"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
How many times had she been here? She couldn't remember...ten? Ten thousand? Did it even matter? The end result was always the same, she sat back and watched as years passed and faces faded away while she remained the same. Ever unchanged by time. Her odd, glittering coat had not lost it's shimmer through the eons, but her personality had. A far cry from the boisterous, self absorbed filly she'd once been she was not reserved. Quiet. Calculating. Though she had changed, her interest in the Field, in Beqanna, had not. So here she was, for the ten thousandth time. Or was it ten thousand and one? The Field during this time of the year was not something she usually tolerated well, the smell alone was usually enough to keep her at bay. Estrus scorched the air, it's putrid stench permeating everything. It was vomit inducing, but still she was here. She wondered if it was due to her secret tryst. The one with the Tundra stallion, which she did not yet know the outcome of. Foolish of her to, after all these years, risk procreation. She had no clue how to parent. She'd never had one. Not that it mattered. Her bay and white coat hinted of a mother she'd never known, save for the sheen to them, the actual glitter they emitted. That, told of an odd gift from a sire she'd never know as her own, but whom she'd heard horror stories of. Odd lineage hers. One, if she were lucky, she'd never have a chance, or reason, to claim. She didn't bother to look around. She knew the scenery well enough. Cliques of horses gathered in groups dotting the sea of green. Some magnificent, others plain, it didn't matter. Everyone was here for the same thing. To eat, or be eaten, by herds or kingdoms. Such was the way of life in the Field, and even she was not immune .
she needed to prove herself, for her own sake as much as Texas'. He had been, to say the least, gregarious in his offer to her for a new home. Yes that would be her word for the day, gregarious. Something that she wasn't, something that she lacked, something that she... wanted? Maybe, or maybe it was just fun to say. Gregarious She muled it over on her tongue once, twice, ok maybe all the way to the feild.
It was a guilty pleasure, something that she, like the rest of her, would hope never to reveal to another soul. Being the shy little thing that she was, ok yea you could say fearful. It had taken quite the effort to convince herself to come back here, and extend the offer that Texas had bestowed upon her, to another soul. Not that she wasn't grateful, on the contrary, she was more then grateful; but extending that offer, meant that she needed to talk, her talk? Nixie had never spouted more than four words at a time in her life.
What did she think she think she was doing? The gentle plod of hooves eventually lead her torwards a more muted path, not so crackly, and snappy as the last one that she followed. The cotton candy pink mare stops for a moment, puzzled by her whereabouts. In her wandering thoughts she had lost her way. Oh trees Yes it was a strange saying, and here she was wandering again. Taking a breath she looked around to oriantate herself, the long trails of horses from ages past that had traveled along here rose in her nostrils. With a hint of fresh blood as well, yes yes yes Texas would have to be proud that he brought her to the falls if she managed to bring one back. Though she doubted that would happen, much less if she found herself capable to approach a horse would she find herself in a desirable position for her offer to be accepted.
Finally she arrived, finally her mutterings stop, but in there place she stands frozen petrifide of the open world in front of her. She had only ever been here in the dark, now she was here in daylight. Stipped bare of shadows to hide the unseemly site of her strange colors, though a glimmer of someone just as strange as her catches her eye. Yes there was a feeling of being drawn to this one. Maybe it was assumtious of her to think so, but she started approaching on shaky knees anyways. Hello I'm Nixie she quirkes a friendly smile head hung just below her shoulders, and tail flat against her haunches. Though she was no danty creature she did try to make herself appear as small as possible.
While Yael fully believes that the mare is capable of taking care of herself, it is breeding season and that can make some overly aggressive and others more skittish than usual. This is when she finds she has the most luck with women - for Yael, though powerful enough to turn someone inside out - looks like she couldn't hurt a fly. Petite, with a sweet smile and empathetic, gentle brown eyes, the former Queen and current Guardian and Consort is the least of any stranger's problems. She lingers in the shadows of a turning tree, muting the metallic glint of the whole of her body. The tree's leaves could never match her own colors, but they are stunning in their own right.
She bides her time, for though they are eager to rebuild their Kingdom, she will not rush it with picking unsuitable members. A bay and white mare catches her eye - at first she thinks it might be Straia, but no, there are no ravens at her side. And then there is another mare, and Yael smiles. This would be an interesting group; she knows neither of them, and it is time to rebuild the impression of the Desert.
Her gait has a rolling gracefulness to it, something akin to sea-legs, but let’s call them sand-legs for lack of a better term. Yael approaches them at an easy trot, keeping her large wings pressed tightly against her sides. They run the full length of her long, Akhal back, and when a brisk wind picks up she hugs them even tighter for warmth. She doesn’t waste her magic to keep herself warm - not until the winter and the truly biting weather descends upon them. And when that happens, she retreats to the sandy warmth for the whole season, unless she absolutely has to leave. This might be one of those seasons where she must stay outside the Kingdom, for their own sake. Yael smiles at the two ladies, and identifies one as from the Falls, though she doesn’t say it. Interesting. They were both running low on subjects, it seems.
“Xello. I ahm Yael. From ze Desert. Vhat breengs you xere?”
To be honest, Kat had never understood the loyalty of the Kingdom goers. The eternal sufferage of another collective being's will. It seemed to her as if it were constant errands in the Field, retrieving parcels of new blood for masters that could care less about their subjects. It seemed odd to her that someone would pledge themselves to that kind of life, to the drama that it brought to the world, and its inhabitants. Constant mad babblings of war, treaties, and who's ass was the newest to be chapped by someone else. For what? To die, a forgotten blemish on the backside of Beqanna. Not that she could honestly talk...what had she done in her lifetime. Existed....that was hardly exemplary. She watches with muted expression as the other mare clambers toward her on trembling legs, like a newborn babe...ironic...and offers a quiet, shaky hello. Kat's gaze is almost predatory for a moment, as she quells a desire to strike out with teeth and hooves, something she'd never been able to identify the origin of in herself, at the fearful thing before her. That vulnerability beckoned to her, igniting an odd flame that was so tempting to kindle....but no sooner did the contemplation cross her mind, she tucked it away. Mad woman, she was. She smiles, relaxing her features into something that at least resembled friendliness. Her moment of bloodlust forgotten like an odd burst of wind. "I'm Kat. Good to meet you." she offered amicably, forcing herself to ignore the weakness she saw in the posture before her. Weakness made her blood churn. She had to try really hard not to be a psychotic nut. She hated when others made it difficult for her, but really...how were they supposed to know. So she straightens her shoulders and gets herself together...just barely. For a glimpse of a moment it is just the pair of them, and then that moment is over, and there are three. An odd gaited woman, impressive....sure of herself approaches. Kat sighs, relaxing as the strange beast in her head shrinks away...sinking in the corner and wimpering 'powerful'. Thank God. She didn't want an episode in the field. An odd accent pours from the winged woman's lips, taking Kat just a fraction of a second longer to decipher the words that accompany it. "I'm here for a new life...just like the rest of the wretches here." she offers with a good natured smirk. She's offered them nothing they don't already know. .
The problem with Katastrophe’s assumptions is that she thinks the masters care nothing for their subjects. Which might be true for some of the rulers of the past (she can think of a few off the top of her head), but the current group these days are awfully… caring. There was a time when she knew everyone in her kingdom and (unoficially) knew all their stories, even if she never let on. Now she can play the pretty, caring Consort and spend all her time with the people instead of ruling. A lovely little break.
It seems odd to her that someone would not want a second family - but maybe that was the foreigner in her talking. Her tribe was unusually close. Family - friends - neighbors - were everything. And now they are gone, gone, gone, their bones long ago turned to dust and spread to the corners of the world. Even there, in what some might consider a primitive society (it wasn’t, though they would never dream of magic like hers), every individual had their role. Even if it was simply babysitting the foals. Alone, they die and are forgotten. Together, they are remembered and live on in others’ hearts. Aviva, Morphine, Nocturnal, Krys, Fictional, Kagerou, Alysanne and Modred. Tali, Levi, Aaron - her own Ima and Abba. There were so many. At least Vanquish is no longer on that list.
So Yael has known mad women and she’s known mad women, and the urge to beat down something that already walks around like a victim is not the desire of a mad woman. She does have a smart tongue on her, though, and the golden mare’s lips quirk upward at the corners. Allright. She walked right into that one. With a small nod to Nixie, she pauses long enough to let the Falls’ mare speak first, and then starts. “A life of mad babbeleeng? Or a life of somet’ing else?” She chuckles, a tinkling sort of sound in the back of her throat as she reveals more of her power and simultaneously tries to smooth it over. “Ve ahr rebuildling ze Keengdom. New life for everyvone eenvolved.”
[sorry for skipping order! I'll be away for thanksgiving starting later tonight and just wanted to get something up]
