"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
04-17-2015, 01:17 AM (This post was last modified: 04-17-2015, 01:29 AM by Reilly.)
Ever have those moments when you feel lighter than air? When you visualize yourself as floating gracefully over the ground as your feet barely touch, but actually you're stumbling and lucky to even be upright? When you find yourself singing and imagine a lovely singing voice, but actually you're slurring and awfully off-key?
Yeah, that about sums it up.
The massive white stallion (with not but a patch of red on top of his head and tangled, flowing white-streaked red mane and tail) would be easily noticed even if he wasn't rather obnoxiously carrying on. He was awkwardly dancing, if one could call it that, tripping every so often on his way to gods-know-where from gods-knew-where. He knew not where he was, nor where he'd come from, only that he feels freaking awesome. His heart is racing and his head spinning, seeing double as he "pranced", but he feels great, like he weighs no more than a feather and pain does not exist. Blue-green eyes have a slight glazed appearance and are fixed on anything and nothing. He cares not if anyone is near, watching him or otherwise ignoring him. He simply blunders onward, red head tossing and singing loudly, unaware of just how loud he was and uncaring all the same. Even through the slurring of his voice, he has a thick Irish brogue, unmistakable.
"Tura'lu, tura'lu, tura'lu a-lu a-lu! TURA'LI, TURA'LI, TURA'LI, LI LI LI LI!" He is basically shouting than actually singing the Irish tune, but whatever. He's drunk, and completely happy with it.
[YEP! Enjoy! XD
PS: this is the song he's singing click ]
It is an uncommonly lovely evening, the sun setting in such a way that the sky is dyed in wondrous hues of ochre and coral, lavender and plum, gold and white. A soft breeze billows about them with a hint of nip in the air, telling of the coming fall, but still warm enough to be comfortable. All of this the pewter stallion admires as he sedately walks the worn path to the meadow. He has been in the meadow oft of late. What else is a young stallion left at loose ends to do? Well, for Shahrizai the obvious answer is pester every horse he can find with an inordinate amount of questions.
And so, here he is, looking for his next victim. Apparently not well enough however, as his next victim manages to stumble right into him. Quite literally. Jumping away, the blue colt flicks rounded ears forward, curiosity suffusing his features as he eyes the clumsy, poorly tuned stallion. His first thought is that the poor bugger is rather odd. Although, when it comes to odd, Shahrizai rather has that term cornered at the moment. His blocky head, rather than being topped with equine ears as one might expect, is instead graced with fuzzy rounded cat ears. If that was not odd enough, however, one might be even more shocked to realize that upon his rump sat a long, sinuous cat tail, rather than the classic banner like tail one might expect (granted, under normal circumstances, he would have had no tail, so it’s a step in the right direction at least). All of this is courtesy of a rather capricious fairy that had confused and astounded the poor boy when she had simply appeared out of nowhere, bequeathed him with the ears and a tail, and vanished, never to explain the reasons behind her actions. At this point, the only option he is left with is to make the best of it that he can.
Quite frankly, the odd turn of events he had recently experienced is the last thing on his mind at this moment. No, at this moment the entirety of his rather formidable force of curiosity is turned onto the pale stallion before him. A snort escapes his nostrils as he cocks his large head, chocolate brown gaze fixed on the singing man.
What’s that you’re singing? It doesn't sound familiar.
A sudden frown turns down his dark lips as he realizes that perhaps the stallion is not doing this intentionally.
04-17-2015, 06:42 PM (This post was last modified: 04-17-2015, 06:45 PM by Reilly.)
Lovely evening it is, indeed! Perfect for getting rather hammered as he currently is. In fact, the slightly chilly breezes encourage the man, for each little "shot" he takes sends this utterly delightful tingly warmth all through his body. Mmm, wonderful. The only thing that ever makes this feeling better is when shared with others, however Reilly never seeks out anyone on purpose anymore. They come to him, or not at all, and even when he's sober, this is the way he likes it. He doesn't need any killjoys ruining his buzz, afterall. It was unfathomable to him, truly, how so many had looked down on him for his antics like he was just some bouzzie. But who cares? More for him!
"Just a man nothing more, nothing less but nonetheless! Lives his life with every drop he- OOF!"
The impact catches him completely by surprise- imagine that! And causes him to stagger to the side. He makes some silly exclamations as his legs get tangled a bit and he nearly loses all balance. Even so, he remains upright with legs a bit splayed, and once he's sure he's standing still (unaware he wavers and sways now and again), bursts out laughing. Ah leave it to him to go crashing into trees! Whoops. He shakes his head and neck vigorously, ginger hair flying in all directions and mumbles something unintelligible under his breath as he begins to turn and walk off again. Like nothing had happened, he resumes his boisterous singing. "Tura'lu, tura'lu, tura'lu a-lu a-lu..." And dramatically swings his rather large arse around as what he thought was the tree begins to speak! "Wha' tha bluidy hell..?" He sways and blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to focus in on the object (objects?). It was a tad difficult when everything was swirling and doubled.
"Oy! Stand still, would ye'?" His words are gruff and thick with his brogue, but there is a goofiness about him that holds no true aggravation. Shaking his blocky head once more, he realizes perhaps he's had a bit too much of the black stuff,as he calls it, and takes a few sobering breaths. With his ability to become intoxicated, he also contains the ability to lessen the effects at will (though he rarely actually does). Now, with his vision a bit more stationary, he takes another look at the speaker. Oh! But it's just a young lad! Well why didn't he just say so?! Grinning widely at his question, Reilly tosses his pinkish muzzle in the air at the younger male (the equine equivalent to waving a hand in dismissal). "O! Don't worry 'bout me, boyo! Just a bit fluthered. And rightly so, if ye ask me!" He closes the last bit with a chortle and a wink. Of course, somewhere in all the commotion, the boy's previous question was lost on him. So standing there, he sways once more, a bit more subtle than before, and lifts his upper lip to show his teeth, eyes glinting suggestively. "Don't s'pose ye'd like a taste, eh boyo?" Because of course, he'd be willing to share.
In wide eyed fascination, the pewter stallion stares at the blundering fellow. For a moment, he is sure that the white and red stallion had not seen him as he exclaims blearily and continues on with his song and stumbling meander. That is until he swings around and blinks at him in surprise. Shahrizai cannot contain the laugh that spills from his lips at the stallion’s befuddled expression. When he asks him to stand still, he laughs harder.
I promise, I haven’t moved.
Having gotten his laughter under control, he cocks his dark head slightly, curious gaze fixed upon the drunken stallion. He finds the man’s accent and odd phrases passingly strange, and struggles to place him, only to find that he cannot. His curiosity peaked, he steps forward and sniffs experimentally at the pale bloke (nevermind how odd he himself must look, smelling a stranger). At the stallion’s next question however, he jerks his head back, blinking in surprise. Glancing around with a quizzical expression on his features, he is even more confused to find nothing around which he has not already tasted at least once before (now that is a whole different story).
Taste of what?
And because he is far too curious for his own good, he does not even wait for the stallion’s response before giving his assent. After all, what is life if you don’t live a little? Anyways, anything that can make the stocky stallion before him feel that good must be worth trying at least once, right?
The bloody tree was laughing at him. No, with him, he decides. It says something ridiculous like it hasn't moved. Well, (he snorts and shakes his head, white and red hair flying) he certainly would beg to differ! He laughs, though, and realizes he was too far gone, and then reels his awareness back enough he can more clearly assess the situation. It is then he sees the blue roan boy, not tree, and is grinning widely as the other steps closer to sniff at him. His breath tickles the man's heightened senses, his skin a bit more sensitive than when sober. His reaction comes half-reflexive and all playful as he chuckles and aims a nip at the boy's neck, just behind the side of his dark head. The action, if he made contact, was not intended to cause pain, but likely just a playful graze of skin and fur. "Wha' ye do tha' for, fella?" And his tone is even less serious. He decides he likes this young man, which is why he offers to share his unique blend of goodness.
He chortles once again at the way the boy looks around in confusion. "Nah, this isn't somethin' ye'll find just anywhere." He grins crookedly, blue-green eyes glinting almost mischievously. And then comes a nod and a smile as he agrees to give it a try. It takes only a moment of concentration as he focuses on the boy, which he's just noticed has the strangest ears and tail and wonders just how drunk he's made himself or if he's actually seeing correctly. Reilly takes a deep breath and releases it, and with it, sends just a shot of his essence unto the boy. Just a taste, as promised. And in the same breath, takes another himself. Ah yes, the delightful sting at the back of his throat followed by the spread of warmth all the way through him. The slow burn that was simply delectable and addicting. He briefly recalls his first "sip" and wonders if the boy feels anything remotely similar. In his momentary bliss, Reilly had closed his eyes but opens them now (his pupils dilated lightly, the irises bright) and studies the blue boy. He gleams a bit, watching his reaction, before asking, "Want another?" Although this time, he doesn't wait for the boy's answer, already sending another wave of the good ol' black stuff. "Bluidy good, ain't it? Name's Reilly, by the way. Most call me the Irishman." Might as well introduce himself, though his new acquaintance may not remember after the night is through.
All that I need is for you to be bleeding, From my homicidal kiss
The sounds of rather..strange...laughter drew the nightmare deeper into the meadow, her curiosity piqued by something out of the ordinary. It was true that laughter wasn't something she normally bothered with but the sounds of this laughter were distinctly male, and the deep bass tones of it made her wonder about the one producing the sound. Slowly and carefully she picked her way through the dead leaves of autumn, keeping to the shadows so that she might remain partially hidden. A wry smile quirked her dark lips as she moved, this promised to be a rather interesting situation if the laughter were any indication. She certainly needed something to shake up her rather droll existence, she hadn't had any fun at all in quite some time.
The noise seemed to be coming from a pair of males, one large and robust looking and the other who carried the scent of the Valley with him. She'd seen the smaller male briefly as she had wandered her new home, though she doubted if he'd seen her. The shadows loved to hide her and do her bidding in that way. Stopping just outside their field of merriment, she pauses, tilting her head slightly as she watches them. What WERE they doing? Maybe they'd gotten hold of some kind of psychotropic plant, she'd seen that happen before. But her question was answered almost before it was formed in her mind, a faint tingle of magic brushed through the air as the red and white stallion looked at the other one intently. Well now, THIS could get interesting. Barely stifling a laugh herself as she spoke, her mangled ear pricked forward and trained upon the duo.
The Irishman? That explains the accent, but what are you doing? I see that both of you are having a good time, but can't see a reason for it. I am Alptraum, the nightmare, currently residing in the Valley.
She falls silent after that, her dark eyes trained upon the ghostly stallion with his blood tinged locks. In some ways he reminded her of Morgenstern, the only man who had ever laid claim to her tiny black heart. And in others he was refreshingly different, though the large frame still spoke of the ability to create much violence. Gaze drifted to the smaller male, trying to place if she had ever heard a name for him, though she knew she recognized his scent from her home. Perhaps he'd introduce himself now, since they were both enjoying the antics of the rowdy Irishman.
Alptraum Mare 10 years Black (Ee/aa) Percheron x Friesian 18 hands No Consort, The Valley, No Hellspawn Sael
You see, I'm not like those other girls, baby I'm your bloody creature poster girl
He’s still trying to decide what is wrong with the poor white and red stallion when he aims a nip at his neck. The other fellow’s aim is a bit wobbly however, and he manages to snag a mouthful of his mane instead. Shaking his large blocky head, Shahrizai chuckles at the inebriated man as he gives him a look that is a perfect cross between amusement and disbelief. When he works his magic however, the blue stallion’s odd expression slips from his features, to be replaced by amazement. Warmth sears his throat and crawls through his veins as his brain struggles to comprehend what is happening to him. He can feel the wobbly rush of intoxication spreading through him, and he pauses to appreciate the effect on his body, slight though it is. At least, it was slight until the second shot begins to seep through him, increasing the amazing effect.
Bluidy good is right, my friend. I won’t say no to another, that’s for sure.
This is how he is to be found when the black mare approaches. When she speaks, he whips his dark gaze to her. Or rather, he tries to. He is momentarily baffled when she wobbles slightly before realization dawns. So this is why the white Irishman had been so clumsy. If he had been imbibing the stuff well before Shahrizai had come along, it’s a wonder he could stand at all. He jerks his attention back to the mare as she begins to speak, using all of his considerable powers of concentration to focus on what she is saying. A frown pulls on his dark lips as he narrows his eyes in an attempt to keep her from wavering.
Really? Nightmare? Why’s that?
When the words the Valley actually penetrate his brain, his expression brightens, a grin splitting his lips.
So you must know Librette! She’s good. She’s, uh, awesome. We’re friends. Good… good friends. Oh! And I’m Shahrigazi. Um, Shazrizi… y’know what, just call me Shah.
05-05-2015, 12:47 AM (This post was last modified: 05-05-2015, 10:18 AM by Reilly.)
He gives a light-hearted chuckle as the boy answers his question, watching the subtle changes in his expression. "Tha's a good lad." He slurs. He is just about to give him some more, when another joins them. Similarly to the blue roan, Reilly slides his aqua gaze over to the shadowy figure, having to blink a couple times to focus in. And oh, what a sight she is to behold! Lush curves, glossy black coat, dark eyes and her tresses long and wavy. Taking in her bittersweet scent, he surmises she would be just as attractive if he weren't pleasantly gee-eyed. She comes to stand before them and speaks, but he barely listens, only catching bits and pieces as he lifts his head and arches his thick neck (more able to view her now that she is closer and standing still). Ah, so she's curious. He likes that. "Alptraum." He tastes her name with a half-lidded smile, letting it roll right off his tongue as smooth as his magical brand of awesomesauce (yeah, I went there).
His friend comments on her self-claimed nickname and he finds himself equally curious, though he is allowed time to mull it over while he- whom he can now call Shah- speaks again. Another laugh bubbles up from deep in the red-headed stallion's chest as the boy slurs and stumbles over his name, unable to contain himself. Fun, isn't it? Ah yes, and he wanted some more, he remembers now. Sending another dose to the pewter stallion, Reilly smirks and then returns his attention to the mare. Rolling his brawny shoulders, he steps closer to her, his aqua gaze poring into her deep brown eyes from under half-mast lids.
"What I think.." He begins, tones rich and deep, but not slurring as much this time. "..is tha' ye're no bad dream. I can only imagine ye mean the way ye look as if ye were made of night." And such a lovely night mare she was, mangled ear and scars alike. The wonderful thing about intoxication, is even though the Irishman knows he's not lacking in the looks department, it tends to lend more confidence. And with that, comes saying things one may or may not say under normal circumstances. Same goes for actions. He steps closer to the muscular femme, certain that she would allow him into her bubble, and stops when he is but a mere breath away. Neverminding the boy behind him, Reilly smiles at the black mare and whispers, "The night should always know a good time." And he reaches his velvety pink muzzle to press it just behind her gnarled ear, gently running it down to the crevice between her neck and shoulder. At the same time he exhales long and slow against her flesh, he sends his power into her. This is no small dose as he'd been giving Shah, but he sent it easily so as not to shock her system but rather aiming to melt. He wants to catch her up on their fun, but wants it to be a pleasant experience over all. No doubt, after it sank in she would be just as done in as he and the blue roan, but it would be a warm and sweet transition. Pulling back from her, he lazily smiles once again, voice a bit husky as he speaks. "A good time is not always seen, but felt. Wouldn't ya agree?" He gazes at her a moment longer, before moving back to stand near Shah ( but still facing them both), giving the boy a grin before he shoves his shoulder with his own, the gesture sorta like a manly clap on the shoulder shared between two ol' chums.
(Ooc: Sorry for the crapness, is late and I tired :c
oh and Reilly is Uber flirt xD)
All that I need is for you to be bleeding, From my homicidal kiss
Curious, very curious. The two males were indeed intoxicated in some way, but she couldn't quite pinpoint it. Dipping her head in greeting to the blue Valley boy, a wry smile tugged her lips as he stumbled over his own name. Shah it would be then, though she was sure his name was something more complicated. Dark eyes turned to the red tinged Irishman, watching as he approached her. She trembled slightly at his touch, a light warm feeling spreading from the point of contact through her bones and the rest of her body. Pressing her scarred nose briefly to his muscular neck, she inhaled the scent of salt and sea, and the musky scent that marked him as male. A dark velvet chuckle escaped her lips, a sound very unlike the stoic warrior mare.
It is a pleasure to meet you, Shah, and you Reilly. And yes I know Librette, she was the one who brought me to the Valley. I quite agree, she is, as you put it, awesome. Such a small creature for such a big force of will, but of course looks can be deceiving. And as for the question about why I am called the nightmare, it is something my mother always called me. She said I was her worst nightmare brought to life, of course that was before I killed her. She tore my ear to "teach me a lesson", and I killed her to teach her one. And then of course, there were the stallions that tried to claim me as their own..who left rather hurriedly with a few wounds from their amorous tendencies.
A pleasant sensation filled her dark body, the shadows clinging to her as she stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the meadow. They recoiled as they met the light of the sun, beckoning her back into their cool dark embrace. She stumbled a bit as she moved, planting all four feet solidly to make sure she didn't fall into the two men, another bubble of dark laughter escaping her shadowed lips. She rather liked these two men, although Reilly sent warm, tingly feelings through her body, which wasn't something she had ever experienced before. Perhaps it was his special brand of whatever it was he was doing, though physical attraction seemed to be playing a part in it as well. Black tail lashed against her scarred haunches, muzzle extending out toward the two men as she swayed in place, her focus grown fuzzy.
Alptraum Mare 10 years Black (Ee/aa) Percheron x Friesian 18 hands No Consort, The Valley, No Hellspawn Sael
You see, I'm not like those other girls, baby I'm your bloody creature poster girl
If he had been a little bit less intoxicated, he might have realized that he is rapidly becoming a third wheel. But then, he is not, so the thought does not even occur to him. A haphazard smile is curving his lips, his eyelids drooping over chocolate brown eyes. Suddenly, a giggle escapes his lips. He’s not sure whether it is in response to Apltraum’s laughter, or Reilly’s inebriated attempts to sweet talk her.
If he had been in his right mind, the fact that this dark mare had killed her own mother might have bothered him. But still, he is not. He is undeniably a mama’s boy. Oh, not overtly so. Rather more subtle. But his loyalty to her and his ability to bring around her fiery temper with a few charming words spoke of it loudly enough. So that she could dislike her mother enough to kill her baffles him. The confusion shows clearly on his features as he gazes at her with slightly bleary eyes.
Well now, tha’s jus’, um, odd. I guess?
Suddenly, another laugh spills from his lips, loud and boisterous. He stumbles forward, his intent to give Reilly a companionable bump on the shoulder with his nose. Instead, he falls into him heavily, long legs tangling. He lands quite unceremoniously on the ground, his large, dark brown eyes blinking up at his two companions in surprise. And, just as before, he laughs again, the sound ringing in the warm afternoon air.
Y’know m’friend, I was gonna suggest y’ keep an eye out, less’ you end up short a few body parts. But maybe I shoul’ be th’one keepin’ an eye out.
He bursts into another peal of laughter as he struggles to his feet, coffee colored eyes twinkling with humor. With exaggerated care, he bumps his nose into Alptraum instead, as though attempting to let her in on the rather poor jest.
