"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
as many times as I blink, I'll think of you tonight
She was used to getting looks, to hearing murmurs and sad sighs, to getting chased away, to falling and trying to pick herself back up. She had learned to keep her head low and out of sight, to keep away from those that only wished to see her fall. This, however, hadn't hardened her heart. She was supple and pliable, full of love and generosity. The fact she only had three legs had become a part of her life now, and she embraced it. It made her unique, and all the teasing in the world wouldn't change that. She functioned as any other horse would, and she used the bullying from when she was younger to make her strong, whilst also making sure she never harbored resentment. She knew how hard it was for others to accept differences, to accept the strange and unknown. She didn't hold their judgments against them - they simply didn't know any better. She knew her strengths and her limitations. She couldn't run nearly as fast as others, and she got tired if the fast pace kept up too long, but she was resilient and sharp-minded. She was a mother at heart and hoped that she would find pure, unadulterated love, and that she would have a little one all her own one day. Wishful thinking, she knew, but there was nothing she loved more than to imagine a life where she was a lover and a mother. She's a gentle soul, truly, and there wasn't a thing she wouldn't do to help someone else. She thought about all this as she grazed in the field, choosing to lay down and graze in the area around her; her front leg was aching and she couldn't help but enjoy the way the warm summer grass felt on her body and the sweet taste of it, the way the breeze that teased her mane and the sun shone through the leaves to ghost over her body. She would occasionally think of her time back in the Dale and feel a pang of loneliness, but she knew she had done good work there and that her sadness would pass and be filled with a sense of peace instead. So she grazed and so she rested, ears flicking about lazily, aware of everything but worried about nothing at all.
She does not stay in the Jungle long after having shown Kataclysm around. There is work to be done, and the thrill of exploring lands she never knew as a child is addicting. She has not been asked to visit any of the other kingdoms after the last meeting, and she feels slightly disheartened. She thinks, perhaps after all she may be best suited for the ranks of the army. She holds no silver tongue behind her lips. She has no friends to speak of. What an unlikely diplomat. Yet, she finds herself travelling towards the Field again.
Summer is much kinder to her than the harsh bite of Winter. Her eternally sleek coat gleams against the sunlight as she scouts the Field for someone worth her while. This place is very different from her jungle home. There is food everywhere, for both predator and prey.
She cannot help but imagine herself as the tigress, prowling through the grasses, searching for a weakness in the herd. She is eyeing a passing horse, alone, and ragged, when a flash of white catches her attention; ears peeking above the tall grass. She decides to investigate.
She approaches, neck slung low, and nose outstretched. When she comes upon the pale mare, she postures up, casting a dark shadow over her. She's just about to tell the girl how foolish it is to be caught lieing down in such a place as this when she notices the lack of a foreleg, and nearly chokes on her words.
She tries to save herself with, “Hello!” But, it comes out much louder than she had hoped, and she snorts, and shakes her head.
”I'm sorry.” She offers, quieter this time - more kind. She doesn't know it, but she has her mother's voice. “My name is Aoi. Do you need help?”
as many times as I blink, I'll think of you tonight
She heard the hooves before she saw the source, her ears flicking to the side to try and locate from where this individual was approaching, delicate head tilting and turning to try and see what her ears could not catch. She struggled to rise - she always had, no matter how many years passed it was still hard - and just as she had gotten her feet underneath her a shadow stopped her mid-rise. It loomed over her as she sunk back into the tall summer grass, and she turned her gaze to see them.
The mare's nose - she deducted this quite quickly, for a stallion would most likely take advantage of her being so low - was outstretched, as if to scent her, but she saw the shock flash in the mare's eyes as her body shifted to reveal the missing appendage. As used to is as she was, it still stung a little to see the shock and dismay, but as the mare let out a too-loud "hello!" in greeting, she offered a kind smile in return. It was not her fault that such things were hard to process, and at least she was trying to be polite. She got points for that.
Her apology was a balm to the gentle sting her loud greeting caused, and she dipped her nose in greeting before once again getting her limbs underneath her in an attempt to rise. It always took a few tries but soon enough she was up, shaking dirt and grass from her white coat, pink-rimmed eyes turning to take in the mare, Aoi. It was kind of her to ask if she needed help, and she couldn't help but chuckle. "I am Palebird, and no, I am just fine." Her voice was gentle, matching the kindness in Aoi's voice. She seemed young but old at the same time, a curious contradiction she found intriguing. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Aoi. And thank you for the apology - I know you meant no harm from it." </p>
She is conflicted. While her mother had taught her kindness, and the Jungle had showed her mercy, she had also been shown the meaning of ‘survival of the fittest.’ The Jungle swallowed the weak, and feeble with little ceremony. Even the plants fought each other to the death. Those who made it to the canopy first lived, all others withered into the forest floor. Weak animals became prey. Aoi herself had once been swallowed up by her own Mother Jungle.
To Aoi, it is a wonder that the pale, three legged mare had survived into adulthood. She looks away as the mare struggles to stand. Instead she scans the surroundings for possible threats. For some reason she feels driven to protect this stranger.
Aoi does not realize it, but there is a theme here. She has a penchant for defending the broken. Even if she was to do so blindly. She does not know this mare, but she doesn’t know the Gates either. The whispers of war were more like battle cries now, and here she was willing to give her blood for the ashes of a Mother Tree that she has never even seen. Aoi cannot let anything happen to this mare.
“A pleasure to meet you as well, Palebird.” She replies. Decorum still feels peculiar, and unsettling to her, but she manages a smile (albeit more awkward than pleasant). “Are you looking for a home, or testing the waters?” She asks. Her method is much kinder with this mare, than it had been with Kataclysm. What she doesn’t say is that she doesn’t want to leave her here alone. What she doesn’t say is that this mare shouldn’t be here at all.
as many times as I blink, I'll think of you tonight
She can see that the mare is somewhat uncomfortable, still, by the formality and the awkwardness of her smile, but she doesn't hold that against her, and never had. She understands that it must be hard to be around an equine such as herself, one who is crippled and cannot fend for herself as well as others. She assumes there must be some sort of motherly instinct in those mares who approach her, for they see her as helpless as a child, but she is remarkably strong considering her disability. She cannot lash out easily to protect herself, but she can balance well enough on two legs to place a well-deserved kick, if needed, and she has enough muscle on the sides she uses to carry it though with strength. She does not want sympathy or sad sighs, she wants to be treated as any other - but she knows it will not happen. So she lives with that, contentedly.
"I am, in fact, looking for a home." She is cautious but nonetheless friendly, her voice gentle; it seems as if Aoi might just skitter away if she gets too loud. "But I wish not to be a burden on any soul, and I am content to rest in the field so long as I have friends." She aches for a home; the Dale is a part of her past she cannot remember as well as she wishes, and she wants to make a new start within a new area. Perhaps she may visit the Dale again, to see if any others remember her. "I was once a member of the Dale, a diplomat, and have no issue being one again." She smiles, reassuringly, and dips her head in respect. "I miss the work, truly, and I miss having a residence." She meets Aoi's eyes with a certain firmness that has not been there prior, to make sure her point goes across. "But believe me when I tell you that I want to earn my place where I live. My disability does not make me any lesser than another, and I know how to care for myself. I will be no burden." </p>
Some may be intimidated—I for one, am scared of my own self—and others may be aloof to all my capabilities. But let me be fair, let me be honest and warn you that your character is about to toy with a very aggressive python. And while I try to encourage you to walk away, to see me as a very, ambiguous threat, you might not just listen.
And if you do not listen, then you will just learn.
And I promise when learning, when listening, if you aren’t devoured whole or suffocated, you will become a very strong snake too.
I hide in the shadows, comforted by the soft inhale and exhale of my live scarf wrapped around my neck. His head rests on my withers, his eyes closed for what has seemed like hours but could only be minutes. Is it just me, or does his weight seem unusually heavy while he sleeps?
I am watching everyone, a dragon flying over a village, while they meander aimlessly at each other. It is sickening, truly, to see such wasted time. They are awkward from a distance, stallions hip swinging to females like a beep boxing rap star. And females, appearing elegant and “flowy” ghostly haunting the potential recruit with sweet harmonized voices and gracefully written sentences. It is like the Queen herself has graced us all with her presence in every female born, no one is individualized. No one is special.
We all have an idea of what would make others like us, and aren’t we all fools to believe that ordinary is beautiful.
It is why I watch instead of sway, why I listen instead of speak. It is why I stand here with a sleeping python looped three times around my neck and shoulders and evidently giggle at the idiotic approach every recruiter has seemingly mastered.
It is why I slowly blink, slowly exhale, slowly indulge in what is around me.
Inhale
Exhale
Hush
One day they will see the most original, unique, perhaps terrifying creature has been the most intriguing of all.
I smell familiarity and instinctively my eyes follow. There, a stranger but one who shouldn’t be a stranger is recruiting. She is cool, calm, dare I say collected, very soft in her voice and very patient in her way of conversation.
Some people don’t care to get the job done, they enjoy the work in between.
We cannot all be smart workers.
I am bored, I always am, so I tell myself now will be the time I go and make use of my day. I emerge from my hunter green habitat and expose myself to the field of idiocy. By now Turkish has awoken from his afternoon nap and I feel him tighten his body as he lefts his head for a better scope of our surrounding.
Oh, that one.
Yes that one.
Seems we already have a representative of ours there, Smother.
Seems like we do.
Then why are you going?
You are shitty company.
He hasn’t fought me recently, not since our last argument. I had told him of my father, of my mother, of my abundance of aunts and uncles. I told him what they did, I told them how it affected me, I told him of the skeletons hung in my closet.
He fought me on if I was too rash on my decision.
I fought him that he had no idea what it felt like to be hated by the people who made you.
He said isn’t it easier to know you are hated and handle life accordingly, than to have no idea and be lied to?
I said it wasn’t easier.
Since then, I have felt our relationship hinder like a door on broken hinges.
“Hello,” I announce as I enter the conversation perhaps a little later than what normally occurs. Didn’t I warn you I am unlike the norm? “I am Smother, this is Turkish.”
It is a shame Turkish is not a rabbit and constantly rambling off the time, maybe then I wouldn’t find myself late.
She does not stay in the Jungle long after having shown Kataclysm around. There is work to be done, and the thrill of exploring lands she never knew as a child is addicting. She has not been asked to visit any of the other kingdoms after the last meeting, and she feels slightly disheartened. She thinks, perhaps after all she may be best suited for the ranks of the army. She holds no silver tongue behind her lips. She has no friends to speak of. What an unlikely diplomat. Yet, she finds herself travelling towards the Field again. 
