"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
She gasped in surprise, seeing that he popped out of nowhere even though she was well observing for quite a long time.
She seemed to have caught his sound and turned to look more at him, looking left and right of him as if to find out what kind of stallion this was. Perhaps he was a hybrid like her or more.
That classic champagne of color was unusual and rare for her. Who was this stallion, exactly?
She wouldn't be social either, but noticing how he was there, she might start somewhere.
"Y-Yeah... just... observing, I suppose. What brings a stallion such as yourself around these parts?"
What more can she say? Should she have spoken more? What was her main goal now? Is she just speaking out of pure curiosity or out of pure boredom? Quite silly to debate between the two.
He was odd and quite rare in her eyes. What would she miss out on if she didn't take the chance to speak out to someone who spotted her? Who would even notice a red roan mare in these parts?
@Cassi @rapt Sorry, I misclicked on my phone and closed the other thread, and now I don't know how to open it back up.
03-28-2023, 03:22 PM (This post was last modified: 03-28-2023, 03:22 PM by rapt.)
rapt
rapt.
I need you to be a monster which is to say, I am trying not to love you
He is easy not to notice, in a world full of so many fantastical beings – every color of the rainbow, with elements swirling about their bodies, and here he is, a pale gold, and handsome enough, but none of the pomp and circumstance that fills Beqanna. He doesn’t mind this, does not crave attention, does not crave power – what he has is enough.
She asks her question, and he considers.
“The latest shift,” he says, “it has me all turned around. I’ve lived here all my life, yet I’ve found myself lost.”
He laughs at himself, the sound low and soft.
“Are you from Beqanna?” he asks, wondering what she thinks of the changes, or if they’ve bothered her at all.
“My name’s Rapt, by the way,” he adds, realizing he has not yet introduced himself.
which is to say, I am still dreaming of kissing your claws
@Leilin ha no worries about the thread! if it happens again you can post in Discord and someone can unlock it for you
03-28-2023, 09:00 PM (This post was last modified: 03-30-2023, 07:49 PM by Leilin.)
She would just be considered a horse among other horses, being no real special one. She moves along closer to take a look at him. Indeed, he was handsome and one that she had never seen before, actually.
"Handsome."
She spoke her mind before she realized it and coughed. Blushing at the stupid (or not stupid) comment she just said.
"I mean, my name is Leilin. I guess you can say that I am from Beqanna. I don't really know where I am from, but just know that I wander and go around."
She takes another step to take a look at him, letting her sea-blue eyes look more at him. Quite an odd match for a red roan with blue eyes.
"I've never seen one like you before. Are there more handsom- I mean! Are there more like you around?"
She wanted to just smack herself now for talking her mind so repeatedly this time around. What was she thinking? It was obvious on her face that she had hoped he didn't hear those two words.
04-02-2023, 07:27 PM (This post was last modified: 04-02-2023, 07:27 PM by rapt.)
rapt
rapt.
I need you to be a monster which is to say, I am trying not to love you
He smiles a little at her words. She’s kind – too kind, maybe – but he could use a little kindness. It’s nice, to be like this, with a kind red roan mare and idle conversation, and he tries not to let himself think of anything else.
“Nice to meet you, Leilin,” he says. And it is. He’s spent so much time chasing monsters, and she is no monster, and never mind how he still dreams of beasts and kneeling before them.
His smile turns to a laugh as she keeps speaking, making him out to be something unique. He’s a bit different, sure, with the glow about his mane and tail, but his color is common enough and he lacks the extravagance of so many of the horses here.
“There are many,” he says, “and many far more unique and colorful than me. I’ve seen horses in every color imaginable, and many with the features of other animals.” Like beasts, he thinks, like monsters.
“I’m rather plain, by Beqanna standards.”
He shrugs. He is not bothered by this – Rapt rarely plays unwinnable games.
“What’s the best place that you’ve found, in your wanderings?” he asks, for he, too, is a wanderer, and he is lost, and he wants to know what places she might have found.
which is to say, I am still dreaming of kissing your claws
She tries to keep herself from bursting out too many of her honest thoughts. Was it bad to be so open? Being left with so many things and distracted by him was a complete surprise for her. She tries not to seem so open and blue, with her red roan fur, then it might be hard to notice.
His laughter made her wide-eyed to hear what he was like when he laughed, and she couldn't help but blush again.
"You are not plain in the least!"
She realizes what she said again, almost as if she wished she could smack herself. Shaking her head, she then tries to answer his next question.
"The best place that I have found... hmmm... perhaps it would Dale! It is a whole new place! Much more different, and I haven't thought to stay long there just in case something were to come at me! The first time I was there, the whole place was strange! The growth there is nice, but it feels odd. Have you been there?"
She says it, almost as if she was quite wary of the place too.
I need you to be a monster which is to say, I am trying not to love you
He laughs again. It feels good, like this, out in the sun with her friendliness. He is so used to dark things, to shadows and twisted beasts – this is different.
“Well thank you,” he says, and dips his head. He doesn’t wear compliments well – especially ones so egregious – but there is a part of him that warms to it.
She answers his question then, speaks of the Dale. He’s heard the stories, of the lands rising again. This doesn’t matter much to him, having never been a kingdom man, but it’s interesting. His blood is full of kings and queens of old, but it’s from centuries ago, and he’s felt no call to serve such lands.
“I haven’t been,” he says, “I’ve never been much for kingdoms, new or old.”
He realizes then that she may be a kingdom mare, and speaks again.
“Not that I have anything against such a life, I’m just better off as a nomad.”
which is to say, I am still dreaming of kissing your claws
She jumps again and sees him... laughing. Was she that amusing and fun for him? She takes another step towards him and sees him dip his head. She lets her red roan blanket be shined on by the sunlight there. In the reflection from the river, it was a darker look.
"Kingdoms?"
She somewhat tilts her head, looking at him... confused. She knows no formalities nor knowledge of such a thing. She is as free as she roams.
"Umm... would you be upset if I am not from a kingdom? That... I am pretty plain myself and... informal. I don't know much about kingdoms, but I don't think I would ever suit such a life since I've been carefree through it all. I think many others would see me as some sort of freelance mare."
She gave a little giggle, but she looks down, worried that perhaps he didn't like those not from this so-called 'kingdom.' Was she an oddball? An odd wanderer.
I need you to be a monster which is to say, I am trying not to love you
“Not at all!” he exclaims, realizing – too late – that she is not like him, a child of many Beqanna generations. Though he is not a kingdom man, he knows the lore of it, it is imbued in his blood and bones. He is the grandson of Beqanna’s old kings, and more of them litter his bloodline.
“Beqanna has several,” he says, “the Dale included. I know them in passing – I was told my grandfather was a king of the Deserts, though the Deserts no longer exists.”
Caius had told him the story, bitter – his father’s conception had been for revenge and little else, a convoluted tale he does not want to impart upon her.
“Beqanna’s lands are often changing,” he adds, “or, it seems that way to me. I leave for a while, and when I return, it seems like something else dramatic has happened.”
The plague that had struck them, the darkness – he skated by most of it, largely unaffected.
“How long have you been in Beqanna?” he asks, wondering if she is used to the changes, or if they impact her at all.
which is to say, I am still dreaming of kissing your claws
Surprised that he wasn’t going to be upset that she wasn’t from such a big lineage, she was quite happy and relieved that he wouldn’t just leave and run off because she wasn’t such a bloodline.
“Yeah, Beqanna is always changing. I am surprised that we aren’t effected by the changes when it happens. Do you happen to know how it goes or how it does?”
She goes back around and over to him, flickering her ears with her tail that away by the little wind.
“I’ve been around for quite a while. The changes tend to make me worried at times since I always wonder if I will be okay or safe. I just don’t know how the land keeps changing. It somewhat makes it a little scary to wonder what else goes on out there.”
