"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 has never left the humid jungle, but with no mother to tell her no and the fresh tattoo of her allegiance on her chest she feels imbued with a new found confidence.
Lanky, but with the promise of eventual grace, the roan yearling makes her way through Beqanna until she reaches the Meadow. She does not physically stand out in the crowd; she lacks her mother’s distinctive spots and her father’s wings, but she has an effervescent curiosity in her expression and a bounce in her step that is undeniably noticeable even surrounded by others that are far more striking. She’s not pretty – she’s still a child – but perhaps someday she might be. Her green eyes are bright, fringed by thick black lashes and a heavy shield of raven black mane that contrasts sharply with the snow white blaze that splits her face. Though her mother’s bloodline is thick with warriors (and the feathering of Ephrelle’s white legs hint to that), she takes after her sleek golden father as well, resulting in a young horse that – despite her coloring – might be a sleek young Warlander.
Her social experience is limited to her mother, brother, and the women of the Jungle, but that does not show the young filly’s expression. She looks equally pleased and smiles freely at everyone she passes. Eventually she settles down beside the slow moving river, having chosen it as an acceptable place to wait and see if anyone wants to talk with her. She greets every passerby with a hello in the hopes that one might slow to chat, but is not disheartened when a few do pass on by.
As had often become the case, Wichita was left to her own devices to amuse herself. Truth be told it had made her a bit lonely, this time spent wandering the terrain of the Gates. It was so different here, so small for lack of better words to describe how she felt.
She did what she could to entertain herself, exploring and learning her new home and what it had encompassed. Today she decided to branch a bit farther, and thus did she make an appearance in the meadow. A place, she was told, was free from reign. It was really unextraordinary she thought as she made the short trip from the Gates to the gathering place. Luckily it wasn't really that far, so she didn't regret her decision to broaden her surroundings.
She was surprised to hear a pleasant voice meet her auds as she passed the river. A young female stood there alone, offering greetings to each passer by. Wichita whickered lightly as her own acknowledgement was received, giving a broad smile. This was something new, before her the yearling was adorned with the strangest thing. A marking. She had never seen the likes of it in her short life, but was of course curious. "Howdy, it's nice ta meet ya,"she nodded her dial in enthusiasm."I'm Wichita, what parts are you wandering from?"She perhaps was a bit overwhelming, being oddly close to a complete stranger.
The strangers continue to pass her by, but finally one does stop. Ephrelle greets the silver dapple mare with a bright smile and replies excitedly that “It’s nice to meet you too! I’m Ephrelle.” The mare’s voice has an unfamiliar sound to it, one that the yearling has never heard before. Then again, she thinks to herself, it’s not like she has met terribly many new people.
“I’m from the Jungle,” replies the black and white filly ,not at all discomforted by being close to someone that she does not know. Ephrelle shared a womb with her twin for nearly a year and has always been slightly more comfortable than usual with physical proximity. “I’m an Amazon,” she adds, gesturing to the tattoo that winds its way up her leg and onto her chest, in case the mare had missed it. “What about you? Where are you from?”
Wichita was pleased that the filly did not balk at her hovering. She seemed to not be bothered at all by it,on the contrary, she appears glad to have company. This was fortunate, as she herself felt she could use a little company today. Liquid pools swim down the length of this young one called Ephrelle , at her motions to the design that had so intrigued Wichita. A beautiful vine and blossom trailing up the chest, the colors vivid and lifelike. The mark itself gave Wichita the feeling that it was a living thing in itself, a consciousness emanated from it."Well now, that's quite lovely", she complemented the design. She had never seen such a thing before, and wondered what had caused such an anomaly. She herself only had scattered scars to adorn her pelt, and their presence courtesy of her unpleasant father.
From the "Jungle" the filly had said, and she thought she heard "Amazon" as well. Had she? What did that even mean? The silver black mare was young in years and had lived a sheltered existence, lacking knowledge of all things she found interesting in her new home. "What 'xactly is a Amazon?", she drawled, giving the other a quizzical look. Such funny, wonderful things she had learned of and discovered here,but not yet this. Actually this was her first trip outside of the Gates since arriving, what luck she had to learn something new.
“Thank you,” Ehprelle replies, smiling. She tilts her head to get a better look at the tattoo herself. The bumblebee emerges from the heart of the flower as she watches, and Ephrelle laughs a little, quietly. She cannot feel the little legs or the thrumming of its wings, but she imagines they’d tickle if she could. Ephrelle does her best to stand still and let the other mare look more closely, but when Wichita pulls back, Ephrelle straightens up to get more comfortable.
When Wichita asks what an Amazon is, Ephrelle frowns. It’s not in displeasure, just confusion. How can someone not know what an Amazon is? Doesn’t everyone? Oh, she thinks, perhaps Wichita is not from Beqanna. That would explain her strange way of talking, at least, and also her fascination at Ephrelle’s tattoos.
“An Amazon is a mare that lives in the Jungle, down south. We are part of a sisterhood, and when we swear our loyalty we receive these tattoos as proof of our service.” That seems a good enough way to explain it, she decides. Well, perhaps she should just explain everything. “If we ever leave the Jungle, or betray the sisterhood, we lose our tattoos. There’s a red slash mark – ‘the traitors mark’ – that appears instead. I don’t think many sisters leave; it’s a wonderful kingdom. I’ve lived there my whole life!” Her excitement in the last phrase is obvious. She might not yet be two years old, but she’s already quite sure what she wants to do with the rest of her life. She’d sworn herself to the Jungle at only six months old, and has no intention of ever leaving. “Where do you live?”
She watches as a small bumblebee emerges from the flower, making its way across the fillies pelt. Wow, she thinks, that sure is somethin'. It's lifelike, the little creature, the wings rapidly beating, carrying it across its backdrop. The faintest of laughs is heard from the varnished femme, and she wonders if the other can feel the creature as well?"Does it tickle?", she inquires with a curious glance. That was an exciting new thing to see, Wichita wondered what other visions might crawl across the canvas of...Amazons was it? Yes, she was sure thats what Ephrelle had called them, a herd of mares only. A sisterhood, she learned, and you got a fancy moving tattoo, unless were a traitor. This was a new concept to Wichita, a mares only herd, but not an unwelcome one. She found it pretty interesting actually, and thought it was a place she might not mind visiting. She had just recently caste herself into the speakers for the Gates, and had yet ventured outside their borders. Perhaps this was something she could put on her to-do, she would need to make herself useful after all. Besides, she had really been sold on the idea. The other had been so enthusiastic that it inspired excitement in Wichita as well, she would be looking forward to that trip. Chocolate oculars lighting up as she took in the information, and a small smile danced across her lips.
Soon, it was her turn to answer questions.
"Oh, well I'm from the Gates. They call it Heavens Gates ya know? It sure is purty, and it has the most wonderful, delicious patches of clover!"She was sure to express that fact, it wasn't every place that had such rich foods. At least, not in her experience."We have a Queen and a King, and a Mother Tree."she replied proudly. They had just recently crowned their new rulers as a matter of fact. A painted mare named Fiasko, and a kind grey stallion named Mast."It aint too far from here actually, just past the hills. Kinda lonely though, when everyone is busy, so I thought how about a trip to the meadow?" blinking, she paused.
"It's my first time leaving the border,"she whispered shortly after, her right hoof raking gently at the earth in her embarrassment.
