"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
The mountains seem to have their own gravitational pull, for she orbits them like the moon does the planet. The pines whisper against the mist with a wet rasp, like dying lungs. This is her birthplace - here nestled beneath the Chamber’s beating heart. Sometimes she finds her mother here. Sometimes she finds solitude. As of late the mountains have been quiet.
She rests beneath the evergreens, where she and her mother once weathered the cold of winter. She knows this land as if it were a part of her. She had grown up here; simple, sheltered, safe. She had not known at the time that her mother had been waiting for someone. She did not know the scent that once permeated the trees was that of her sire. She only knew that it existed, along with the scent of pine, and the feel of mountain mist. Not much has changed, save the scents of different stallions that have tried to lay claim to the land. In all of her lingering here, Liselle has yet to meet anyone other than her mother, and her twin siblings.
She is no longer slight and willowy as she had been in her youth. Her heritage is muddled with heavy draft, and feral mustang. She bears little refinement, built more for power than for speed. Yet, it is impossible to see Liselle as anything but a kind soul. She comes from the blood of war, the blood of anger, the blood of hatred, but she does not know it. All Liselle knows are the mountains, the pines, and the hum of her mother’s lullabies.
She hums them now, soft and gentle against the hoarse whisper of the conifers.
12-12-2015, 02:51 PM (This post was last modified: 12-12-2015, 02:51 PM by Zayn.)
He doesn’t know much about his father. He only knows what his mother has told him - that Gryffen had been an evil, abusive stallion. That she hopes Zayn will never be anything like him. The ravings of a weak, pathetic mare.
He’s only gleaned a little bit more since joining the ranks. His father had been high up in the ranks, a leader and an instigator. Someone to look up to.
His mother is a fool.
He’d heard that Gryffen had once had a herd too, in a little territory in the mountains. And he wants to see it. Wants to see the place his father had called home.
The place is only a short distance from the Chamber and he arrives early in the day, when the mists still cling to the trees. It’s a desolate place - from his position amongst the trees, he can detect no signs of life. He’s kind of enjoying the overall ambiance.
But then, a soft sound interrupts the stillness. A humming, a quiet, soft humming. Someone is here.
He feels irritated that someone has interrupted his moment of reverence. This had been his opportunity to connect with his father and this creature is intruding.
He follows the sound, winding his way through the trees. Finally, as the mists life, he manages to make out a shape between the evergreens. A mare. A lone, black mare.
A smile crawls across his lips as an idea forms in his mind.
He slips out of the trees, still grinning and slides up next to her. Without giving her time to think, she leans forward and gives her a good nip. “Not wise to be in a place like this by yourself. You’re mine now.”
Liselle is no stranger to the snap of twigs, or the rustle of the undergrowth. The Mountains are full of sound within the hollow silence. She had never been afraid of the Mountain’s hidden companions; she is one of them, afterall. She has grown accustom to the heavy breath of fog against her neck. She wears the lowlying mists as if she were born of them. She is as lacking in refinement as this jagged mountainside, but she is still, somehow, beautiful. But, there is something ugly afoot.
Her humming gives her position beneath the pines away to a stallion whose scent she has never picked up before until now. There have been many who have sought to make the Mountain’s theirs. Some have succeeded in their endevors, but never for very long. All this time spent lingering here, she has managed to go unclaimed.
That is, until this very moment.
The first thing she notices are his eyes, malevolent red, and then a swift flash of yellowed teeth. She squeals and strikes out at the air before her. She is miffed, but not enough to seek recompense.
She has virtually no experience with the opposite sex. She does know that her mother has waited most of her life to be remembered by those she had given all to. She does know the anguish those men have caused, even if Locklyn tried to hide it. But, she doesn’t quite understand. Needless to say, she isn’t sure how to react to being claimed, so she shuffles away a few steps, but doesn’t flee entirely.
“Aren’t you charming.” she says, and her voice seems suprisingly genuine in spite of the sarcasm. She steps closer with a smile that is either simpering, or coy, or something else entirely. “May I know my captor’s name?” she asks with a bat of her doe eyes.
As he waits for her response, his red eyes travel over her body, inspecting his newest possession. She is acceptable enough - passably pretty (to his eyes), with the appearance of good health. She will make a good addition to his little herd. A good carrier for his future children. And now his tiny herd is up from two mares to three.
Finally she responds, calling him ‘charming,’ and he can’t help but chuckle. At least she is not some sad, wilting flower, like his pathetic mother. He is surprised though that she does not seem particularly inclined to dispute his claiming. Not yet anyway. “Oh I do try, my dear.” She steps closer to him, eying him with an expression that is surprisingly hard to read. Is she actually flirting? Or simply waiting for the opportunity to strike? “I am Zayn, of both the Chamber and these Mountains.” Throwing caution to the wind, he takes a step closer to her as well. “And what might your name be, pretty-thing?”
As he stares her down, he can’t help but feel some small amount of pride. Only recently he’d had nothing - an empty herd land, and no position in the Chamber, besides being the son of a captive. Now … now he still doesn’t have a position in the Chamber, but he does have mares. Three mares and possibly two children on the way. Things are definitely starting to look up for him. He just hopes that this string of luck will continue.
His red eyes momentarily slide away to the surrounding territory, slipping over the forbidding rocky landscape. Now that he thinks on it, this is an incredibly odd place for a mare to come on her own. Most horses aren’t even aware of the little territory’s existence. “What brought you to this land anyway?”
