"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
04-18-2018, 10:09 PM (This post was last modified: 04-18-2018, 10:16 PM by Jesper.)
Light blue gaze hardens as onyx-hued stallion resolves himself to his assigned mission. Jesper is far from excited to return to the evil-harboring woods. Poll and nape toss to cast tangled locks from one side to the other and, out of line of vision. Glossy pools soon catch the boldly spotted mare named Mosrael. It does not take long for solid ebony equine to recognize the dame as his teammate in the Beqanna games. A soft smile and, a bob of his poll are offered in way of a greeting. Jesper then offers a few words in a soft tone. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Chassis pivots to face southeast before muscled haunches engage to push male into a purposeful pace.
Mosrael’s body language suggests she is unsure of what to think, let alone say. So, the typically loquacious male strides silently towards Sylva. Unshod keratin support refined pillars as Jesper leads the way. To be honest, he did not know what to say, either. He feels relief that his grandsire is accepted, without many grievances. He feels pride in knowing that he could be part of the bigger picture and, for the right reasons. He worries about the safety of Sabra and Lavendel. He thinks of them constantly and, hopes to cross paths with both, soon. One bronze-tipped lobe casually focuses on his partner (ready and, willing to hang on her every word) while other actively searches the area. Every single sound echoes within ear canal and, Jesper processes each one carefully. The white, sands of Ischia give way to the fertile soil of the River and then, the rolling, rocky land of Loess. Cobalt stallion hugs the coastal border until Sylva’s permanent copper canopy comes into focus.
Sensitive olfactory sense detects the pungency emanating from the forest and, upper labrum curls upwards in detest. Nevertheless, forward march carries male confidently over the border and, into the cloak of darkness. Since his departure, the canopy seems to keep out more light and, a suffocating fog hovers at their ankles. Only a few paces inside the forest and, male aligns his limbs into a square halt. Poll remains high while senses cue up to high alert. The clown is sure to be lurking amongst the shadows and, Jesper was adamant about accomplishing their intended task. He need not call out to Morty as, he was sure the little punk would be gleeful upon finding his familiar cologne on his radar.
I have spent most of my time in the center of the kingdom, sheltering in the thick brush that edges the infrequent meadows. There is little to do in this quiet kingdom, and I have found that keeping to myself is preferable to interacting with the odd sort of equines that call this place home. I'm not yet sure if I'd call them evil, though I've certainly begun to suspect that they are more than a bit unbalanced.
This autumn morning though, something is in the air. Perhaps its the crisp of the oncoming winter or that way that all of Beqanna has shifted to match the copper and gold hue of Sylva's canopy. I've been awake since dawn, and as I begin to pick my way through the shadowy forest, the last hints of sleepines leaves my blue grey eyes.
I am not wandering long before I come across an unfamiliar scent, and I fall still lest the stranger spot me before I locate them.
There, through the trees - a pair of horses. The closest is a black stallion, his mane and tail streaked with bronze. Beside him is a spotted bay mare, equally accented in her unnaturally purple spots. They make me feel a bit less conspicuous with my own navy markings, and so I step out to meet them.
They've not called for anyone, but they are not Sylvan, and so I can only assume they are diplomats. I'm unsure from which land they hail, but I offer them a friendly smile anyway, and a small dip of my head. Old habits die hard (especially when I've made no attempt at all to quash them) and my bearing is that of the young queen I was and not the captive gift that I have so recently become.
"Hello," I say, glancing from one to the other. "What brings you to Sylva?"
It felt good to leave Ischia, even despite the danger to their mission. Upon it’s inception and assignment, the journey to Sylva had almost felt like an insult. A waste of her talents. Mosrael was better suited for war, not idle chatter. The deeper they traveled, however, her father’s reasonings for sending her along became clear.
Whispers filled the autumnal forest and a looming uncertainty wrapped around them from the moment they stepped within it’s fold. The passing of the crown seemed to shock even the oldest of the trees. Beside her, Jesper is tense. He is one of her many nephews, she knows – though, by whom she is unsure. They had competed together in the games held by Nike, only, then, she hadn’t realized their familial ties.
Despite his youth, the black and bronze stallion pressed confidently forward as he slinked through the tangle of trees as stealthy as a fox. His bronze tipped ears were on alert as they moved, Mosrael bringing up the rear in case of a potential ambush. She was unsure of the black colts abilities when it came to combat, but she was prepared to defend him regardless.
A quiet soon settled over them and Mosrael’s footfalls faltered, her ears trained to the surrounding ambiance. There was a shifting in the trees not caused by a breath of wind.
“Jesper,” She hissed in his direction as her eyes continued to scan their surroundings. “We are not alone in these woods.”
Almost as quickly as her words had left the velvet of her lips, did the sight of a small perlino and navy filly gain her attention. She saw them too and wasted very little time on breaking through the golden foliage to greet them. Mosrael recognized her immediately as Lepis, the dethroned princess of Loess. It was hard to pity the child in her foolishness, even though it was painfully clear that her existence there was one meant for strategical benefit only.
She was a hostage. A bargaining tool. Mosrael harbored no sentiment towards the foolish child.
Lepis’ cheerful greeting, despite Mosrael’s dark thoughts towards her, catches her attention. Still standing to Jesper’s rear, she allows him to take the lead – keeping her silence steady.
@[Jesper] and @[Lepis] Sorry, she isn't exactly the fluffiest feather in the bunch...
Modicum Mortem knows what goes on in his woods. He has mastered the art of stealth over the years - a once clumsy, noisy child has turned into a sneaking, silent hunter. A snake, slithering unknown through the Sylvan forest.
The two diplomats had come to the heart of Sylva, one in front of the other. Mortem has heard them, and he weaved through the blood stained tree trunks and fallen autumn leaves until he found them. His eyebrow had raised curiously - he recognized the stallion as one who used to live here. The other was unfamiliar, but it didn’t seem to matter.
Just as he was about to reveal himself, Lepis is approaching them. His body stays still, assessing what he should decide to do in this particular situation.
The clown king decides to wait. To see what his prize from the treaty would do, what she would say. Let’s see if her upbringing could come in handy.
Jesper does not fear what lurks in the darkness of Sylva. Fixated lobe catches Mosrael’s hushed warning and, icy blue gaze hardens as steed scans the depth of their surroundings. Before long, a satiny cream figure, with navy points, steps into the soft light. Her features display the softness of innocence and, Jesper relaxes his façade to offer a welcoming smile. Poll dips, as the young female does, before both bronze-tipped lobes swivel forwards to catch her diplomatic question.
Before the jet-black stallion can find his voice and organize his words, the familiar musk of Morty invades his nostrils. He snorts softly and, shakes his skull, all while focus remains on the polite maiden. Cranium lowers a bit from previously offensive post as he remembers what his grandsire had said. Tell them our news but, offer little. Find out what is going on. Be polite. Jesper gathers his words and, speaks in a gentle tone. “Hello, Miss. My name is Jesper. We have traveled from Ischia. We have come, as a courtesy, to deliver the news of her change in leadership. Are you familiar with any of the ranking officials? Or, whom we should address?”
Raven stallion decided to pry into this young lady as, he got the feeling the rest of Sylva would not feel like sharing. Ceil blue gaze respectfully holds the perlino’s slate gaze. Jesper takes easy breaths as he waits with patience. All the while, ebony equine remains vigilant that the clown lies in wait.
04-21-2018, 04:32 PM (This post was last modified: 04-22-2018, 01:08 PM by Lepis.)
Until the arrival of Arthas, my time had been divided into three categories: alone, with Mother, or with Uncle Castile. Breifly there was some overlap in the latter tow categories, and sometimes I played near enough to Kuma, Imperial, and their children to almost be considered spending time with them, but those times were few and far between.
It wouldn't surprise me to know that the rest of Beqanna was aware that Loess was ruled by a child, but while they might know me by name I am at least anonymous in my appearance. Anonymous in my current situation as well; I only know that I am a peace offering between the kingdoms of Sylva and Loess. No one else could possibly know otherwise, except perhaps the kings involved, and they are likely to keep their council to themselves.
The spotted mare does not answer me, but rather allows the black horse to take the lead. Recognizing what appears to be deference, I too focus on the bronze-haired stallion. He seems more agreeable to conversation, though I do cast once more glance make to the purple spotted mare, wondering why a kingdom would send a diplomat who did not want to take much.
"Hello Jesper," I reply, offering him the gracious smile that Mother had made sure that I perfected. Is is accompanied by another skill learned from Mother, the addition of the emotion of being welcomed, so slight as to be imperceptible. That is the way others are most comfortable with my gift, I've learned, when it is so gentle that it seems like a creation of their own minds.
He mentions a change in leadership in Ischia, and I recall the grey stallion that had brought me gifts from the sandy kingdom. "Krone isn't queen anymore?" I inquire, my soft eyes curious. But he has mentioned ranking officials, asking if i am familiar with them the way one might ask a silly child.
Well, I remind myself, that's what I had been until Arthas had seen something more in me. It's up to me to prove to the world that I am something more. Perhaps I should start by making sure they know who I am, and what I'm doing here.
"Modicum Mortem is our king," I say, careful to say his name as though I am proud of him rather than unsure if he wants to devour me when we are alone. "Would you like me to find him for you?" I offer this even though the wind has shifted, letting me know that he is closer than I had thought.
Perhaps this will prove something to him as well, I think. Perhaps he will find that having a polite, well-bred princess greeting diplomats might offer his evil kingdom a sort of protection that popping up on them and laughing maniacally from the shadows never will.
ooc edit: to clarify, Lepis has purposefully not introduced herself, and no one but she, morty, and arthas know who she is or why she is in Sylva. Her presence as a “captive” and even as the former queen of loess is a secret that no one should know about without having been told IC
She is surrounded by the young. Jesper, though he carries himself well, still has the inexperience and naivety of youth still clung to his skin. As the two young horses conversed, Mosrael cared little for their differed glances and misguided assumptions. She’d made no claims of being a diplomat, Jesper knew that she was sent with him as an escort. For his protection.
It was better that the stranger Lepis didn’t know the truth of her identity. The forest around them seethed with dark energy and an unfriendliness that reached deep within the depths of her. She was a daughter of Brennen, and this was not the Sylva that she’d come to expect.
Jesper sounded just as unsure as Mosrael felt as she kept her gaze pinned towards the shadows. For a moment, she imagined that she heard another heart beating besides the three that had found each other. Lepis’ eyes flutter over Mosrael’s studious form and the older mare barely noticed the child’s spark of confusion. For once, she was glad that she didn’t bother herself over the opinions of others.
Her ears tilted, however, at the sound of the filly’s mirrored confusion. Mosrael rolled her eyes towards the two young horses and exhaled deeply.
“Krone has been overthrown by the stallion Brennen,” Mosrael broke her silence, wishing to move the conversation along. “He has sent us here to investigate the mutterings we have heard of your new leader and the changes he has brought upon Sylva. If you are acquainted with someone who can better help to answer our questions, we would be indebted to you, Lepis.”
Mosrael didn’t bother with titles, there was no point in dubbing the forgotten princess anything other than what she was. A prisoner. They would have to tread likely to ensure that they did not face a similar fate.
OOC: Again, not super fluffy... @[Jesper] @[Lepis] @[Modicum Mortem]
There is little Modicum Mortem has to say to the two strangers from Ischia. He knew nothing of the pathetic island other than what he’d seen while he was spying on the mare they called Jah-Lilah for the Wraith.
So what if the bitch had been overthrown and a stallion took her place? Brennen had about as much right to send his sperm army here as Gryffen had to abandon Sylva. The less they knew of the autumnal forest the better.
He continues to be a stark shadow, listening in on the conversation. Keep Lepis at the foreground of diplomatic conversations, the less questions there would be, the more time Mortem would have to plan the darkness he wanted to spread over Beqanna. He wouldn’t have to wait long (the alliance with Loess was going well, their kingdoms were growing). The clown had a few tricks up his sleeves yet.
So Lepis did have use to him, to Arthas. She could keep the other kingdom’s minds at ease. Keep them from wondering what evil lurks beneath the golden canopy. Good, The king thinks to himself, that damn grin spreading across his face like a plague. Let them wonder.
Bronze-tipped lobes focus upon the buttermilk filly and, note her sideways glances at the violet-spotted mare at his flank. Let her think what she will. All that matters is that Mosrael stands beside me. Jesper listens carefully as the young lady welcomes him but, does not offer her name. He thought that to be slightly bizarre for a maiden raised with her etiquette and manners; however, he figured their description of her would be enough to jog Brennen’s recollections. Alas, she questions about Krone and then, offers the clown’s name as their leader. All things I know already. Raven stallion readies himself to reply but, his comrade steps forward and speaks up first. Opened maw closes as Jesper resolves himself to listening once again. Poll nods in agreement until the eerie silence of Sylva envelops them once more.
Sensing that this conversation was at a standstill with the navy-pointed damsel, Jesper decides he should accept her offer. And then, his mind wanders to their options if she is successful in convincing Morty to join them. The raven steed ponders how to make the clown squeal. Perhaps, if the rest of his cohorts felt their king as threatened, they would run to his aid. For a moment, Jesper wonders and then, he chuckles silently to himself. That manner of thinking would require some form of collaboration amongst corrupt souls and, he knew such a relationship to be non-existent. Sylva was comprised of narcissistic men bonded only by their fondness for immoral behavior. Option number two would be to stick to the diplomatic tone and, request a tour of the new Sylva; prey on the clown’s pride and, bask in it with him. The third option involves Jesper volunteering himself as a prisoner. Alas, Mosrael probably would not let that fly.
Jesper finds his words and, speaks in smooth voice that betrays neither his brainstorming, nor his frustration. Onyx steed addresses the young lady directly to politely reply to her offer. “We would be very grateful if your king would spare us a few minutes of his time. Could you please ask him to join us?”
Overthrown, barks the violet mare, her reluctance to join the conversation a marked counterpoint to Jesper’s smooth diplomacy. He had mentioned a change in leadership only; had said this visit is a courtesy.
That is to be expected, Lepis thinks, that’s not at all abnormal.
But the spotted mare speaks up again, mentioning an investigation, an inspection of changes wrought upon a kingdom. I am not pleased with this news, mostly for the knowledge of the reaction it might bring about in the king. He would be...displeased.
Mosreal says they need answers, and Jesper says they need the king. Having turned to lead them deeper into the kingdom in search of our monarch, I pause with one hoof still raised to glance back. I envy the handsome bronze haired stallion; he seems so easily able to hide his emotions.
My own voice quavers as I begin to speak, but the words grow stronger.
”Perhaps you could ask me your questions.” I say. ”I will answer them as best I can, and if I cannot, we will continue to search for His Majesty. But I might be more help than you seem to think.” I glance at Mosrael as I say this, she who has insinuated twice that I am not who they are looking for in a manner that is not especially inspiring.
Jesper
