"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
Cosmos and Myrkari off in the capable hands of the brood in Tephra, Peregrine Jude picks her way delicately through the common lands of Beqanna. Though she has come to quite like the two, she is glad to be rid of them for a day (it is so easy to lose oneself in motherhood). Jude does not forget who she was (still is, buried deep) before the Cosmos and Co. took over her life.
The first hints of spring are glimmering through in each little corner of the common lands: a bright flower here, a buzzing bee there (the illusion of hope as those who are not sick can ignore the plague for even just a few seconds). Jude notes each miniscule detail as the early morning sun fades in and out of the waving leaves above. She stops for a moment, allowing her pink and lavender body to glow beneath the warmth - comfortable.
The river (her destination) is not too far ahead. Jude picks up her lithe and languid movements again, trotting through the growth of the forest. Green leaves and morning mist tickle her legs. She is nearly intoxicated by the feeling, enthralled by the cool breeze so different from the hot Tephra air.
Jude canters into the river when she reaches it, darkening her pale coat to a delicious pink. The tips of her curly man dampen and stick to her nape as she drops her head into the rushing water to drink. She drinks like she has not had water in a month: her maw a centimeter beneath the rush for minutes at a time. When she is done with her drink she wades further into the powerful current. The melting snow gives the river an edge it does not have during other months, so Jude finds herself planting her hooves against its strength. There she stays, chest deep in near-dangerous waters, just happy to be exerting her muscles.
11-25-2018, 12:49 PM (This post was last modified: 11-25-2018, 12:50 PM by Vadar.)
Darling leave the light on for me I'll be there before you close the door
Vadar is well aware that he shouldn’t have looked. In his defense the brightly colored mare, painted like a springtime daisy herself, had startled him into a jerking, flashing sort of awareness. The black coat and offset silver hair he wore sparkled briefly like a diamond put up against the sun, thousands of small, blood red beams that glanced away from the epicenter of his body until he came to behold the picturesque female wading out into the heart of river. He should not have looked, because when he does it's impossible to tear his eyes away again.
She was lovely. Having been born an unsightly creature himself and raised briefly underneath the conflicted eye of a dam who was handicapped, Vadar’s always drawn to the things in life he’ll never be able to imitate. A Quasimodo, splashed on the face with a ridiculous-looking mask, forever falling in love with gypsy women who only have eyes for rich, talented, handsome creatures unlike himself.
Ah well. He was staring now so the worst had already taken place. Having subdued his power for the moment, the darkish stallion brought his legs squarely underneath himself again and lowered eyelids that had widened, appraising her on the banks of the meadow with equal amounts fear and longing. She’d come directly from the forest like some wandering nymph, unabashed and certainly not opposed to attention … he just doubts his ability to truly entertain her.
No question in his mind that she was one for adventure, or perhaps the mildly dangerous sort of male, both of which he was severely lacking. Still, for some reason he can’t explain, Vadar finds himself winding nearer to the exposed shore - ears perked upright and mouth smiling, always smiling. “You look entirely too happy to be in the midst of a plague.” He calls out from where he stands, the tan and muddy riverbank sinking beneath the weight of his stocky build.
So far apart the two look equal in size, maybe his thick chest and hindquarters give him a bit of a boost, but up close she’s taller than him. Most were. It’s why he still lingers instead of sinking into the water himself. Out there - in the heart of the swirling eddy she so brazenly stood against - he’d have to tread water. “What’s your secret?” He wants to know, swishing the pewter strands of his lush, too-thick tail and leaving streaks of pale clay along his flanks in its wake.
The water tugs longingly at Jude’s body, grasping her mane with hands as aggressive as a lover’s. She is content there: encapsulated in this moment forever by her strength - mental polaroids taken to be remembered years down the line (What is it again? Nostalgia?). She swears to herself she will remember how strong she and those she surrounds herself with have been.
It is the welcome cascading of water that keeps the candy-pink woman from noticing her observer. So loud the crashing snowmelt is that the approach of another is near impossible to detect. How funny, for the woman does not mind attention (admirers, lovers, friends, ect. . .); if she had sensed him earlier, she certainly would have drawn him closer with a sweet drawl and the bat of an eye.
Alas, her skills will go unpracticed today, for the strangely marked stallion approaches her of his own will. Jude does detect him at the very last second, suddenly lifting her finely-curved head upward to stare at him as he begins to speak. An obvious cock of her head and a delighted (perhaps delightedly sly) smile are her immediate reactions. The sun radiates off of her almost-childish looking coat, glimmering like a treasure just an inch too far away to reach. Jude waits, languid and feline, relishing the silence (the power) as it hangs between them.
Vadar’s appearance is a bit of a mystery from where the pegasus planted herself; so, she walks onto the bank as if the river had parted itself for her.
Finally, she grins: “Ignorance, really. I’m well, and so are my children. Why not continue to take the risk?” It is the truth. Jude has no idea of the pain the plague can cause because she has yet to see it - and she is still so young (if she cannot sense it, is it really that terrible?).
Plague aside, the pink woman is fascinated by her new friend.
“I could ask the same of you!” she teases, stepping a few feet closer to study him better. “Though you certainly seem more . . . morose. I’m Jude, by the way - Peregrine Jude.” She smiles lazily at him, debating on asking about his markings: “I like the way you look.”
Darling leave the light on for me I'll be there before you close the door
Premonitions aside, her initial reaction to the approach of a stranger is admittedly refreshing. Vadar watches her without moving, admiring the subtle lines of her neck and the way she paints a pretty smile over her mouth as she turns to look. No signs of animosity harden her glare, she doesn’t leave; in fact she’s the farthest thing from ‘timid’ he’s ever seen - cutting her way to his side of the riverbank with those long legs of hers. Everything about this creature radiates a level of confidence that far surpasses his own, but the clown-faced stallion is caught in her web. He doesn’t struggle against the conflicting feelings of whether or not he should be engaging himself with a character like her, and he certainly makes no expression that would suggest this inner turmoil to his newfound companion.
He merely listens to her, passes a quiet sort of judgement over the pink and candy-purple female, then raises his chin to meet her curious (blatant) observation of his facial markings with a red-eyed stare of his own. “Coming from you, I could almost be convinced that’s a compliment.” He retorts to Jude’s sly, offhand manner of speaking. The rumble and roll of her thick accent feels nice on his upturned ears, like dark satin and a crackling fire. “Not a look many of us could pull off, Peregrine,” He grins gently, testing out her name in a voice as warm as the sun overhead. Nothing about him, aside from the obvious outer appearance, is aggressive or domineering. Vadar is a silent sort of strength, easygoing and astute but never cowardly. “though something tells me you’re all hands on deck for anything out of the ordinary.” He laughs softly, noticing the fan of sultry lashes rimming her alluring eyes.
Good god, she could stop death in its tracks.
“Humor me, please.” The black and silver male asks out of turn, “Have you got a sister or relative lingering around out there? Whoever your children’s father is, he’s a lucky bastard.” The vagabond compliments, shaking his head in obvious disbelief. Whatever kind of horse roamed around making miniature versions of this dame was certain to be an animal he never wanted to meet. Must drive a man to insanity, keeping up with her, Vadar thinks, content to reap the benefits of her attention while he had it. The sun flares bright and hot in the sky, and the oddly ‘morose’ stallion takes a comfortable position as he waits for her answer.
The violence that lies just beyond the curtains of Jude’s beauty is well masked. She has the kind of sumptuous call that starts wars, at least in the lands dominated by foolish men. Perhaps that is the time she is from: when it took no more than wanting a fair young princess from an enemy country to start battles that take countless lives; and, perhaps, Jude would relish that attention (she likes to think she would not). She certainly looks the part: fair, long-haired, graceful and voluptuous.
A princess, one would think - if too dull to see the serpentine sway of her hips.
Peregrine. She likes that; instead of directing him to her usual nickname, she allows the pleasantly surprising waves of a new identity to tingle down her spine. Her languid smile passes into a flighty grin, drawing the corners of her eyes into a much more mischievous tilt. A few stray curls fall into her right eye, the purple sparkling like a smooth amethyst behind the soft pink.
“I think there is much more beauty in the bizarre.” More a purr than a reply, charmed amusement seeping like slow lava onto each word. “I like to think I am quite strange. Though, pity! Most only see that I am pretty.” Now her grin is much more animated, hinting at some secret joke spoken at her expense.
Jude cocks her head to the right, chewing on Vadar’s compliment like a cow keeps its cud. Lucky indeed, she thinks, almost bitter - though the silvery stallion does not have to know that. The unpleasant twinge passes and Jude drops her radiant grin for something more subtle: soft lips slightly upturned on one side.
“Do you really think someone could bear to be my sister?” is her gently teasing reply, followed by a roll of her eyes. “No relatives around - lonely old me.” The pegasus flutters her lashes now, stepping close enough to see the single hairs that make up his odd markings. “That lucky bastard, though, is just my friend,” she continues, placing each word exactly where it needs to be.
“I’m single, and if I didn’t know any better, I would think you are hitting on me.” With a swish of her tail and snap of her teeth she tries to draw an actual advancement from Vadar, though Jude suspects he will say something just as coy back.
“Forgive me! I did not ask your name. I’d certainly like to know it.”
Darling leave the light on for me I'll be there before you close the door
Peregrine Jude is pretty, whether she likes it or not. In the opposite way, Vadar is … weird, at best. They’re both familiar with being taken for face value, but in the end an old saying rang true. First impressions are everything, and by now it must’ve been impossible for Pink Peregrine to ignore the effect she had on others. Vadar understands how double-edged a first glance can be. He does. It’s just that he’s constantly fighting his effect while Jude seems busy embracing hers.
Not that he’s against her charms, clearly. He’s busy admiring the way her natural curls blend together, noticing a few strands tumble over her cheek before she says a quick word or two. Those curls were nicer than all the biting conversation in the world, and he could’ve stared longer if not for the way she grinned. Something about it made Vadar feel like he’d pushed her buttons unintentionally. “A bit too much confidence on my end,” he reasons, shifting a bit on the wet bank, “or misguided venom.”
Probably a bit of both, so he doesn’t test her limits (or his own) by crossing boundaries. The black stallion focuses around her bright, enticing shape - towards the slope of the riverbed - and waits to chuckle after Pergerine mentions having no competition. No sisters, no relatives, and what instantly perks his ears, no lucky bastard. “Should I be ashamed of myself?” He asks the pegasus mare, turning to focus on the pale outline of her lashes. If his nose stretched out to sweep those curls back, they might disappear.
“I’m just Vadar.” The dark horse says after a moment, breathing out an amused snort. “A nobody from nowhere, except -” He pauses, “- if lucky bastards get to be your friends. Then I’d like to be one of those.” Her companion admits, reaching out to bury his lips into a tumble of Jude’s thick, purple mane. Maybe not what she was expecting, still intensely satisfying to touch in his opinion. Worth getting blood drawn, if he’d misread the tone of things.
“You’re not a nomad though, are you?” Vadar pulls back, “I should’ve guessed. Only someone who’s finally gotten away from something could be as carefree as you looked.” He taunts, easing apart from her to meander closer to the water.
@[peregrine jude] I got so hung up on this reply, in a good way
The glowing red of Vadar’s gaze passes over Jude and onto the riverbank, begging the question: do hers follow? The purple in her eyes melts to a kind of sly warmth, where there was once coy sparkling there is now swirling pleasure. Up until this moment this had all been the pegasus’ typical languid game, a cast and reel - testing the bites as they come. To her core, though, Jude is a genuine woman. When she finds her comfort she sits in it, this particular comfort being the lazy back and forth the pair so quickly possessed.
The agile muscles beneath her silky pink fur roll like water as she shifts to one side, settling into a relaxed lean and sighing contentedly.
Vadar continues to speak - Jude hanging onto every word with a saccharine smile (that seeming to be her face their whole encounter). The ground squishes beneath her hooves when she shuffles about, lips closing together in delight: he would like to be friends. The pink mare laughs, a full bell-like ringing. Just friends? The idea of a friend that she has not found in Tephra is so foreign to her, not from a place of contempt or conceit, but from excitement that someone takes interest in something other than her pretty face. Most ventures out end with her boredom or the final and painful roll of her eyes when someone advances, but ventures out are so few and far between.
It is quite funny, the simple things she loves that she denied of herself (and perhaps others have denied her, as well).
The hot breathe and soft touch of Vadar’s muzzle draws her out of her delighted reverie. If Jude could purr, she absolutely would (and even still she has to resist the urge to curve her head around his). Too quick he draws back, the pegasus’ only response a heavy droop of her eyelids and a drunken grin.
“No, not a nomad . . .” she pauses, fluttering her lashes in faux distres, “I’m afraid I don’t have the steel it takes to travel alone.” The smirk on her mouth is biting, suggesting that she does in fact have what it takes - she just does not want to. “I live in Tephra, with my two daughters and their father. Sometimes it gets a little too . . . hot under that volcano.” She might be hinting at the suffocation she feels whenever her daughters scream too much, or she might be telling the truth . . . The interpretation is left wide open.
“Are you a nomad? Regardless, you should come visit. I can give quite the in depth tour.” The glint in her eye returns, followed by a slow swish of her long tail. Perhaps she is actually flirting back.
i've been blossoming alone over you
@[Vadar] I DIDNT REALIZE IT HAD BEEN SO LONG i still love him
