"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
She is the last to arrive - orange eyes peering at the unfamiliar stallion - both of them. Eight stepped down and Thorunn felt her heart plunge. The entire reason she went to Tephra was to follow the last vestiges of what she knew from her childhood. The Valley was gone. Mom, Dad - dead. Twin? Who knew. She was alone with her scarred, broken face and now the semblance of a father figure she had slipped into oblivion.
Leaving behind this stallion.
She watched him parrot his masculinity in front of the crowd, calling them together for a meeting. Thorunn - in her short life - had seen multiple cases of this. Rise to power, claim changes, disappear. She was, frankly, bored of it.
So, with a shrug, she stands in the back, half hoping someone would start a fight, half hoping the meeting ended before dinner.
10-28-2016, 08:59 PM (This post was last modified: 10-29-2016, 06:38 PM by Rael Fire.)
The warrioress stepped up to speak after the others had their turn. "I am here. I will glady support the army lead, but I'll also serve under others, if they speak honest. I will protest against what is not best for the people of Tephra; nor am I afraid of the consequences." She speaks, the threat and her strong will laced among her message. She did not glance around nervously, but instead flicked an ear back to listen for approachers behind the group. She gave a short nod towards Magnus to show she had finished, respect and a fire in her eyes melding to show her strength and courage.
Inside, she was afraid of never seeing her brother, her friends again if she battled a ruler, but she would do it if it would be the best choice for Tephra's safety and balance. They had been in a dangerously calm lull after her change of the lands, Beqanna's stripping of magics from those who had any. Rael, herself, had never truly trusted magicians or witches, but she would stand beside them if they were for what was right, not what was best.
She snorted at the grey, here to challenge Magnus. Sighing, she doesn't say anything. She decided to hold her tongue on this subject, for once, rather than just shooting at her mouth. So, to compensate, she straightened her posture and stepped forwards, ready to join the fight if it came down to it.
"Let's not waste time dilly-dallying about chatting," Rael starts, after stepping forwards, a slight scorn in her voice. "I'd like to know what the plan is." She says after a small breath, her ears forward now, her eyes bright. She was honest; an unusual speaking trait for her - she tended to hold her tongue if it wasn't going to come across as something nice. But.. New land, new leadership, new self, she assumed with a small sigh.
OOC : Somebody got a bit sassy.. Hehe. She's right, though, she did mentally change when Beqanna mixed itself up.
“Stay.” It snaps like a branch brittled by winter; a bellow mutated into a whisper, slipping through her lips as she watches the congregation roil over her shoulder. (They are unnerved; they are like bone-dry kindling.) She can never be sure when she has gotten through to these girls. Still their eyes, bright and quizzical, are inscrutable to her more often than not. They are cryptic little things. Puckish. They look at each other and their blinks and winks speak conversations, to which she is simply not privy,
They flinch back when she hisses, their ears mirroring her own worried position.
They are smart enough to sense danger.
They have the Rabbit in them.
“I’ll be back,” she whispers, much more warmly, touching each in the center of their foreheads, whiffling softly. They stay. They stay for now, though she she can hear them whisper to each other and she knows they’ll crane their necks until sore.
She had come to hear Magnus, the girls trailing behind her hips like two errant sparks fizzing away, one of the last few to join the group that gathered by him.
Their leadership had thinned, she had heard.
They had to set out their vision, act on it. Solidify something...
When he trespassed, she turned and cowed the girls back. Away from the big grey and the uneasiness that he brought with him. Unease and arrogance, both.
She has seen this, time and time again; she has seen this take different forms – jungle gorillas pounding their strange, armoured chests; stags locking the tines of their antlers together; stallions trading teeth and hooves.
Displays.
But the grey had come with nobody. Perhaps, a poor display. Longear settled in, as unsure as she would have in her other body, bright-white rabbit’s tail up, ears jerking back and forth. In truth, she has so little use here. She is small, pony-ish, gripped with the flightiness that could not simply be ripped from her body and chained to a mountainside.
