"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
06-18-2016, 03:50 PM (This post was last modified: 06-18-2016, 04:14 PM by Chemdog.)
The north calls to him today. He thought of going south, but nay, the north seems to have a pull tugging at him this morning. The sun has barely risen, just peeking into the darkness from behind it's jagged curtains. He seizes these quiet hours to move under it's dull light, stretching his body out first and then setting off at a limpy pace toward the frozen mountains beyond.
Maybe the boys of the Tundra knew something of healing, because this bum shoulder will not due for much longer. His patience is nearly gone with it and it prevents him from moving at anymore than an off-kilter jog. He finds it much too constraining for his liking.
So there he is, just limping along. It's early morning and the cold fog has yet to lift off of the lands. As he goes deeper into the mountains toward his destination, the land turns barren and the skies twist into grayness. There are valleys of green still, but it's much different than his volcanic home. Jagged rocks cut into the surface everywhere, some as big as a large hill, just stone and moss and tundra shrubs. He plods along until he finds a small river, stopping to have a drink and look around for anyone about.
chemdog
astra inclinant, sed non obligant.
literally anyone
obviously i'm begging for an Offy experience, but seriously anyone
i was born in the arms of imaginary friends,
free to roam; made a home out of everywhere i've been.
»«
The young mare finds the warmth of spring pulling her from her slumber. Despite the ice and snow that covered the Tundra most of the year, spring did have a means of penetrating the frozen kingdom. Maribel lifts herself from her bedding of pine needles to stretch and yawn and give her body a rather good shake. Her pelt is changed to camouflage her against the ground when she sleeps, a muddy brown with bits of green and gray but now that she is woke with blinking sky blue eyes, the murky colors give way to the typical golden honey that is her true form.
Not far off from her quiet place stands a dark male with white splattered across his hide. Mari, curious and without fear, moves towards the stallion. Her soft voice is tossed high as she greeted the ghost faces male. A curling smile plays on her lips, crinkling and creasing the edges of her eyes. "Hi!" The innocence from her childhood had never left her. "Welcome to the Tundra. Can I help you?" The soprano vocals inquiry as she closes the space between them when she extends her muzzle for greeting while still watching with large blue eyes.
07-17-2016, 12:31 PM (This post was last modified: 07-17-2016, 12:31 PM by Chemdog.)
Something golden saunters his way. Confidence, even if childish in a way, her bright innocent eyes almost glowing. Chem is caught by surprise – she's a she. His head quirks to the side, an involuntary gesture of puzzlement. She must be someone's daughter - oh shit. He fidgets immediately and can feel himself feeling out of place right away. This is unlike him. Woman are a comfort, a desire, a drug... normally boundaries hold no water with him, but this, a daughter of the bachelors. No. No no no. His throat clears and he straightens himself out, hiding any evidence of his uneasiness. His expression cold and flat, his tone the same, “Hello.” Silence lingers after he greets her, touching noses only briefly. His nostrils can't resist sucking in a deep breath to collect her sweet smell. He catches himself and steps backward, tail tossing anxiously. “Where is everyone?” He looks to each side of them, seeing no one in the open, his teal eyes settle back to the girl and her piercing blue gaze. “I'm from Volcanic Village; just came by to introduce meself, I suppose li'l lass.” He looks down at her and lets his eyes glide down her face and over the rest of her golden frame. Chemdog can hardly contain his primal nature.
07-17-2016, 04:07 PM (This post was last modified: 07-17-2016, 04:08 PM by Romek.)
He wakes up, his bones and muscles creaking from a night spent pacing. He could not explain why he couldn't sleep, not even if he tried. Whenever he shut his eyes, there were spirits behind his lids, dancing and talking and jeering at him. traitor is what they whispered to him, although their words weren't facts, and they had no ground in reality. That didn't make the least bit of difference to them, though, and they remained there, laughing and laughing and laughing until he was sufficiently roused from his restful state, and sent to patrol the unfamiliar wasteland that was to be his home. Or rather, that was his home. He wondered when it would start to feel comfortable to him.
His ears twitch at voices relatively nearby, by the meltwater river that he must've passed at least three times last night. He stood for a moment, weighing his options. He figured he could walk by them and see what was going on at least. The closer he got, the more familiar the voice seemed - until it clicked - it was Maribel, the woman who had brought him here, the one who had made him laugh. The other was an unfamiliar stallion and the spotted man frowned and tilted his head until they both came into view. Unsurprisingly, the man was a stranger to him, and from the smell of him, a stranger to Maribel too.
Now, he was more than aware that he was a newcomer here himself, and not the most useful in diplomacy (he doubted that many horses would appreciate his... unique...communication style), but he could at least fill the role of watchful guardian, of an extra number to boost appearances. Or something. Mostly he was just being nosy.
"Hello," he says, offering this greeting to both Maribel and the stranger. "I'm Romek."
The spotted stallion noted the way that the other's eyes slid over the woman's frame, and he frowned a little. He was no stranger to the breeding season, having weathered over thirty of them himself (and participating only once) - it was impending now. Some men got a little hoofsy with it all, and that was one of the things that the spotted stallion couldn't stand. And he'd hate to make a rash judgement but Maribel didn't seem quite... well, didn't seem the type for all that. And if the worst came to the worst....
He moves beside her and as much as he dislikes contact, he reaches over to touch his nose to her shoulder, before turning to look at the other stallion. He wanted very much to say something to him about his manners, respect etc etc. But that would probably not be a very good idea. So he held his tongue (even though it burned).
