"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
09-04-2016, 03:54 PM (This post was last modified: 09-04-2016, 09:57 PM by demian.)
" I'll never lose sight , "
"At this point, what have I got to lose?” It is a statement that makes him think before silently following. In many ways she wasn't wrong. They were all at a point where they had nothing and in turn nothing to lose. Though being at the very bottom one could be meant that the only direction they all had to go was up.
It was common sense to think that there had to be something out there. Something that Beqanna meant for them to find. The mists that surrounded the neutral lands was eerie and threatening to most that laid eyes on it, yet it beckoned to them all, even those who could not see. It was as though it was saying "Come now, pull open the door and look inside." And to be honest it was something that was quite difficult to ignore.
In all reality they were curious and many had already set off in the direction of the mists, eager to find out what lay behind it, waiting to be discovered. For a while he walks beside her, easily matching her pace with his long muscular legs. He can sense the confidence that lay behind her silence and like her, he could tell that she had more to her than one would first assume. Like her, he had known Eight well. The magician had once handed him the throne in the Valley in a show of support and ever since Demian had had the highest respect for the dark king.
The two had worked together to form a growing kingdom, that was until the war came. It was then they had all gathered together to replace leaderships and to protect future bloodlines. You could say it had been an interesting twist and before the changes Demian had watched Eight grow even more and retake his throne beside Topsail, the one he had so delicately picked to take his place.
She had been a mare that he had full confidence in. Her blood coming from the Gates was another interesting twist to the Valley throne. For a Gates princess stepping on as queen was rarely heard of, if ever and yet Demian had somehow known she would do just fine. It was when they reached the forest surrounding the meadow that Demian stopped for a moment, his weight shifting slightly from side to side. "It's interesting," his voice is relaxed as it slips through his lips and he steps forward once more. "How changes like these can bring those together who would probably never have met otherwise." Lips turning upwards slightly, he allows himself to smile, carefully stepping so as not to trip over any fallen branches or large rocks.
He walks now in silence, letting her muse over the simple thought before suddenly stopping once more. The fluid sound of a male's voice has caught his attention and quickly his head turns, his ears pricked straight before he begins to move forward. "I think I have found him," moving into a gentle trot, he eagerly makes his way towards the voice, coming to a stop before the large stallion. "Romek, It has been quite a while." He turns his head towards the sound of Reagan's hoofbeats. "This is Reagan, I found her in the field and asked her to follow me around and I'm surprised she did, you know, without my eyes and all." If he could of winked at this point he would have and a small chuckle follows soon after before he turns back to face the other. "How are you dealing with the changes?"
DEMIAN ( carnage x adalind )
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Romek had made the mistake of thinking once that things could not get any worse. And, naturally, he had been proven wrong. Things could always get worse, and usually, they did. It was better not to tempt fate, and to lay your plans as securely as you would lay down on the ground at night.
And, of course, those mists beyond the neutral lands held no particular wonder for him. He had no interest in much else other than finding his wife, and bringing her back to him. Perhaps eventually they would need a home to live in, somewhere safe, and secure, away from all this chaos, panic and placeless anger. It was no place for his newborn children, and no place for his elder ones, either. He wondered how he would be able to keep it all together. Something would drop, he only had a set amount of … hooves.
But, of course, sometimes things just fall into your lap. A familiar voice draws his attention, so he disengages from the mare in front of him (he had merely been asking her if she had seen a pretty golden mare, about this tall, which a gigantic moonlike belly – she hadn’t) to face the man.
Man – and woman. The mare unfamiliar to him, which was welcome, given the tricky history he has had with the Valley. ”Demian. A pleasure.” he says courteously, dipping his head. Their friendship is one that stretches back far, back when he had briefly toyed with the idea of joining the Valley under his rule – but had decided, eventually, that it was all too much, that it was too close, that he couldn’t abide living near his mother’s grave, where she had taken her last breath, bled her last drop.
”Well, you know what they say about the blind leading. Your lady does not seem quite sightless enough, though.” he says, inclining his head to the mare behind him. It was a weak joke, even by his standards, but he had been up half the night looking for his love. ”Reagan.”
His attention snaps back to the stallion at his question, and the spotted stallion takes his time considering it. ”Taking it as it comes, mostly. Searching for my lady wife. Trying to piece together what to do next. Though my situation is not a unique one, I know.” he pauses, and a faint, sly smile spreads across his lips. ”What do you need me for?”
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
It was no secret that Reagan had followed Demian simply because it astounded her that he could see his way around, even without the use of his eyes. Such power and affinity to the land was rare, and it was good to place herself with the right kind of power, even when she thought perhaps that there would be no place for her and her abilities—granted should she ever be able to get them back. She sighed, following Demian from the fields and back into the meadow—a place she had made her home, of late—and raised her eyes with mild surprise when Demian not only found his way (presumably by scent alone) to someone who would prove to be a friend; someone the stallion knew.
This new gentleman looked quite agitated, as if he was looking for something—or someone—and then it is revealed that he is looking for a woman. She wuffed silently, as if waiting to be acknowledged. However, beyond her name, she was not specifically addressed. Taking time to look around the meadow at the inhabitants looking for their loved ones and family, she wondered if there was anyone here who still remembered her for who she was, and although she thought she caught the vague stench of her son—and other assorted family nearby—she was not given too long before a beat in the conversation left her room to speak. “We need a home. Some place to settle so that the little ones being born now are not exposed to the elements and made prey. My own daughter is about—somewhere—but can you imagine what could happen to them without the aid of our abilities to protect them and keep them safe?” She looked Romek square in the eye, her voice thick with Irish brogue as she addressed him solely. “You say you are looking for your woman. Is she perchance also expecting a child? Will you do what you can to help protect him from the elements of being here? On the open Meadow?”
She looked down to relieve an itch on her barreled chest. “I am tired of not being as my old self. And I am tired of the fairies playing with us as if we were puppets on strings. If my magic fails me, I must do what I can to get it back. Is that not why you brought me with you, Demian? To help you?”
He felt the presence within him like a powerful magic even the fairy Mother could not revoke. It ebbed with its own life, foreign to his own spirit but so much a part of him. It was just a small permanent thread of its parent body, the latter a gravitational beacon pulling him, guiding him. Should he close his eyes in the darkest night, he would still see it burning and lighting the world with its sacred presence, Polaris to a wayward sailor.
Galloping on air currents, his body angled to it naturally as if of its own accord. Borrowed -or more like forcefully loaned- wings beat with the ease as one born with them. The great Fairy had seen fit to thrust them upon him despite his protests, claiming he would need them. He had no inkling of what She had in store for his future, but he could not deny the swift aid they had provided him thus far.
Within the sorrowful mingling of others on the earth below him, the light in his soul flared. He made no attempt at stealth, as he landed solidly within a group of three; a mare and two stallions. Pale wings stretched a final time before folding in over his plum-colored appaloosa print. His coal-black face was a mask as he calmly edged in at the side of the celestial deity they had called Reagan. She seemed almost dismissed in their presence, and he watched them warily. Did they not feel the raw power radiating from her even without her link to the magic?
The light of his supernal spirit intensified in response to hers. "I am Ruan," he introduced simply with a nod to each male.
He thought he might recognize one of the stallions, but wasn't sure. In his last home he'd spent all his time on the border, living among the valley wolves like an adopted family and watching over the young boy Kilter from a distance. He hoped the kid was well in this mayhem.
