"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
He watched the other horses for hours sticking to the edge of the meadow so he wouldn't have to disappoint anyone. The autumn air brushed his mossy green forelock lazily across his red brow.
A sadness cropped the green of his eyes and a tired frown kissed his muzzle.
A puzzle piece that's broken an edge, it doesn't quite fit anymore.
A weed sprouting amongst a bed of flowers.
A rain cloud dusting a crisp blue sky.
This is what he was. An object that nobody wanted. How could he be anything but an inconvenience. His voice was a drowning sailor gasping for air. It needed to cling to a passing board but no matter how hard he search, no matter how far he swam, no matter how long he stayed above water, he would ultimately sink to the oceans floor.
He watched the other horses for hours sticking to the edge of the meadow so he wouldn't have to disappoint anyone. The autumn air brushed his mossy green forelock lazily across his red brow.
All of the voices inside of my mind will never be silenced
She’s not entirely certain what draws her to the meadow that particular day. Not certain why she leaves the familiarity of the ocean’s edge, of the land that has been her home since birth. Perhaps it’s the way the land had buckled those weeks ago now. Reminding her that even the earth cannot stay the same forever. No matter how much she might wish to languish in the comfortable and familiar, nothing remains as it was forever.
Whatever the reason, she is spurred to leave. To set uncertain legs outside the boundaries of that which she has known, that which she finds comfort in, to seek out something she cannot quite name. She is not certain she will even find it here. She does not especially care for the dryness of the air and the brittle brush of late fall grasses on her pearly limbs.
It is so painfully obvious she does not belong. So crushingly absurd, a fish out of water.
The thoughts of those around her clamor loudly in her head, reminding her why it had been so easy to hide away to Tephra. Why she had never sought out such wild cacophony. Mother said she would grow accustomed to it, but she’s not certain she wishes to.
She almost flees right then, even turning in the direction of the river, before a single, forlorn thought catches on the forefront of her consciousness. A silent cry, the pleading of a very soul. It would be so easy to ignore, were she a more callous woman. But the hard reality her mother saw had been softened in her by the endless joy of her father, and she could not ignore it.
Instead she turns, follows that single thread. It is not easy in this messy, noisy place, but there is a stubborn tenacity residing deep in her soul. And soon she locates him, a man of rudy gold and earthy green. His sorrow is nearly a shout in her mind now, the pain of someone who the world had not been kind to.
She almost hesitates in her approach, not certain if she knows what to say, what to do. Not even certain if he wishes her companionship. But she has already come too far now. And in this place where she does not belong, where seafoam and pearlescent shell proclaim her a stranger, she finds herself refusing to bend before her own uncertainty.
“You’re not,” she whispers softly, the grass hushing across her pale limbs as she settles hesitantly nearby. “I don’t think you’re an inconvenience.”
Because somehow, in his need to be saved, he had saved her a little bit.
until I can find a way to let go of what we left behind
He wasn't new to Beqanna in any way, shape or form. He had grown up around horses with special gifts. His siblings and his parents had gifts, but he had none. So when the teal sabino mare who looked as if she belongs not in the sea but apart if the sea wondered over he swiveled one ear towards her and acknowledged her with a simple glance.
His fern colored eyes seemed empty towards the mares approach, another horse he couldn't converse with. She would soon grow tired of waiting on him to greet her, and move on to something or someone more time worthy.
You're not.. I don't think you're an inconvenience. she said simply, as if his thoughts had trailed on the wind and settled in her mind... and maybe they had.
Olver's fern colored eyes widened as he cocked his head towards the sabino. The emerald flecks in his eyes catching the confusion that he felt. You can understand me? he thought. His thoughts reflecting the deep smoothness he always dreamed his voice would of sounded like had he not been branded with no voice at all.
All of the voices inside of my mind will never be silenced
She eyes him warily, but a certain softness shines about her, a kindness that is unmistakable. She is not filled as endlessly with joy as her father, but she had learned of the goodness in the world from him. Her mother had tried to instil in her a greater practicality, but it is impossible to escape either of their influences. (She does wonder sometimes, what had ever brought them together to begin with. They are so very opposite from each other. But that is a musing for another day.)
At first he seems as though he expected her to reject him. Indeed, his thoughts sway towards the way she might soon grow tired of waiting for him. Might find someone more worthy. She is confused for a moment, but then, with the understanding that the words in his mind could never pass his lips, the confusion eases into ache of understanding. What must that be like? To have a head full of thoughts and no easy way to express them? After all, so many are not like her. Most cannot peer into another’s minds and read what was never spoken.
She eases closer, resisting the urge to reach out to him. To touch him, offer comfort. It comes so naturally to her, the simple act of friendly touch. But experience has taught her many do not care for it as she does.
As his thoughts resound in her own mind, a reflection of the voice he imagined he would have could he speak, she dips her head briefly. Had she the ability, her cheeks might have flooded pink in her embarrassment as it dawns on her how startling it must have been to realize his own thoughts are not private near her. She does not try to intrude, but she cannot seem to help it.
“Yes,” she replies slowly, lifting her gaze to peer a bit sheepishly at him. “I can. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I hope you don’t mind.”
until I can find a way to let go of what we left behind
06-26-2019, 05:27 PM (This post was last modified: 06-26-2019, 05:53 PM by Olver.)
It is an odd feeling to know someone - though he is sure she is not the only one - can simply drop into his mind and reach the words he could never say. It is an odd feeling indeed, but as he settled into the idea that she could "hear" him relief flooded the core of him. It felt like a flood gate collapsing beneath the weight of many decades of embarrassment, grief, self pity, and rejection.
A smile crashed across his face, honestly he wasn't even to sure he remembered HOW to smile. He imagined it looked more like a broken grimace more than a smile.
I'm sorry... about the smile it's not my strong suit.. I don't mind. I dont think. It's quite... I don't know how to explain it... nice.
The words bounced around his head, messy and uncertain. He didn't know how to do this.
The autum wind tangled between his mossy green forelock pulling it in threads across his reddene hide. The contrast was pleasing to the eyes. It was a mirror of who he was and who he tried to be. Warm on the inside eager to please and find some where to belong and cool on the outside, putting up walls to guard not himself but others he didn't want to disappoint. All she had to do was look into his mind to know he appreciated her, even if they had just met.
Olver
He had not engaged in any form of conversation.. well .. ever so he was sure this was all wrong.
A real grimace traced his face as his shoulders went up in apology.
All of the voices inside of my mind will never be silenced
Sometimes it was difficult to remember she should not react to thought in the same way one might respond to the spoken word. Especially when the clamor of minds not her own is as loud as anything uttered, nearly drowning out what might reach her physical ear. It’s difficult to differentiate, sometimes.
With him though, it’s almost a relief. His thoughts would never war with his words, and she could much more easily focus on one rather than the other. That he does not seem terribly bothered by her peculiarly intrusive gift is another boon she had not hoped for. Most do not seem to appreciate her ability in the same way. But then, their thoughts are rarely as kind as his.
And that is perhaps just as much of a relief, to know that his thoughts do not seem to sway towards the stomach-churning darkness some do.
Lifting her head, her features brighten as his face shifts into an uncommon smile. Her own lips lift in return, sea-green eyes jumping up to his. Perhaps his smile is not a practiced one, but she only sees the genuine excitement behind it. The thrill of knowing he did not have to be alone forever in the world. She had never really considered her gift as beneficial. Never thought anyone would see it as more than a nuisance, even under the best of circumstances.
“You should smile more,” she replies gently, her lips curving earnestly as she reaches out, touching him softly, almost without thought, before recalling herself and withdrawing. “I like it.”
When he introduces himself, her eyes soften, her smile shifting to one of pleased approval. “I’m so happy we met Olver,” she replies, the notes of a burgeoning friendship warming her voice. “I’m Persea.”
until I can find a way to let go of what we left behind
Persea her name verberated through his mind dissecting and appreciating each sylabol Persea - tropical tree.. tropical, sea... seashells, seafoam, seashore, salt. all of these things, fragments, bubbled in his mind. your smile is.. beautiful. She is beautiful. his thoughts shuffled unfiltered and unabashed as he watched her with his mossy green eyes.
For the first time in what seemed like since he had been placed upon this earth he was happy. Simply happy. A friend is what I need. A friend is what I have been searching for. The days pass loudly and quietly all at once. I know Beqanna is full of magic and abilities, many probably posses the same as you.... but YOU are the first to ever acknowledge that my thoughts were dying to be heard. I am happy to meet you Persea.. beautiful and extrodinary. in a quick amount of time he had come to accept that his unfiltered thoughts would be no longer untouched.
And he was exhilarated by this as he leaned into her touch, his green forelock shifting across his face as he offered his muzzle in turn. All of his thoughts and "words" filtering through at once while he placed her scent to memory. Ocean, salt. But not recent?
His brow quirks up, Do you have a home?
He had left his long ago, wandering into the forest as a small child. He thinks maybe he had hoped a predator would release him from this cage of his own. A cage he couldn't escape until now. But no such luck had befallen him so he himself had spent time wandering, and listening, but never asking to settle somewhere good.
All of the voices inside of my mind will never be silenced
It had become second nature to her, to pick apart jumbles of thought and piece it into something that resembles sense. It’s not always easy, but without having to worry about separating speech from thought, it becomes simpler. A relief, in a way. He would never expect her focus on what could often be two very separate things. She had found at a young age that the thoughts that dance through other’s minds is often not what comes from their lips. And it had taken her some time to begin to differentiate the two.
With him, she needn’t worry about any such thing. She finds herself suddenly wishing more could be like him. Quieter. Simpler.
When his thoughts shift from the sea to her beauty, she ducks her head abruptly, suddenly embarrassed once more. She knows she possesses a fairer face than most, but that had not always been the case. In truth, before the moment she had nearly died and been rescued by that nameless face within the sea, she had been quite average. But when she had been deposited on the beach, her body no longer red and white but ocean and seashell, it is not just her colors that had been changed. Though she still looks like herself (like the Persea she had been born into), the lines of her face had somehow become more refined, almost delicate, the curves of her body more pronounced, the now blue locks somehow thicker, more silken in appearance. It had been a jarring realization, when she had discovered the subtle ways in which she had changed beyond the painfully obvious.
Still, she’s not entirely sure how to react to the sudden turn in which his thought had taken. Though a part of her thrills at the notion he finds her beautiful, the more sensible part of her understands it’s not really her. It is this face she had been given.
Her gaze jumps up abruptly when he reaches out, returning her gentle touch, and a faintly bashful smile curves her lips at that. She is gladdened to know her unconscious touch had not unsettled him, and as she relaxes into the notion, her head lifts slightly and her embarrassment begins to fade. With relief, she follows the change of subject then, his thoughts shifting to curiosity over where she might live.
“I do,” she replies, her features brightening. “I live in Tephra. It borders the ocean.” One corner of her lips quirk in wry amusement at the obviousness of that statement. Of course, he had noticed her connection to the sea, so it would only make sense then that she lived near it. Truthfully, she is already beginning to yearn for the nearness of the water again, a lifeblood to her. But she does not wish to abandon her newfound friend so swiftly.
But as his mind turns to his own lack of home, a thought occurs to her. Perhaps it’s foolishly forward of her, but she dearly hopes he might consider it. “Would you… like to see it?”
until I can find a way to let go of what we left behind
06-28-2019, 11:29 AM (This post was last modified: 06-28-2019, 11:30 AM by Olver.)
He notices the way she ducks away as the thought passes through his conscious. He drops his head to peer up at her after he asks her of his home, an apology strung across his face and across his mind in unison. You are kind, and good. I did not mean to embarrass you. I would love to see your home. My parents loved me but I did not stay. Being a burden, even if only to myself, was enough to make me wander. Home..Tephra.. ocean.. the words tossed back and forth in his mind as a soft smile, not quite as awkward as the first, shifted across his face. You lead, I will follow. I hope I will be pleasant company. I look forward to spending time with her.
This had been the longest he had spent in the company of another. A feeling of anxiety bubbled low in his gut, she had said he was not an inconvenience and he hoped she would feel the same by the end of their journey. His mind wondered back to the way her face turned down at the mention of her beauty, Does she question her appearance? ... I am sorry, I don't mean to be intrusive. Why do you shy away from yourself?
No filter. The things that go unsaid by others will never remain a secret with Olver any more. He hoped she would not grow tired of his candidness.
All of the voices inside of my mind will never be silenced
She wishes earnestly things were so easy to explain to him. The way he apologizes for embarrassing her sends a flush of chagrin through her. She had not meant to make him question himself. But how does one explain that the beauty is not truly her? That she had not actually been born so fair of feature? She doesn’t think she had been ugly, it’s true, but neither would she have been likely to garner the same attention she now seems to.
“Please don’t apologize,” she pleads softly, her eyes lifting to find his, the sincerity in them unmistakable. “You did nothing wrong.”
The explanation of his current situation follows so immediately on the heels of his last thoughts that anyone who hadn’t been used to such things might find it disconcerting. As it is, Persea had long ago become so accustomed to following the fleeting trails of thought and gymnastic leaps the mind could make that it does not even occur to her to find such things odd. And with his matter of fact thoughts echoing in her own mind, the sea-green of her eyes warms to a richer, sympathetic hue.
“You could never be a burden,” she replies swiftly, her voice firm with her resolution. She understands burdens, but his presence is the very least of them. She peers at him for a long moment, as though her very stare could will into him the confidence she wished to instill. But as his thoughts turn to the offer she had made, his willingness so apparent, she eases, a smile touching her lips as her eyes jump briefly in the direction of Tephra.
“Of course!” her voice brightens as she accepts his suggestion, the lure of the ocean stronger now that she had successfully gained his companionship. She settles beside him, choosing to move at a comfortable, conversational pace so that they might continue developing their budding friendship.
His next question causes her to glance away, though she does a much better job this time of containing her abashedness. It takes her a moment to find the right words (as though anything she said would truly be enough to adequately express the foreign nature of it). “I…” she hesitates, brow furrowing as she peers intently ahead of her. “That is to say, it’s not really me.” She pauses before clarifying, “This face, it’s not… the one I was born with.”
until I can find a way to let go of what we left behind
