"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
Doing what was lawful did not always coincide with doing what the heart desires.
He felt this, as he led Karat tearfully away from her brother, her blood. An aching that would never quite go away, and he knows this first hand; he hasn’t seen his family in many moons.
Father, dead. Mother, vanished. The brother he’d met briefly, gone with her. It never got easier. And on nights he was alone, he wished he was a foal again, curled up between his mother and father beneath the thicker of trees.
They arrive on the beach just before dawn, crossing the land bridge while Trekori flew. He would have to stay for a while for low tide to come again, so he decides to enjoy the scenery for a moment.
It doesn’t feel much different than Tephra, but the view is foreign. Towering palms and parrots calling their morning songs, no wonder so many people have chosen to live here as of late. He turns to Karat, sighing.
“I’m sorry, Karat,” He repeats again, as if this time it’ll garner more response. “Please talk to me. I’m sorry, I know how hard this is.” The emotional damage she has faced at the hands of Kori he isn’t aware of, only of the absence of her family.
06-02-2018, 07:43 PM (This post was last modified: 06-02-2018, 08:23 PM by Karat.)
Karat
Blood is Thicker than Water
Her very cores wants nothing more than to strangle the colt who had forced her from her home in the first place. Hath no fury like a woman scorned, as the saying goes, but she resists violence. Turning to her brother once more with pleading eyes. Begging him to take her away. He doesn't, or can't, whichever you prefer, and she is forced to look to the fire armored stallion of her homeland. Defeat finds her and she trudges onward owards her birth home. It was nothing more than a prison now...
She only mildly considers Trekori's position. Chances are he would be disappearing again anyhow. Why bother keeping track? Her thoughts are bitter as they cross the land bridge, her and... His name escapes her memory. She has only seen him once before and in passing. The fire that licked across his figure was captivating and mostly unforgettable.
Becoming still along the beach, she looks across the vast water towards Tephra. The sun was just breaking the horizon as the waves lip at her heels. It isn't his voice or pleading that cause her to remove her gaze from the skyline. It is the chill of the water that prompts her to turn and look to the stallion, "You mind?" She motions at his armor with the insinuation that she borrow his ability. Having caste her forest armor along its bank before stepping hoof onto the sand, she was in the mood for something different...
@[Phoebus] @[Ivar]-if you wanna creep up onto shore like always
Ivar had not made it back to their island last night.
He tries most nights because he knows that Kylin sleeps best when he is there beside her, but there had been a flaxen haired mare beside the River and the kelpie is always willing to sample temptation. What Kylin does not know cannot hurt her, and the palomino will never tell a soul.
The piebald kelpie is watching the sunrise from beneath the water, not terribly far from the sandbars that allow the less interesting residents access to the island. A pair of purple fetlocks wade through the water, and Ivar wonders what has made Kylin leave their island so early in the morning. By the time he reaches them, the pair and climbing onto the beach and Ivar has realized that the purple-legged mare is not Kylin after all. It's a stranger, but like most of the lavender clan, they share a certain similarity of looks. This one is young, but the stallion she is with is young too.
(he is no threat. she could be mine.)
Perhaps Kylin would like the have company on their island, and who better than a sister. Cousin? Aunt? Ivar has never wasted time trying to untangle the family relations of the Covelings.
The scaled stallion follows the onto the beach a few meters away, and he shakes the water from his hide and the tangled and dreadlocked mane from his opalescent and impossibly handsome face. He glances from the young mare to the colt, and it is on the red-haired boy that he focuses.
"You're not from Ischia." He says to Phoebus as the incoming tide swallows up the shallow sandbar that these terrestrial creatures had crossed. The purple mare's scent is also not as saturated with the island as a long-time resident would be, but I do not care much about that. It will be soon enough, once she is safely on my island and protected from the rest of Beqanna. Closer to her now, I decide that I am rather fond of the way the pewter of her coat blends with the amethyst.
(mine?)
I wonder, but I wait to see what the fire-haired stallion might say.
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
