"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 was frustrated, extremely frustrated. With who or what you might think? Herself. Esileif hates it how she is indecisive, how hard it is to find the right home. And what’s worst is that the tobiano mare feels so extremely humiliated by the fact that there are so many gifted creatures around. Oh, how much she longs for such thing herself. The worst thing is that she knows how she can try to achieve them, but her terrible indecisiveness holds her back.
She has seen both the Gates and the Valley, both represented by a winged male and she has had a tour through both kingdoms. Magnus had told her about how he saw the Gates, how she slowly but surely was growing and that she was eager for revenge. Fennick had assured her that there was a war upcoming and that they would be at the right side of it. Where the Gates was truly beautiful and amazing (and which girl didn’t appreciate such thing?), the Valley reminded her of her birth-home. The mountains, the smell of pine trees, it was the scent of the home she had left in search for a purpose.
Esileif missed her parents, missed the secured and safe feeling, the fact that she had always known what she wanted. Oh yes, she had been like a little princess. Spoiled through and through. The little princess had grown into a queen, yet her behaviour was better described as the one of a spoiled princess that easily threw a fit. The bay and faintly orangey white mare wanted to be that queen so badly, she wanted, needed, to be better, to become better, but she simply did not know how to.
Frustrated with herself and the world around her she let a loud scream escape her lips. Ears were pushed back against her skull and instead of moving gracefully Esileif was stomping. Snow crackled underneath her hooves, leaving a clear trail behind for anyone to follow. But right now that wasn’t the thing that kept her busy, maybe it would even be better if she could release her frustration upon a stranger.
11-30-2015, 02:05 PM (This post was last modified: 11-30-2015, 02:08 PM by Fynnegan.)
♦ Fynnegan ♦
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to watch myself from above, to self-narrate everything that went on around me. I would describe the tall one's reactions to me, and how I move through this place differently than most. I had yet to meet any other short legged- beast like me. I think it would be a grand thing- to be able to look down on the world from above- or maybe i just dream of big things. I guess if you were me, you would dream of being bigger too. Just take any ol' average horse and reduce everything by half, well then you would have me. I just want to see what everyone else does when I come through, and have it a little easier.
This snow is cumbersome, as it is halfway to me knees. Yeah, it may not be that hard to attain when you are as close to the ground as I am, but oh well, I dislike it just the same. This particular type of snow is the worst, were there is the crackle and crunch under the weight of a fresh step. The top of the snow a little bit more ice than it is snow- makes the effort of each step just the more tedious. I don't mind hard work, but what I wouldn't give to have longer legs so I could make it to destination quicker and with less effort right about now. I stop my slightly strained steps to rest for a moment. The meadow is a great place, but I feel like it is stretching on forever. I wish I could borrow Magnus's wings! Now then I would be set. My mane rustles as I shake my head with a chuckle. Borrow his wings, how silly.
I jolt with quite the shock, my moment of self-laughter abruptly ending. There was a shout, no a shriek from the distance, and now that he was aware to the sounds around him, a distinct and different sound than usually is around the meadow-- heavy stomping feet. Most the sounds I hear around here are calm conversations, and quiet foot falls. Not yelps, never yelps. I can't help but wonder if there is something going on. I pick up all 9 hands of me and move out quickly towards the sound. I shall not sit by while someone else may be in danger! I round a corner and see a lone mare, stomping around, having quite the fit.
I stopped, head tilted curiously to the side. My fuzzy black pelt stretched over a fit lean body, a short body, but a fit one just the same. My stance relaxed from that of a poised hero-- to that of a confident, yet confused stallion. I walk a little closer as the lass continues to stomp around, my voice is deeper than my size would suggest, a nice tenor. "Um.... miss, I couldn't help but hear you shout, is everything ok? I look up at her; I mean I look up to everyone, eyes crinkled in an appropriate amount of concern. "Can I help you with anything? Name's Fynnegan- but I'll let you call me Fynn, if you'd like to." I flash my most suave smile, more out humor than actually wanting to put the moves on her. After all she was having quite the fit, I know nothing of her…I simply wished to help.
» death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily «
Oh yes, she too longed to ‘borrow’ Magnus’ wings. But in her case it wasn’t a simple longing, no, she was actually obsessed with it and she really desired such a gift and would go far, really far, in attempts to obtain them. Maybe you can even say Esileif would go too far, because the wellbeing of those around her aren’t taken into consideration on her way to achieve her goals. Wings alone wouldn’t be enough anymore, before perhaps, but now there are too many winged creatures around. There is simply no way that the bay and faintly orangey white girl would be content with it. But underneath her bold, loud and fierce appearance there was a small child, someone quite insecure and looking for reassurance in the gifts she sees so much around her.
The heavily Spanish influenced mare keeps on stomping, growling and sneering in the direction of everything that displeases her. She can feel their eyes land upon her, following her as she stomps her way through the meadow. Only god knows how much she hates this place, like she is stuck somewhere without any future, without any possibilities. The meadow is just plain, horribly plain, and Esileif can simply not understand why those who flocked around here seemed to lack ambition. What use would your life have, what could you gain from it?
Her fit is disrupted by his voice. Esileif snorts loudly, jerking herself around – and she can only just maintain her balance while doing so – she turns to face the stranger. It takes her a moment to cast her eyes down, meeting the gaze of a short yet lean body of a dark male. Momentarily she forgets the thrown fit, blinking a few times as her two toned eyes look at him, before growling something from deep within her throat. ”I’m perfectly fine” she replies, a little too fast and without any friendliness. ’Oh well done Esi, that sounded very convincing’ she silently curses herself.
She mutters something underneath het breath, some more things about herself, but eventually somewhat relaxes. Her dark tail flicks through the air as the irritation hadn’t left her body completely. Yet Esileif forces herself to put on her best smile. There was no way that she would just tell a stranger about her own shortcomings, about the troubles she was facing. That wouldn’t be the grace of a queen. ”I’m Esileif” she instead responses, her gaze not leaving his. Although he might be her senior the tobiano girl is simply not able to put her shield down. To show him her true colors – that were quite softer than the hard ones she forced herself to show – would mean that she would reveal her weak side. And prey-animals like horses should never, ever, show their weaknesses. Or at least, that was how she thought.
12-03-2015, 12:20 AM (This post was last modified: 12-03-2015, 12:21 AM by Fynnegan.)
♦ Fynnegan ♦
I can’t say there are many things I enjoy less than an unwarranted verbal lashing. This orange tinted lass before me was very good are handing them out it would seem. She had first not hid her surprise at my size well, which made my blood pressure rise, but I contained myself well. I wish I hadn’t- considering how she treated my helpful greeting. There I was giving up my time and my energy to help her- no manors. Nope, I need this not- I should have gone strait to dale, to meet weir and his friends. But I didn’t and she greeted me poorly; I should have let me temper go.
-----------
I pin my ears at her razor sharp words, the nerve of this lass. I think I shall take my leave. I feel spring creeping up and I would rather not waste any more of my favorite season with this failed social interactions. I nod curtly; I don’t bother to hold my displeasure with her. ”Well, then… if that is how you feel, good day.” I turn away back the way I came. I hear my voice, more dark than usual, but not hateful. Good, I think, it is good to not stoop too low- even if she deserves her own medicine. I huff out, trying to let the unpleasantness go, but I find it difficult. I have put a few steps between us when I hear something, muttering…I can’t make it out from the sharp-tongued fit thrower behind me. I can’t help but look back, she is irritated, but seemed to calm. I turn around, why? Why do I do this? Why do I feel the need to go back, and for what? More verbal lashings? But alas, I go, I can’t help my curiosity. I can’t see I’ve even seen a fit like that, and I want to know what could cause such a thing.
I return the few passes, and look at the orange tinted white and bay lass. She is smiling? Well at least it is a more welcoming image than before. Esileif, she has a name. I hear her as she puts on this mask, royal and proper, as if I am her subject and she my queen. Well then, I shall play, I might still be a little biffed from earlier. Ah, oh well. I bow, grandly, overly so. There, from my fully flourished bow I rise, and make myself as tall as possible. ”I am Fynnegan, the Mighty” I hold her gaze, I may be small but I will not be treated as such, and I am her elder—even if but a few years. I wait, see if she will break, even after that pause I purposefully continue to hold her gaze, proving my point. ”So… what can cause a royal lass like yourself to have such an…anger?” I tilt my head, and continue to look upon her, She may be tall, but hat does not make her big. He would not accept anything less that what he is due.- equal respect…an manors.
» death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily «
She hadn’t asked for his attention, for his companionship, but it didn’t meant that it didn’t flatter her. Underneath all the masks and appearances laid an insecure girl. And which girl didn’t like the flattered feeling of a male that shows interest. However, that didn’t mean that Esileif would show it. In her opinion it would make her look weak, even weaker with her outburst, and she had always had trouble with admitting things that would make her seem less. So it did hurt her to hear those words and seeing him turn away. The spoiled little princess inside of her only seemed displeased, it would be below her dignity to call him back to her. She wouldn’t beg, desperate to believe that she held up her pride like that.
Her previous tantrum is slowly forgotten as he does turn back to her, conflicting her once again. Why would he come back to her, Esileif knows that she hadn’t been very friendly to him, yet it was something she could not help – or at least, she liked to believe that, she convinced herself to believe that. Yet that didn’t mean that his bow left a sour taste in her mouth and on top of that the bay and faintly orangey white girl didn’t know how to react to it. As Esileif looks at him her heart clenches slightly, suddenly feeling so little – even smaller than him – next to the short stallion.
As a real Queen should ask she tries to hide her inner struggles and as she succeeds to hide her conflicting feelings inside of her a small smile adorns her lips. It’s not a big one and it isn’t fully meant yet, but at least she has the heart to be polite, like a queen would do in such situation. Instead of throwing a fit like a spoiled princess that was. ”Please Fynnegan, don’t disgrace me or real royals by addressing me in such way” she replies, still a little too stiff and a little harsher than she should, but compared to before the tone is much more friendlier and appropriate.
She wouldn’t want any more than to just ignore his question, to just pretend she hadn’t heard it. But Esileif also didn’t know how she could explain that little accident to him without admitting her wrongdoings, without speaking bad of herself. As she desperately searches to be someone, to gain fame through a purpose and accomplishments, it feels like a contradict to make herself less. ”I.. I was a.. little frustrated with some recent.. developments in life” she eventually answers him. It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t the entire truth either. Yet Esileif does hope that his curiosity doesn’t push him to question her further.
I can't say I know why I stay and talk with this girl. She may want to me more, but she has much to learn, I feel. I see her morph, switching from mask to mask her persona as fluent as a toddler's. Fickle is not what I mean, nor do I mean the young lass is fake... no, none of those words are fitting. It is like when a child wants to be grown up to they play dress up and try on different personas, they explore themselves. Ah yes, that is what I mean. Like she wants to me more- be a better version of herself, but isn't sure how. I watch her, wishing I understood more, understood the why? I find I wonder about others a lot, there is much to learn from other creatures.
I may be salty still, she was crass in her words and has yet to show any sign of being real with me. I find thick layers of propriety and manors to dull a conversation to a screeching halt. So I find it hard to not quip back as she asks me not to be disgraceful. I stop and think though... what is more disrespectful, bowing in jest, of assuming the role when you are not titled to it? I don't dwell long, as I need to reply "I disgraced you little considering how you disgraced me, whether or not an audience you sought. I approached out of sincere concern, and was met with harsh tones and verbal lashings. And I disgrace royals even less, a true leader understands humor and how old traditions do not the ruler make. Anyway, 'Fynnegan the Mighty' is a nickname of sorts given to me by a friend of mine. " I make sure my tones are kind, and explanatory. I don't pretend to know it all, but I know when a wrong has occurred and when it hasn't been righted. Esileif is intriguing, but I wont over look her rudeness- no matter how accidental.
I listen to her explain why she was in a tizzy, I hear the depths of her story through her shallow words, she was reluctant to say more. Considering our rocky start I try to be the figuratively bigger person. I nod in understanding, making my face soft, and eyes kind and understanding.Sometimes life doesn't show us the paths we feel it should, but I find the unexpected paths can be just as interesting, no?"
I didn't want to dig into her past, she seems so delicate about it, which I see in her defensiveness. I think that a future based conversation might do her good. "So, life threw you a curve, so what shall you do next? I am on my way to the dale, to see about joining them, I do hope I like it, but I won't know unless I try. So what do you want to try now?"
I smile at her a little, pushing away the anger and allowing myself to move on and away from the pitted start of their acquaintance.
» death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily «
12-19-2015, 02:35 PM (This post was last modified: 12-19-2015, 02:37 PM by Esileif.)
I'm your Queen, you're my Ruler.
If she would only know that he could so easily see through her appearances she would have to fight another inner war. If she knew that he knew her walls would crumble and leave her vulnerable and upset. The little girl would be out there in the open. Well, that was one option. The other was that the two toned Spanish girl would pretend like she didn’t know, like he didn’t know, and just keep the façade up. Probably with another thrown fit or something like that. Yet Esileif would easily admit one thing; that she still had a lot to learn. The why was something the short male could only guess, if she would admit it all things would be for nothing. No. She had to become better, to show who she was, to become more than just a herd born mare that nobody knows.
Where her own words had been unfriendly, harsh even, his are almost painful. He know exactly what to say to strike her, to hurt her, and all Esileif can do is back away a few steps while she snorts softly. Her blue and brown eyes widen in surprise, momentarily showing how she really feels, instead of showing him a mask. ”Then let me say it in this way, Fynnegan the Mighty, I find it more comfortable if you address me by my name.” She replies once she has put up her mask again. Her voice is soft, words not harsh or mean, neither meant in such way. Yet she also doesn’t know how to behave. He might be short, but his personality clearly isn’t and Esileif clearly doesn’t know how to handle it.
”I thought that my path was clear when I left my father’s herd.” Her gaze travels to stare somewhere in the distance, looking at the mountain peaks that remind her of her former home. She had spoken the truth, she had thought so easily of finding a fitting home, a home that could help her achieve her goals, but she had been terribly wrong. ”And I’m not sure if an unexpected path will lead to the same results as the expected one.”
Esileif turns her head back towards him to look at him again, her gaze cast somewhat down, not because she feels better than him or to belittle him, but if she wouldn’t she would be looking over him instead of at him. ”The Dale?” she repeats, tilting her head a little as her gaze meets his. She had never heard for such place, thus far she only knew about the meadow, the mountains that once had been her home and the Gates and the Valley that were possible future homes. ”I don’t want to try anything” she replies, maybe a little too fast and to short, but she isn’t snapping or throwing harsh words at him. ”I want to succeed, not to try..” Unspoken were the words that she was afraid to fail.
12-22-2015, 12:49 PM (This post was last modified: 12-24-2015, 12:37 AM by Fynnegan.)
♦ Fynnegan ♦
I am forever curious. It is why I stopped to find the source of the screams I heard a while back, it is why I have stayed here even after I was much annoyed. I want to understand her, though I doubt I ever truly would in just a single conversation. So when she finally manages to speak without an air of superiority or curtness, I smile and nod. It seems there is an ounce of humanity in her yet. "Well Esileif, I can do that. And please, Fynn is just fine." I grew tired of standing still, so I turned and walked away a few steps, I looked back and flung my head in a "come on" manner and kept walking- I figured she would follow.
I can't help but wonder what drives her to be so poised... so perfect. I personally find perfect boring. If you are always perfect how can you really live. I fought the urge to spash some mud on her- just to test a theory that she was as easily flustered by physical imperfection as she was by mental imperfection. But I was trying to not fluster her further- I was trying to have a positive interaction. I look at up at her as she speaks again, of success. There are unspoken words there and I think I know them, I think I understand. "Success only happens through trying, yes? I can't succeed if at first I don't try to succeed. Or that's how I see it. And I only learn more about succeeding through failing. It's part of the process- well my process at least." The last part about failure I threw in to see if I heard those unspoken words correctly. I think she wants a position, but doesn't know how to work for it- not knew not how to achieve it. Maybe we could help each other.
I had been thinking for some time that I needed more than just a herd. That I would want more than a slow rise in a kingdom where I would be overlooked by those who quite literally stood over me. I looked at the lass who so easily could be a leader if she were honest to herself. Maybe she just needed an opportunity, and I just needed a lass so I can claim lands. I think i have an idea, a proposition to make. I looked at her and smile grew upon my face. I knew little about the lass, and i may one day regret this idea I have but for now we can help each other I think. "So Esileif, I have a proposition for you. I wish to have my own herd. But I need help- I have to have a lass, like yourself. So if you don't want to try, only succeed, How about you help me and in return I'll give you a title. That is success, no?"
I looked at her searching her eyes for signs of that what she thought behind her carefully crafted exterior. I wouldn't know for sure until she spoke, but I imagined I pinned down her motives correctly. If I was right- in a mere moment I could claim my lands, and no one could tell me I was too little to do anything.
» death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily «
ooc: sorry it is so short. fynn words were not cooperating :| also i has plot idea. I will PM you
It had never been her intention to act like a superior being. Or at least, she didn’t mean to give Fynnegan the feeling that she tried to be better than him. She just wanted to show him a better, more superior, version of herself. Not that she would admit that out loud, and neither would Esileif admit that to herself – because that would be a sign of weakness. Yet she offers him a smile, one that hides her inner struggles, but is genuinely meant. ”Thank you, Fynn, I appreciate that.” At his invitation she moves forward, but never able to fall in step with his pace.
Yes, Esileif would probably give the world to be able to be perfect. Then she could show her father and everybody else her in the best state, the most perfect one. But the bay and orangey white girl did know that that wasn’t realistic on short term, it was something she had to achieve and to be able to do so she first had to make a choice; the Valley or the Gates. It are Fynnegan’s words that pull her out of her thoughts again and after a moment of blank stare she offers him an apologetic smile. ”I just don’t want to dive in blind, weight the options and make a choice. Preferably the right one” she answers him. Yet Esileif also does know that its alright to have own opinions, that she doesn’t agree with the short male doesn’t mean that he is less, although she criticizes those words in her head.
His words take her by surprise and it shows on her features. Not only because she is flattered by his words and surprised by the meaning of it, but it also signals how he had been able to see through her. She had never mentioned that she had troubles to pick a home, struggling to decide which of the options would be the better one. ”I.. Me.. You want to.. to start you herd with.. me?” she asks, not able to hide her sudden shyness and vulnerability. Esileif is even somewhat afraid that he is fooling her. Her gaze meets Fynnegan’s and she isn’t able to hide the masks she previously showed. For him stands a young, vulnerable, shy and insecure girl, and nothing more than that. ”That.. I think” she pauses.
”Yes, that would be success. And yes, I would help you if you’ll be able to give me that.”
12-31-2015, 06:32 PM (This post was last modified: 12-31-2015, 06:34 PM by Fynnegan.)
♦ Fynnegan ♦
I enjoy our walk. I don't know if Esileif finds it as enjoyable, she seemed awkward, Like she didn't know how to walk with me. A small laugh escapes my mouth "Oh please Esileif don't worry about me, I'll keep up with you. These little legs are used to the pace of you tall folk." I smile, it is a simple thing- trying to lighten the mood, as she is so serious. So driven. I hear her brush of my thoughts, but simply in disagreement- or so I think. I nod along her ideas aren't wrong or faulty- but I guess we just have different ways at viewing the world.
But what I really want to know is what she had to say about my proposal. We walked and talked and its a lovely time, well minus the beginning. Anyway, I smile as my proposal sank in, she was obviously not sure what to think. For a moment I thought I saw the real her, the driven young lass. she fumbled her way through her thoughts partially out loud. I think i like her more this way, less polished mess perfect. But before I can say so, her face falls still and she put her composure all proper and correct. and I hear her answer, thoguth he words still held the shock of it.
I nod to her, big grin on my face. "Perfect! Just great, I have quite the land picked out, I think it is quite nice. A stream, plenty of shade and tree cover. I am thinking it would be a perfect sanctuary. It is within the Dale, so we are technically within their kingdom but we will not have to be involved in things unless we decide. Oh and you have to meet Weir, my friend I told you I was going to meet, he doesn't know yet. I think he will be much pleased." Ok ok, yes, I might have been prancing and yes, i was excited, but it had all come together. That is exciting, no? Well I looked at her and knew that she could grow within my herd. It would be good for her and maybe she would relax some. "So, shall we go see the space?!?" I don't really give her time to answer. I knew by her ernest reply that she was excited, on some level and that she would want to see it, and would follow. My little legs took off at a nice little gallop, so what she could easily canter along, this would be good. a new start. Ma told me to rise, and well look here, I did it.
» death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily «
