"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
i was born in the arms of imaginary friends,
free to roam; made a home out of everywhere i've been.
»«
The little girl had not been out the womb long. But what was peculiar is the smile that tangles across the little palomino's lips. She is perhaps only days old but she seemed perfectly content playing in the dirt, surrounded by tall grasses. Little lifts and falls of the song she hummed to herself carried on the warmth of the fresh spring breeze as tiny hooves made -thud thud- noises as she patted together a mud cake. On the occasion, a butterfly would drift drunkenly by and land on the pearly white mane or the tip of a golden ear. Little Maribel would giggle and roll her eyes to see the insect, oblivious to much else than her work at making the dirt pies.
Despite her solitude, the child did not seemed bothered by the fact her mother had birthed her here. The creamy yellow woman rather bluntly explained for the girl to stay and that someone would be along to fetch her. That was it. Plain and simple. So the tiny child sat on her rear end, fore legs splayed and patting in the mud. The small head tossed back and forth in tune with the little song she sung to herself.
Pale blue pools occasionally lifted when she thought she heard the sound of hooves. The woman who had stayed with her (her mother) did not say more than for Maribel to sit still. The child did not recognize the pale sun colored woman as her mother as the mare frequented her time away and so Maribel occupied herself with chasing bugs and nibbling on wildflowers. Winzy would return and let the child suckle though refrain from speaking to her till Maribel's meal was finished then the woman would go off again and the child would bed down.
Now in these moments the child did not realize that she took on her surroundings and by way of that Maribel would blend in. Her coat would shift to the colors as protection, like camouflage. She did not seem to realize it yet as every morning when she woke and stretched, she would turn back to the golden palomino. Occasionally she would notice a tint of green but her child's mind did not think much of it.
But now on this particular day, the colors of lavender and gold swept around her in a furious bloom of spring. As the little hooves plopped in the mud, Maribel stretches the tiny nose over to a pretty buttercup to give a curious sniff. As she does so, her muzzle begins to turn gold! Big blue eyes widen but she is not afraid, just curious. The gold slides over her body fluidly. Mane. Tail. Hooves. She laughs and laughs at this new trick! The little muzzle moves to touch a cornflower and suddenly the soft blue is replacing the gold! How fun! After some more experimenting, the child realizes she can change colors. It is wild at first with the mixture of blues and green and purples and pinks. She soon realizes she can will this, not change colors because of her background. Maribel finds this quite amusing and laughs as she shifts to the very muddy brown that she was currently playing in. A mud baby indeed!
lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all. but lend me your heart and i'll just let you fall.
He is not certain what wills him to his place.
Perhaps it is the deep, penetrating loneliness that has somehow crept up and found its way beneath his skin once again; familiar like an old friend. It seeps into his skin, saturating his pulsating muscles, his taut tendons, his joints and his bones. It saturates every organ, but most of all, his brain. He settles into a fog - a haze that leaves him vulnerable to the thoughts he had tried so desperately to bury deep within the recesses of his mind. He cannot stay in once place; he is restless. He knows what it waiting for him back within the icy confines of his permanent dwelling, and there was nothing more pervasively lonesome.
He knew he would have to draw himself out of this, and soon, but he did not have the mental strength to. He had come into contact with a female that had elicited the same distinct feelings of attraction he had struggled to find in the seventy years of his life since the loss of his love, and though he had not been truly searching, she had come so abruptly into his life and left so swiftly that his mind was spun trying to interpret and understand it all. It was as if something had been so close to him, he could grasp it, yet he had not recognized it until it was gone. It left him with a sense of longing; it stirred up old emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel in so long.
It is these thoughts that he lingers on as he presses forward past a boundary he had never crossed before. His deep, dark red eyes are studying the landscape, taking in its every dip and lull. Gentle stalks of golden wheat lap gently and caress his skin as his massive form shifts through; his sinewy muscle ripples beneath his skin as he moves forward. He flicks his long, albeit tangled tail along his hock; batting away inevitable insects that seemed to multiply by the seconds this time of year. His movements cause the ground near him to rattle slightly as he disturbed the sediment with his weight, and it is the sudden, soft laughter of another that causes him to so still.
His ears swivel and his muzzle lower as his nostrils flair; he can sense her long before he can see her. He steps forward again, peering over the long tangled treads of wheat, finding a rather peculiar young female (she could not be very old; the sweetness of her skin's scent reminded him of his own children many moons ago) admiring her own shift of color. Offspring had seen many things in his time, but this was a particularly unusual skill - and for the first time in weeks, he found his lips folded in the uptick of a smile. He'd forgotten how bright-eyed and wondrous new life could be.
He peered around the silent land for a moment, and a conclusion settles on him that she has been left here. He now recognized the scent that had permeated the land and washed over him when he had stepped over its unseen boundary. He had stumbled across a sweet, now cocoa-tinted filly, oblivious to her condition, her status or her whereabouts. Her simplicity and zest for life was already wearing down his resolve; he had forgotten how beautiful the little things in life could be.
Gently, he spoke, hoping not to startle her. "Good morning, little one - my name is Offspring. What is your name?"
i was born in the arms of imaginary friends,
free to roam; made a home out of everywhere i've been.
»«
The child did not notice the looming dark shadow that now cooled her as the sun is blocked out. When the touch of a chill shimmies across her skin does she break away from her little world and the small head turns over her shoulder, eyes meeting knees and slowly crawling up to meet the big face attached to those big knees. And perhaps to his surprise, Maribel does not scare. In fact she gives him the biggest (and a little crooked) smile she can muster. Blue eyes blink against his shadow as little lobes flicker to catch the words.
Maribel turns away from him again, having not answered just yet but the spindly limbs move to lift up her hind end. It was still quite the task to gain control of legs that were the longest part of you. With a few tries, the little rump is up! ...and over right into a heap. The filly snorts her displeasure and tries again but this time she is successful. With a shake, dirt flecks fly and the little girl approaches the stallion rather close. Small muzzle extends and gives him a little nibble on the chest...just to make sure he's real, you know. He's the only other horse she's ever seen in her life. Big eyes shine bright as she smiles up at him again. "Hi I'm Maribel! The voice she has is high and girlish and as bright as those blue, blue eyes. "You're really tall, Off-pring." She was working on the whole talking thing too but as of right now she had a bit of a speech impediment. "Were you borned that way?" She stands almost directly under his chin looking up at him. The little one had not yet learned fear in her short life and her curiosity was insatiable. In fact, just to further her amusement, her coat shifts to a solid black like the stallion. A tiny replicate of the massive equine.
With a past so dark, that Satan'd jump out of his seat. But still you out in these streets, thinking you hot as can be. Without the knowledge to lead, so you just follow the sheep. Making sure your lame swag is all polished and clean
Have you ever been surrounded by others, only to feel the greatest sense of loneliness that one could manage? It was almost exactly what the jaguar spotted stallion was going through now. Though his life was about to change dramatically, he didn’t know it and because of that he was always searching for new faces to fill his days and soothe that feeling of loneliness even if only for a few hours. You could say this is why he suddenly looked up to find himself in the Adoption Den. It was easily assumed that his subconscious had caused him to end up here.
The adoption den was one of the few places that most equines avoided during their lives. Growing up foals typically heard stories of how being naughty could end you up in this place of solitude and loneliness no longer wanted or returned for… From a child’s perspective, once a child had been left in the Den, those children usually never returned. In a young one’s mind, the stories and rumors that were created were that of extreme imagining. Stories of foals being fed to monsters, of the ghosts of the afterlife pulling their souls down below. Of cannibals searching for them in the night, hunting them like a delicious prey.
But once one grew and began to learn about the realities of the world, they learned that their stories were ridiculous. That the Den was simply created by the God’s in order to provide the children without a parent or parents an opportunity to be given a life with a family that would take care of them and help them to grow and survive. Yet typically the process was of mare’s making their way to the adoption den, searching and hoping to fill their hearts with the joy of motherhood not of stallion’s coming and searching for fatherhood. It wasn’t unheard of course, yet it was unusual. It took a special man to want to provide for a child on their own. Especially one that wasn’t even their own by blood.
These men were cherished by the world. Looked upon with more respect than most would have received for simply doing their duty to their family. So rare was it that a man took responsibility for a child on his own that wasn’t even his, that it tended to send a shock of surprise through those who heard of it. Comprehending such a thing tended to be difficult for the masses, and it was understandable. As the care of a child was seen in the old school manner. That it was a mother or female’s role to provide that care. But these are new times. And with new times came changes. No matter how surprising or unusual.
With slow steps, the winged stallion stepped through the trees and entered the adoption den, his empty eye sockets lacking the fire he had kept them filled with the past months. He used the sounds of the small birds chirping and the soft winds blowing through the tall golden wheat to lead him where he wanted to go. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat. The sense of nerves making his blood flow with intensity as it mixed with the fire within his veins. The act of adoption was one that made him nervous. Not only was it important to make the choice without a doubt in your mind, but adoption made a potential adoptive parent nervous beyond belief.
The worries of being accepted or rejected flowed through his mind, like it would anyone and his muscles tensed slightly, his skin pulling tight over his lean yet muscular frame. Slowly he walked, his ears flicking around every now at then at the soft sounds of the wind when finally, he heard the tiny sweet laughter of a child. He stops then standing straight and tall as his nostrils flared and he took a deep breath. The feeling of anxiety trembled through him from his hooves to the tips of his ears then, until another’s voice tripped through the air with a sort of kindness that he could have mistaken as his own.
It was this that made Demian’s lips twitch upwards in a sort of small smile as he listened to the conversation between the two. A small chuckle escaped his throat, slipping through his lips when he heard the child ask about the man’s height and stepping forward, he approached them slowly. “I have a feeling he was. Probably scared the right heck out of his dear ole mother.” He tilts his head towards the stallion and smirks a bit more. He doesn’t truly know how tall Offspring is. Not yet anyway. Yet he has no wish to reveal his ways of sight. Not now. For now, he wanted to be as normal as possible. “Offspring, Maribel. My name is Demian.”
What a strange event this was. Two stallions, one filly. If anyone were to bare witness it would be almost comical.
lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all. but lend me your heart and i'll just let you fall.
Fatherhood was something that he had once cherished. He savored the feel of their petal-soft kisses on his shoulders, of their gentle voices and the pure innocence that they exuded. It was an invigorating high in and of itself to see one's own progeny grow and develop physically and mentally; to see what pieces of one's own persona they obtain. It had been many, many years since he, himself, had that joy - but he had found something in place of it.
After being abruptly startled by a young colt mere weeks ago, he had found himself somehow entangled in a predicament he had not anticipated. The boy was a stubborn, fiery spitfire of constant fervor - and he had grown to enjoy his presence. Though he often asked too many questions (he lacked a filter, and saw right through him when he attempted to remain stoic and indifferent to his inquiries) and he had a tendency to use humor where it was inappropriate, he could not deny that the way the small boy nestled against him in the dead of night (summer was only a breath away - but the icy confines of the tundra were always chilling to the bone) warmed his heart in a way he had not experienced in many decades.
Though he did not often act as a father figure (Thaniel was too obstinate and steadfast), he took every opportunity to teach and nurture his understanding of the world around him. What had begun as a mild annoyance had come a warm, soothing companionship that dulled the ache of loneliness that he so often felt. As his crimson eyes study the fragile, beautiful features of the young filly before him, he can feel the same longing as he had with his own kindred.
He cannot hide his smile from her; his features softened as he lifts his head, watching as she brings herself closer to him. She is too young to know the danger of such a large creature, but old enough to be definitively curious and understanding of how unusual it was. He can feel her teeth gently brush against his pelt and a deep chuckle rumbles from deep within as he stares into her large, doe-eyed blue eyes. She reminded him of a daughter from long ago; and it drew him to her closer still.
Her soft, sinless words caused his shoulders to shake with quiet laughter, his tangled obsidian tresses lapping at his jawline as he shakes his head slightly. He pauses to respond, but grows tense - the muscles flexing beneath his taut skin as he casts a glance towards the source of noise that had suddenly appeared. He finds himself at ease soon, though - he studies the leopard-spotted male approach slowly; his muscles are lax and his demeanor is casual by far. He is still wary (he knows of him; he was like many others in appearance) but his wry smile and sharp remark cause him to roll his own eyes.
A comedian. How charming.
His lips pull up in a single corner; a smirk given as he observed the eyeless one. His broad, lustrous wings are something to envy and his markings are not only unusual, but visually appealing - but the dry, empty sockets of scar tissue that remain suggest an obvious lack of vision and he pauses for a moment to wonder how he might know of Offspring's height, or if he knows at all.
"You have no idea, Demian," He chuckles dryly, thinking of his mother's constant disdain for his presence, his appearance and his existence. She was more than likely more perturbed by him than frightened, but he would not discuss it aloud. He allowed those memories to remain buried and unshared; they did not need to come to the surface. There was no reason for it. "and what brings the King of the Valley here?" He muses softly, glancing for a moment to the young girl, who has since turned the same deep obsidian he himself was. He couldn't resist smiling again, brushing her soft shoulder with his muzzle. "When I was little, I was the very same size you are now - but when I got older, much older, I grew. Just like you will - but probably not as tall as me."
03-11-2016, 09:13 PM (This post was last modified: 03-11-2016, 09:21 PM by Maribel.)
i was born in the arms of imaginary friends,
free to roam; made a home out of everywhere i've been.
»«
The tiny girl likes making the big stallion smile. She knows this much for sure. The small head turns to see that of another stallion nearing the pair. Little limbs pivot the stubby frame as she listens to his words, not quite understanding what he meant but not really listening either. The spots on his coat were fascinating. "Ooo!" The delighted voice pipes as she nears Demian, eyes wide and big. The tiny muzzle reaches out to give his elbow a little bit of a nibble. "You taste like sunshine, Deminin." Sunshine pretty much equaled to good since sunshine is good and Maribel likes it...she's still working on her words too. Forgive her. Upon unsteady legs does the child attempt to rear up once she has noticed the wings on his back. How neat! Maribel firmly (and rudely) plants her fore hooves against the side of Demian to get a better look.
The small head swivels back to Offspring, giving him the biggest smile she can. She doesn't want him to leave her. She likes him and he tastes like starshine. Stars are pretty and twinkly. The petite crown looks back to Demian and her coat ripples to mimic the spotted male. A small giggle follows before she bounces back in a little skip to Offspring, little heels kicking out playfully as she pops like popcorn in a skillet. Maribel does not notice Demian is blind nor the fact he knew her name. When you are a child you take things at face value. Everyone in the world was your friend. All the trees and the butterflies and the flowers and the rocks and the bunnies...
Maribel finally gives a small shake and her skin fades away from the spotted form like a tiny Demian to her honey gold coat with the shockingly silver white hair. Big blue eyes look up at the tall, tall stallions, oblivious to the power they held. "Off-ping and Deminin. Deminin and Off-ping. Sunshine and starshine." The child sang as she bounces under the stallions in a playful weave.
Please stay and play wiff me, Off-ping and Deminin." Maribel stops to stand between the two, her voice shaking slightly with earnest desperation. The lovely cheer of her tiny voice now gone. The little girl did not want to be alone in the grass anymore. She likes her new friends, no matter how big or how spotted. If she could cling to both of them and wrap her little arms around their legs she would. The small chin trembles slightly and she runs to Offspring and rubs against his leg then does the same to Demian, her little heart pounding hard and fast in the small chest.
lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all. but lend me your heart and i'll just let you fall.
Filled with the inevitable warmth of her eager smile and sweet demeanor, he begins to feel himself unravel in her presence. He usually held on to his stoicism, preferring to err on the side of caution by presenting himself as a single, solitary layer with little emotion - but it was far from the reality of his personality. He observed her with newfound affection as she shook herself into a new exterior color of goldenrod and silvery tresses, and he surmised that must be her own original pelt. He presses the bridge of his nose to her shoulder as she swivels at his side, unable to hide the faint smile she'd elicited with her precious antics.
He had forgotten what it was like to be near such youth and it filled him to the brim with delight; something he had not felt in an immeasurably long time. He thought for a moment to Isle, his precious Isle, and what it might be like to have one of their own. Emotions stirred within the depths of his chest and his heart ached at the thought - his previous love had died in the birthing process, as did his son - but still, he longed for it. He pulls himself back into the moment as Maribel's gleeful tone suddenly changes and shifts into despair, his deep crimson eyes observing her.
Glancing to Demian for a long moment, he pauses. He knows of what is going on in the kingdoms - there have been rumors, of course, and the stallion looked weary and war torn with conflict. He suspects his reasoning for coming to the very same, unusual place he had was for the same reason - he needed a reminder of what life was, what life meant, and what it could mean. He leans down to brush his muzzle across the girl's small abdomen as she weaves herself around his leg, thinking of Isle once more and how she might react to the sweet girl. He speculates that she would be eager to adore her smother her with affections, and if she would not or could not, he would.
"Come home with me, Maribel," He murmurs gently and earnestly, his dark eyes meeting hers. "It will grow dark soon, and I think you might like where I live. There are a couple of other little ones like you to play with, and plenty of company."
If he were starshine to her, then she would be his sunshine.
