"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
I'm bored. And damn, if I haven't heard my mother say that. Often right before she gets into some sort of trouble.
But I'm more than bored. I'm curious. I've been listening and watching and I want nothing more than to learn as much as I can. What I'll do with that knowledge I don't yet know. What I do know is that I need an outlet, a place to put my energies. Otherwise, you know, I might just burn the world down for a diversion.
I've caught a name here and there, just the name, which is enough to catch my attention. I spread a subtle word that I can be found in the Meadow, and that I possess gifts with which I am talented and also need an outlet.
Camrynn, I think as I step over the threshold into the meadow. My mother would at least approve of this; an errand to find a stranger. Anything, of course, would be better than the Chamber. She has a thing.
The sun is beating down on the Meadow, and here and there I see couples and trios seeking shelter from the heat. Me, however, I thrive in the heat. I come to a stop in the most open part of the Meadow, where the sun is hottest. The flames are riding in my tail now, burning away any twigs or bugs unfortunate enough to get tangled amongst the ash gray strands. They aren't sentient, but it's like I can tell what they want. I talk to them, and they respond.
Or maybe I'm batshit crazy. I honestly wouldn't be surprised.
ooc: this is the clumsiest post i have written today. i sincerely apologize. :p
this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more
On some days, Lagertha things that if you’re bored, you’re just being lazy. Other days, she just wants to doze a little bit longer in the early morning sunlight, and if that is being lazy (indulging her real age, not the stop-and-start appearance), then so be it. She’s earned it.
Although after several years, her patience for the Fairy is wearing thin, and she’s about to throw in the towel and give up on her immortality. Which is absolute bullshit, because the Fairy itself said it would be in the Meadow for the inhabitants to petition it for reinstatement of their hard earned rewards. It’s looking more and more that if she wants to stop time for herself, she’ll have to take the throne and stop playing by the rules. Fine. Resume earlier plans. Move on, before she became an old bag of bones.
The General’s waterbuck horns now arc a good four or five inches above her ears, sharp and pointy and ringed. They no longer seem heavy, though they are a constant reminder of the responsibility she carries with her, day and night; the safety of the Jungle and her sisters is (usually) foremost in her thoughts. Except for the days when she lingers quietly in the Meadow, watching and waiting, and hunting for her lost Immortality. She can’t hear the others think, of course, so she doesn’t know she’s intruding - but can you blame her, the stallion’s burning tail is a freaking beacon. Show-off.
Oh - but - now wait. Lagertha has tricks of her own. Chuckling to herself, she coats her iron-gray skin in an armor of blood red garnets, leaving the onyx crown of thorns as a dark mark along her upper thigh. Her broad, muscular body glints with every confident step, and as she draws up alongside the gray stallion, she says simply, in her very matter-of-fact-Lagertha way, “I assume you know you’re on fire?”
I'm partly ashamed to admit that as I've seen my share of giftings in Beqanna and I should know better than to be surprised.
Still. Horns.
It's pretty fantastic. My mother's flying seems interesting, and her mind reading is fascinating (not so much when you are thinking things you'd rather she not know), but horns. Horns would be endlessly useful, especially in a fight, or simply to intimidate. If she is trying to impress me as she walks closer, this gray mare with the brilliant red armor and the crown of thorns on her thigh, I would hate to admit aloud that she has partially succeeded.
The flames are in awe, and they have no such pride. Their tendrils lick the air near her hooves before I sharply order them back. They sulk onto my legs, sending out an occasional spark in rebellion. Nothing is more temperamental than fire.
"Most of the time I know." I offer with a wicked grin. "Other times it's news to me until a tree catches the flame's interest and they turn it to ash."
Though she hasn't asked, she seems settled for the moment so I offer my name.
"I'm Kushiel, one of Carnage's thousands of children and the only one of Gallows."
"How do you do that?" I add after a moment's glance, not much concerned with whether I sound blunt, indicating the armor covering her body. I'd heard rumors that the Meadow could be an interesting place, and I am finding it meets my expectations.
