"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
03-22-2024, 09:04 AM (This post was last modified: 03-22-2024, 02:09 PM by Volcan.)
Waking from what feels like such a long slumber is quite difficult indeed for the young smoky-coated mare.
Once again, she has fallen victim to the passage of time – or, she has been preserved outside of it, just like in her youth. The world she looks out upon as she emerges from deep within the forest is different. The air feels thinner, no longer perfumed by the heavy smoke of volcanoes, far less salty than before.
The realization that she has once again been folded away somewhere safe during her absence strikes her like a bolt. Her family, were they even still around, would not be likely to remember her now. She's been gone far too long.
Volcan stands at the riverbank, alone. She lowers her head and sighs, grappling to accept her terrible luck*.
Stirred by her breath, a small patch of clover* seems to shift, the shamrock* shoots dancing slightly as something emerges from them. Opening her eyes of green* she watches as the small fairy emerges. The little creature exudes a lovely, soft light of gold* as it peers up at her.
For a brief moment they stare at one another. Volcan wonders if this were a new fixture of Beqanna as well, some common sight that she'd missed out on. She shifts a little closer, her coat glittering with a faint touch of reddish-gold thanks to the sands she still telekinetically carries buried in her fur (the last distant reminder of her home in the Deserts).
The fairy makes an odd little chirp before it flits closer to her, hesitantly touching her muzzle before it flits away with a strange sort of laughter. It leaves a trail of rainbow*-colored sparkles in its wake – quite a sight to behold. It bounds along the edges of the river before the mare loses sight of it, head now raised and tilted in meager curiosity.
What an unexpectedly brilliant little encounter. She muses upon it for a moment more before, with a soft shake of her mane, she returns to grazing on the riverbank.
03-22-2024, 01:31 PM (This post was last modified: 03-23-2024, 09:40 AM by Deiti.)
I had heard the patter of the mare's casual meandering coming to stop at the riverbank. Keeping myself concealed I watched, my slitted eyes beholding the sight of the sparkling light rising from the bed of greens. The interaction between in the pair is fleeting. Only now when it is gone do I speak, "that was quite odd," the words slip from the shadows I found myself resting in after having slunk from the river.
I find myself stepping out from the darkness. The iridescent colors of my scales reflect brilliantly in the sunlight, creating their own rainbow of colors. My delicate feminine face turns, from the direction in which the fae had disappeared, to the mare. "Hello," the greeting spoken is kind and genuine. There is a familiarity in the mare's color that tickles the edges of a memory with the siren. My head tilts in thought, "You look familiar..." The words are curious in nature as my mind tries to place just why. Was it the scattered ticks of white hairs across her body? Maybe the rusty golden sheen that refracted the glow of the sun's rays? It gnaws at the deepest parts of my memories, leaving me with a feeling in the pit of my stomach. Surely, I would remember such a beautiful creature if we had indeed crossed paths before...
Having not come to the conclusion, yet, I give my elegant head a shake. Long ebony tresses shift gently on my sleek neck that gleams in the day light. I blink my sapphire blue eyes before introducing myself, "My name is Deiti." I give pause if the mare should happen to want to give her own name. "Beautiful day isn't it," my gaze casts to the skies above. It was a different kind of beautiful. Unlike the vibrant colors of my sea home, or my tropical oasis that has been lost to the magics of their world, there is a simplicity in this world's beauty. My gaze returns to the roan, something in her aura draws me nearer, beckoning the creature within me to awaken with a temptress' grin. I take one step, testing the waters between us. Should I be well received I'd take another step, and yet another until I was in reaching distance.
Volcan is not so lost in her self-pity that she misses the gentle voice from the darkness behind her.
She’d been young when the Deserts were raided, but the event had left her wary enough to seek out training in the ways of battle. This included being well-attuned to one’s surroundings and even in the relative peace of the day, she practices such habits. One ear had already been turned outward to capture any signs of movement behind her, and the words carry easily over the quiet babble of the river’s flow.
She lifts her head sharply, silvery locks fluttering a bit from the quick motion, and searches for the source. A black mare steps forward, though when the sunlight lands upon her coat she shimmers. It is beautiful enough that Volcan does not feel quite spooked as she might have been by some less attractive being. When her green eyes settle upon the other’s face, she is further soothed from the prior startle – the mare’s delicate features match the beauty of her coat.
Volcan tilts her head, fascination piqued by the appearance of this lovely creature. Her voice is equally appealing when she speaks more certainly, extending a greeting which Volcan smiles in response to.
“Hello,” she replies in kind, dipping her nose in a small nod. But the next words take her a little by surprise again and she tilts her head. Her, familiar? Has she ever met this mare before?
“You must be mistaken,” she brushes off the observation. “I think I would remember if we’d met.” Something of an ironic statement, though – hadn’t her memories once been manufactured, mere fancies of a dream world? She shakes the notion from her thoughts with a slight toss of her mane. The sand held within it glints once more in the clear sunlight of spring.
She files away the other’s name with another minute nod of her angular head. “Volcan.” Her own name seems too heavy in comparison, coarse like pumice on raw skin. Luckily, Deiti draws her attention away and onto the state of the day. Small talk… one of her downfalls. Much as she had tried in the past, the skill of conversation often eludes her.
“It is,” she agrees, looking back toward the river and the blooming trees. “I am glad for the warmth.” There is veritable truth in this claim; spring and summer could at least give her the illusion, if she were to close her eyes, that she is back home again. That perhaps when she looks up again, her father will be there standing tall and gallant with a smile and loving embrace. Alas, such daydreams are not afforded her at the moment.
But the distraction has been enough that she doesn't notice, at first, that Deiti is stepping closer until the other mare is at her side. She blinks her green eyes in mild surprise and smiles again. “What about you? I can't imagine the cold is very pleasant when you have scales.” A rather blunt observation, but then, she has never been a girl of much finesse before.
The golden mare echoes my greeting and comfirms that we have not met. I assumed as much, but still familiarity tugs at me.
There was a likeness even in the pairs obvious difference in body types. Each equally beautiful in their own right. I take note now of the others thickness. The creature within me begs for a taste but I harness it, for now.
Volcan. Dipping my own head in greeting, I put the name and face to memory.
I use the calculated distraction to slide up closer to the mare. My slender frame moves fluidity as if I was in the waters again. I notice now the brilliant green of her eyes; they reminded me of the greens of my ocean home. My ear twist as she speaks of my scales, to which I grin. "They aren't all that bad, but I make a point to not live anywhere too cold," my neck arches as my body turns so that our shoulders align, "you want to feel?" I ask in a flirtatious tone whilst presenting myself to be touched. She would feel that they were actually quite hot, as the obsidian coloring absorbs the sun's rays more effectively.
One might wonder over the myriad of coincidences that occur in Beqanna on a regular basis.
Had it been a coincidence that Volcan found her way to the coarse embrace of the Deserts, her true and rightful home? Or had that been a natural twist of fate?
Had it been a coincidence that she had unknowingly sought a home in the same kingdom where her blood relatives lived, some years ago? Or was that choice pre-destined for her?
What of now? Is it a mere coincidence that she stands beside her unknown-brother’s would-be killer?
In this instance, perhaps the situation is purely circumstantial. Regardless, Volcan remains oblivious to the vague connection in the other mare’s mind between herself and Leilan – she has never met any of her siblings, so puzzling out Deiti’s recognition of her is of no consequence to her.
Instead they exchange brief pleasantries and stand together in the sunlight, as yet unaware of their feeble connection. Volcan wonders after the comfort of Deiti’s scales, whether they kept her warm at all, and the other mare offers her shoulder for inspection. At first, the smoky-coated girl is hesitant, looking at the alluring mare with curiosity flickering in her green eyes. But she accepts the invitation silently, reaching to gingerly pass her lips against the scaly hide presented to her.
It is a somewhat familiar sensation, stirring up memories of the grand black stallion that had raised her. He, too, had always been warmed by the desert sun upon his dark back. A small puff of hot breath leaves her nose as she lingers for a moment before pulling away again. Her smile is almost coy, somewhat shy.
“My father had scales, too,” she muses quietly, nearly wistful. “Not as many, just on his wings… and a little different.” They had been dragon scales, harsher and more individual, pointed and fierce. “Yours are certainly more beautiful.” Something twinges in her heart, for it felt almost like a slight to Vanquish, but she had always thought of him as more majestic, magnificent – not quite beautiful, but stately and dignified. Oh, how she misses him.
But she mustn’t stray too deep into memory; this wasn’t the time for reminiscing. She tilts her head a little, the sun catching again on the golden sands held within the curve of her sharp cheek. “Do you come to this river often?” she asks next, dropping her eyes back to the water swirling by the bank at their feet. “I prefer a dryer climate, myself, but I suppose it’s nice here…”
Such a contrasting pair they are, the siren and the smoke-girl.
In my many years I have struck up little connection to the others that call Beqanna home. I found safety in my solitary life. Not for me, but for those I came in contact with. Only other creatures of the darkness had ever sated the creature within. Their likeness detering it from surfacing.
Within the presence of more vulnerable forms it rattles harder within the cage in my chest. Wishing to roam free and wreak havoc, the ironed bars begin to weaken as it threatens to escape. It is at this point I begin to lose control…
—
At the sensation of her soft lips on my sleek scales the creature rattles once more. I can feel the heat course through me and I'm reminded of my past transgressions. Of Leilan floating lifeless within my tropical pool from my loss of control. The memory causes my delicate face to rise, the sound of her voice bringing me back once more.
Holding onto control -if only by a strand- I smile as she compliments me. The remnants of the desert she clung to shimmer in the glow of the daylight. My own lips begin to stretch towards her flesh, but are stilled by her question. “I suppose it is more of a guide than a preference,” my gaze casts to the crystalline waters that weaved through the lands. “I have followed the waters from the far north sea in search of a suitable home,” I pause briefly as I think to my next course, “I haven't yet explored the southern lands, but I would not describe the northern kingdoms as dry.” Pangea would be the only land to the north fitting of the description but something as beautiful as Volcan had no business in the land of death and despair…
Drawing myself away from temptation, I side step with a razor toothed grin. “I suppose I should continue my search,” my reptilian eyes look to the dark masked mare as I cross alongside her and curl around her hindquarters before stepping towards the waters.
Slowly I sink into the cool aqua, my aquatic form shifting away my hindquarters. My head rises above the surface to call out to the mare, “Wanna come for a swim? The waters nice…” Beads of water race down the ridges of my scales before returning to the flowing waters.
Deiti
