"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
Pale feathers floated to the ground, dun colored skin stretching tightly over muscle with each labored breath she took. The mare was in bad shape. Never in her life had Tarvelie been so unappealing to look at, she had always been rather nice looking. Wings that stretched into beautiful sails, eyes that mirrored the emerald hills she walked upon, and a smile that gave the sun a run for its money. But now she was weak, pacing antsily in a circle. Tarvelie felt trapped without the ability to fly, and there was no way her wings would be fixed anytime soon. She knew this, and she hated herself for letting it get this way. Simple exploration turned into a downword spiral of fights she couldnt win, days of being lost and confused, and the yearning to return home. Though now she was here, and didnt quite know what it was she wished for now. Rest? Asylum? Help... No. No she could do this on her own. Dark ears flattened against her matted mane, eyes blazing with new life. For she was in a new place, and could try to start again.
He can not recall the last time he ever set foot in the field. It had been ages but he had promised Nayl that he would be around more, do more for Nerine. This was a step in the right direction despite socialization not being one of his strongest points.
A mare draped with dun and tan is easily separated by his silver eyes. She held a pair of crumpled wings against her spine. Lior's own leathery pair pinned closed as he preferred the feel of the solid ground under his hooves. The dragon man did not need to display anymore than the darkness of his skin and the mercury filled eyes to demonstrate his strength. The finely feathered feet move him to near the woman, eyeing her as his lips flatten, studying her as creases furrow his brow. He is working to remember how this should all go.
"You...mare." The voice crawls like grinding rocks beneath the ocean floor. He stops as he knows she will acknowledge him unless she is deaf. Lior stands dark and tall like a thunderhead as the cool spring air attempts to lift the tangle of his mane. If she should decide to lash out, well he was not opposed to simply moving on. Nerine did not want for anything and would not suffer at loss of a potential member. Nayl had seen to that.
"You are here clearly. You must be in need of a residence. Nerine could accommodate you." The heavy dark male does not offer his name for it is only a title and would be lost one day in the centuries to come. He can feel the seconds tick like granules in an hourglass. He is not comfortable away from the salt shores of his home but would live up to his word and attempt to offer solace to the lone soul.
Was it to much to be left alone? Tarvelie snorted, eyes flicking to the dark mass before her. He was a handsome stag, dark with an outstretch of leathery wings. Her own battered sails fluttered at the sight. He then spoke, voice low as he offered her a place to stay. Nerine? Her heart jumped, she had just told herself this journey would be best taken alone! Though possibly within a kingdoms walls she would be safer... It was possible that the protection of the lands borders would quell her anxiety. Even just a bit of it. Though she was a skeleton reborn, battered, and worn, her steps toward him were graceful. A calming power in the movement. "And what is this Nerine like?" She countered, eyes rolling over his expanse of flesh and muscle. Once she mirrored him, young and strong, powerful in her walk. Though her heart remained in the days of strong legs and road hungry muscles, her body was so freverently stuck in this dead state. She strived to be beautiful once more, graceful and ever so terrifyingly powerful looking. That was who she was. Not this beaten down version of herself she wore now. No, she was going to fix this.
Lior stands paitently waiting for ehr reply. She is a sorry looking creature, beaten down by the world's disappointment and failed heartfelt incantations. Lior is not a stranger to such things and so there is an essence of sympathy that lay deep inside the inky chest but he mourns for the childhood lost not the dun before him. The tall man rests with a look of placid solitude across his feature till he catches the tangle of world. "Nerine is led by Nayl and home to many horses. She built the land herself." Lior would always give the painted queen the credit she deserved.
He shifts his weight, the large shoulders rolling as pewter eyes glance around him. The sound of newly birthed foals makes him think of his own children and wanting to return to Nerine after this conversation proved it's outcome. 'You are welcome to form your own opinions." He adds with a slight tip of his head with features remaining undisturbed. As the mare approaches Lior remains rooted. he did not care for the closeness of the approach but would allow it for the time being. The large male stiffens slightly, the muscle in his jaw tightening in response.
She sensed his unease, and pulled away from him. He spoke of a queen, one who built her kingdom. Tar could not deny the respect she held for the unknown woman. Yes, this could be the place she built herself again. Her opinion was strongly formed, steady and loud. "Yes I will go to this Nerine." There was nothing more for her to say, she was to simply wait for him to lead the way. Large wings unfurled painfully, stretching before settling back at her sides once more. It was a wave of emotion to pull them out and not have them pull her into the sky. Her stature straightened, head raising. Despite her low resting heart, she held grace. Scary as that grace may be.
![[Image: tarvelie_by_voltum-dbhxuco.png]](http://orig03.deviantart.net/733c/f/2017/208/0/b/tarvelie_by_voltum-dbhxuco.png)
