"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The alabaster mare makes the trek without too much trouble - it is through the air that she travels, the beeline she makes being for Pangea this time. As a nomad, and a diplomat at heart, she decides it would be decent if they’d allow her in; and in is all she needs right now.
She lands at the border nearest to Hyaline; she smiles, remembering her time there and in the Cove - it fades as quickly as it appeared, together with her sunlight-made wings. Pangea is different now - or, perhaps not really; but it is more prominent and powerful in the same ambition it always had. Thanks to the lion-shifter, only the Cove bore some semblance to the sanctuary that once occupied and even that, barely. He’d been successful.
She shakes her crest, ignoring whatever feelings she might have had. She’s not here for any land any more.
And so at the border, the most unlikely visitor in the world calls out as if it’s just another day, as if she’s just a friendly neighbour visiting another friendly neighbour.
And who’s to say that that isn’t what she’s doing?
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Alcinder]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Despite the turn of the season and the bright golden sunlight that washes over Pangea's sandstone canyons for the majority of the day, there is something about the territory that Alcinder still associates with cold darkness. He avoids the claw-footed stallion and glowing angel-dragon as much as possible ─ they (he tries not to think of them by name when he can help it) leave a sickly, astringent feeling in the pit of his stomach, and even though he has been treated quite well since arriving in the canyon territory, the memory of the stallion injuring the black-and-gold colt on their first night away from Loess still echoes in his head.
Quite adventurous for his age, the tobiano pegasi has slipped away from the heart of Pangea for the day and moved towards the outskirts; he thinks of heading towards the border, running until his too-long legs or too-large wings give out, but he's still unsure which direction his Mama's home is in, and the thought of getting lost or finding another creature like the horn-eyed stallion makes him nervous. So he sticks to the periphery of the canyon, sandstone on one side and distant mountains on the other, until his bright silver eyes alight on a glowing ivory figure in the distance.
Alcinder's heart drops for a moment, worried that he has happened upon the angel-dragon too far from the center of the canyon, but as the woman grows closer he realizes that she is not the wife of the claw-footed man. Smiling hesitantly, nervously, at the woman, Alcinder approaches with quiet steps. His nostrils flare at the unfamiliar scents that cling to her ─ she has ventured the whole of Beqanna, if his nose does not deceive him, and suddenly he wonders, with his small blue-and-white head cocked to the side:
"Are you... are you Ilma?" he asks, voice quiet and unsure, as he gazes upon the winged woman.
@[Ilma] "SPEECH"
neamrel
i have slipped the surly bonds of earth
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings
Most of their time, when not spent hunting, is on the borders of Pangea. Both of them are out today. Although there is no true sense of family between them, there is a sense of familiarity. They have hunted and lived side-by-side for decades. The smaller one does feel a sense of loyalty to its mother, who is the queen of their hive, and it is easy for the larger to play favourites when so few of its children have turned out to be perfect monsters.
It is easy to spot the intruder when she has wings of sunshine, and when she calls out. Another has arrived - his scent is known to the monsters (though newly so) and so they do not pay him any mind. In fact, they come up behind him. There is a few metres between them and the boy but they flank him. Their presence, often, is enough.
Their master had made it clear that no one in Pangea was to be harmed (not even chewed on occasionally) and there is a unique sense of loyalty to all who call this place home.
Oh, they would eat him if they could - tear his blue wings from his shoulders and devour them whole - but they cannot.
So their soulless black eyes are trained on the stranger, the intruder, and though there is nothing indicating they are about to attack there is a small hiss that emits from the larger of the pair. A question, a demand, a warning. Whatever this odd creature was here to do - it was best that she not cross the border nor give them a reason to do so themselves.
i've got a face of gold, i've got a heart of coal, but baby that's my cross to bear
Pangea is dust covered and blazing when Draco finds the excitement he has been thirsting. The two-on-one fight in Loess left him feeling angry and chastened, discomfort blooming like poisonous flowers in his chest. He’d eat those flowers if he could, chew them up and swallow them and let them make him suffer until he is stronger.
Summer is hot, the sun beating down on the portions of Pangea that are not shaded by canyons. Draco peers at various tumbleweed and hardy-looking birds, briefly wondering if he could catch the avians’ eyes, would they fly away in fear? Biting down on that curiosity, the demon walks quietly toward the birds settled nervously in the trees. He suspects they will fly away before he can find their gazes. They do just that, loudly taking to the skies as Draco irritably huffs. No matter, he thinks matter-of-factly, they wouldn’t have been very fun, anyway.
Draco is on the border of Hyaline and Pangea, subconsciously drawn to where he thinks his father might be hiding—that, and he is making the small effort to move up in the kingdom. He cannot help but to like Anaxarete and her vision, so much more evil than his father, leaving satisfaction vicious and welcome in his heart.
That is why when Draco hears the loud, peaceful thoughts of a stranger, he turns to stare attentively where he senses they are coming from. He steps into a trot, spurred on by the vague thought of a successful lion-shifter. Suspicion builds in his chest. Hope flutters there, too, a quiet and delicate thing. A stranger that is probably thinking of his father? Perhaps this could be an answer to his searching.
Smothered hope is what sends Draco into absolute fury when he sees the source of the thoughts. A woman his father has spoken of absently but never kindly—a woman his father would not let return. So entrenched in Ilma’s thoughts, Draco does not hear the instinctual ones of Ana’s aliens, though he does spot them as they arrive shortly before him.
A smile, maybe a charming one, lifts the demon’s lips. He drops his pace to a leisurely walk, settling next to the aliens but not so close that they might be irritated. Draco is comfortable next to them, for the most part, knowing that his queen has forbade them from harming Pangea residents and knowing that their main mission now is to guard the borders. What he doesn’t know, though, is if they can understand his language. He suspects they can—maybe—and he wants to tell them that they shouldn’t let this one in. He wants to make sure she is unwelcome and a trespasser, and that she shouldn’t even be standing within Hyaline.
No enemy of his father will find Draco good company.
“We shouldn’t let this one in,” the demon suggests, lightly enough that he is not ordering them (he fears them, of course—he doesn’t expect them to do his bidding).
“Ilma, right? Interesting to find you within a Pangean territory, and next to a captive no less. Knowing what my father has said of you, and your unfortunate proximity to my brother’s child, I wonder if you’re thinking of stealing from us?” Draco tilts his head, coy smile on his face (oh, how he looks like his mother, now).
“I don’t think our queen wants you here, either. So,” he pauses, turns to peer over Pangea’s canyons, “I would leave Hyaline’s borders, if I were you.”
02-04-2020, 11:11 PM (This post was last modified: 02-04-2020, 11:11 PM by ghaul.)
GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He hovers over Pangea, watching all the little blurs go about their day. They seem so distant and insignificant from way up here. Most importantly, he watches his young ward as he wanders in his attempts to sneak around the kingdom that Ghaul knows so well. Even if he could not track the boy on his own, the aliens would hunt him in a heartbeat. Maybe less. But the colt is heading for the border where someone he does not recognize is waiting patiently. His lip curls up and he considers diving for them.
But Ripley and Nostromo are already on them, looming over Alcinder protectively. Should he still approach, then? Draco’s outline intrigues him enough to tuck his wings to his side so that he plummets down toward them. Their shapes grow clearer and larger until he stretches out his talons and spreads his wings once more to slow his descent until he lands with a light thud. The leathery appendages remain away from his sides as he offers a brief series of clicks from the base of his throat to the aliens. He had learned from Fiorina that they shared a few noises.
Slowly, his wings tuck against his sides and he leisurely strides closer to the guest. Draco explains that this one is not welcomed here and Ghaul’s small ears perk at the words. A faster cluster of clicks emanate excitedly from him and he glances at the hunting pair, shivering at the thought of a kill alongside them. What if they accidentally bit each other in their frenzy? He grins.
“Steal? From us? A grave mistake,” he laughs, the sound like thunder that shakes the earth. “Or just an overgrown child, come to play?”
He circles Ilma, and maybe his horns glimmer a little brighter as he surveys her. His smile is made from crooked fangs as he takes his place beside Alcinder, towering over the boy and his apparent friend.
“Alcinder, our year together has barely begun. How can I be a good father if you won’t be a good son?” he hisses, still grinning as he leans his head down so the boy is eye level with the base of Ghaul’s horns.
@[Ilma] @[Ripley and Nostromo] @[Alcinder] @[draco]
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The mare at the border is first greeted by the one she seeks - of course it is not entirely coincidental that this is where she landed, knowing full well who is where at practically any given time; although she may not know for days ahead where and when she needs to go, she does know in the minutes before it happens, and for the purpose of finding someone, that is enough.
The boy is polite and kind, a feature she fears is not entirely welcomed by his stealer and his friends. Still, she returns with the same warm kindness - the closest thing he will have to his mother for a long time. She doesn’t know if it will be enough, or if it will last any second longer than her smile, but it is all she can do at the moment.
”Yes, Alcinder, my name is Ilma. You have a good memory.” His mother must have told him about her friends, just in case. Or perhaps his father had. This eastern land has not been visited by Oceane personally, since Castile had taken this trip himself and accompanied by another diplomat.
Two guardians appear; they look hostile but don’t move, and as Ilma knows they would attack if she made the wrong move, she moves not at all. A trickle of her own magic reaches out to the winged tobiano colt, to make him feel peaceful and more at ease if he lets it in, but not to anyone else, for the feeling is unknown and unnatural to them, and she is sure they would not react kindly to it. The wind catches her mane and tail as she studies the two flanking the boy, and the moon-coloured mare idly wonders how they think a single round and soft Andalusian mare, a threat. They’d kill her in an instant.
They’re not the only ones who seem upset by the presence of a diplomat on the border. Lie’s son arrives, the demon-kind, followed by the dragon-kind who stole the winged child. The first starts fishing for things that hadn’t even been on her mind to begin with, or maybe it is to test her, but it seems not to matter to them that she simply stands there waiting, that she announced herself like any visitor would, and that she patiently awaits the finalization of the dragon-stallion’s inspection.
She breathes out through her nostrils slowly before she addresses Draco. ”I’m fairly certain that your father can very well defend himself against me or attack me, if he deems it necessary.” She’s also pretty sure he wouldn’t want anyone else to do it for him as it might make him look weak - not to Ilma per say, as she knows better, but it is a matter of pride for the lion. And he already won - she’s already lost everything she once had in this region, and he got to rule everything he wanted. That he left it later was not her doing.
When the draconic stallion mentions a possibility of stealing, she nearly has to bite her inner lip; there are remarks far sharper quickly swallowed - but it was that habit of expressing herself that had somehow escalated her relationship with Litotes, and she does not think it would help her here. ”As a nomad, I could not steal him from you even after the half-year had passed; don’t accuse me of things that will never come to pass. Your… adopted, child is still in your land - in fact he did a pretty good job at guarding the border and asking a visitor like me for her name.” She’s not here to make changes to things that had happened by the rights and rules of the land. But she did feel a bit of a need to defend Alcinder - the boy had done nothing but get to know the lay of the land and greet a diplomat on the border, and any thoughts of her taking him away or him sneaking out are completely unjustified; but then, she knows the looks were deceiving, which is why she took the time to tell him that stealing was no option for her.
Her amber gaze flicks from one male to another, the warmth of it now gone from motherly to fiery, yet still, she does not move from her spot even though her muscles are itching against the upcoming strain. ”I came here as a diplomat with a proposition for your queen. Since I’m not allowed to visit, would someone please ask her if she can make time to speak to me here? Or anywhere else she thinks more appropriate?” Perhaps Ghaul would also be able to make a few decisions, but she expects his answer to be ‘no’ before she could open her mouth. And that, while the proposition itself could be very interesting for him.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Alcinder] your turn next
@[Anaxarete] or yours, idk if you wanted her to join so I’m just gonna tag you once
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
“Why not ask me directly,” she says, stepping deftly from a swirl of shadow she had conjured in the midst of the gathering. The shadows swirl around her – smokelike and unnatural – before they seem to seep into her skin and disappear. To say she was less than amused to be beckoned like this was an understatement. She did not fault the Pangeans for defending the border, but this mare had certainly attracted quite a crowd. She touches the shoulder first of Draco, and then of Ghaul before moving to stand between them. Mentally, she soothes the monsters – who she know wait eagerly at the prospect of chasing down an intruder.
“Well, well – what have we here?” she asks, dryly. Her cool gaze flickers between Draco, Ghaul, the winged child, her beautiful creatures, and the stranger. A strange combination, to be sure. She sincerely hoped this wasn’t some melodramatic rescue attempt.
She turns her cool gaze upon the stranger – this mare who has come to their border with uncertain motives. The mare who claims to be both nomad and diplomat alike, a strange contradiction to be sure. The shadowmare does, however, find it amusing the woman perceives herself to be a threat. She is more likely to be perceived as a meal than a threat in these lands, but Anaxarete does not feel the need to clarify this misconception.
“So tell me, Ilma, are you a nomad…or a diplomat? And what is this proposition that brings you to our borders,” she says, coolly, wanting to both clarify and expedite the situation. She, like Ghaul and Draco alike, has her own suspicions as to why Ilma had come, but she wants to hear it directly from the source.
She wants an explanation for these demands and accusations made at her border.
And she wants them now.
02-10-2020, 04:52 PM (This post was last modified: 02-10-2020, 04:53 PM by Alcinder.)
A L C I N D E R
i go to seek a great perhaps
Alcinder, quite suddenly awash in happiness at this woman who stands before him ─ one tangible link to the mother he desperately misses ─ offers Ilma a wide smile and a polite bow. "Mama told me about you. She said you knew I was going to be a boy, and that I could always tru─"always trust you, he means to say, but her eyes flick to something over his shoulders and Alcinder turns his small head to peer at the space behind him, only to find the terrifying alien pair who, perhaps, give him nightmares more frequently than the horn-eyed stallion.
He thinks of the clicking noise that they emit and a shiver bolts up his spine; he throws his head immediately forward again to gaze at Ilma, hoping that the aliens will stand their ground and not move any closer if he pretends they aren't there. His ears flick at the hiss produced behind him, causing his heart to race and his feathered wings to cling protectively to his sides.
He tries not to picture their odd faces and whetted teeth, but fails.
Another voice behind him makes Alcinder jump; he pivots so that he stands closer to the ivory Ilma, his gangly legs wobbling with nerves, and his silvered eyes fall on the venomous-looking star-speckled stallion as his words flow sour and angry in the direction of his Mama's friend.
Alcinder, fearful of his situation but angry over the red-horned stallion's tone, lays his ears back against the fluff of his navy mane.
Quite suddenly, he feels warmth spread through the center of his chest. It settles inside of him comfortingly and, though he does not know it comes from Ilma and her magic, he sidles appreciatively next to her. He revels in this new comfort, new lack of fear, for as long as he can ─ and then the claw-footed stallion is suddenly diving from the sky, a fallen dragon from Alcinder's night terrors.
His ears return to his head, hiding against the soft curve of his crest, and Alcinder peels his lips back to show small, blunted teeth when the horn-eyed stallion circles he and Ilma, and then lowers his eyeless head to his own level. The adults who have gathered speak of things he does not understand ─ nomads and Hyaline and fathers and brothers ─ but when the claw-footed stallion calls himself Alcinder's father, he nearly yelps in harsh disagreement.
Ilma responds more swiftly than the blue-and-white colt is able to, effectively defending Alcinder's actions and ─ perhaps ─ defusing a situation that could have gone much differently had he voiced his own refusal. But then again they are joined by another; this one swirls into their midst, blanketed by shadows, and judging by the way she commands attention from her monsters and Ilma alike, Alcinder assumes she is the Queen of this land.
And maybe she can help him.
"I'd like to go home now, please," he says to the shadowmare in a voice that sounds much more confident than he has felt since the night the claw-footed stallion herded him away from Loess.
@[Ilma], @[Ripley and Nostromo] @[draco], @[ghaul], @[Anaxarete] ""
neamrel
i have slipped the surly bonds of earth
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings
They don’t understand any of the horse-language being used, but their emotionless eyes move between all those gathered. One catches their attention more than the others - a creature decorated with the scales of the enemy (and at first, a ripple of anger flushes through the pair of monsters). But then that creature speaks to them. There is no translation, not really, but it’s close to a greeting.
And they respond in kind. Their curiosity emits from them as a few clicks of their own.
They pay little to no attention to the mare they are gathered near, except to emit a warning growl when the blue child moves away from them to stand with her. Then they take each take a step forward - heads lowered and silver teeth bared.
Their master arrives and soothes them, and only then do they straighten up a little. Although always a moment away from attack, they return to their state of guardians. The politics and deals that might be about to occur beyond them.
But always they are ready to drag the child back to the proper side of the line at any moment.
02-25-2020, 10:27 PM (This post was last modified: 02-25-2020, 10:27 PM by draco.)
draco
i've got a face of gold, i've got a heart of coal, but baby that's my cross to bear
“My father wouldn’t even think you worth a fight,” Draco slips in quickly after Ilma makes a comment about Litotes. His head tilts slightly to the left and his eyes sparkle with cruel amusement. He finds most creatures to be silly, but this peace-keeping one he finds especially naive. Her thoughts about his father are all wrong, the words pride and won especially bemusing. He let’s her go on with her delusions, though, mentally shrugging his shoulders and subconsciously leaning closer to the aliens.
When Anaxarete appears, Draco watches with her with reverent eyes. The fear aura spilling from his gaze dims when she touches his shoulder and Draco dips his head in greeting. Satisfaction is warm in his belly at the arrival of the group’s Queen. It takes all of his power to not grin wickedly at Alcinder and Ilma. The peace-keeping one is powerless to the strength of a magician. Draco sits smugly in knowing they have already one this one tiny battle.
A quiet laugh slips from between the demon’s lips when Alcinder asks to go home. Draco does not understand children, and he barely understands the desire to have them, so the naivety the blue colt exudes is met with contempt and irritation. Of course you can’t leave, he wants to coo mockingly at the child. I’ll chase you back behind these borders myself. But Draco restrains himself, knowing that Ghaul has some affection for the boy and knowing that Ana can handle whatever the pair desires to throw at him.
So, the demon sits quietly, drifting from one mind to the next.
