"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
We got older and I should have known that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
The ice-clad roan knows winter is not the time of year to be picky - knows that the ten-or-so residents on the Isle will not survive if they stay there all the time. Yet, he feels that the rest of Beqanna may not be ready for another move such as happened in the Pampas. This time, he doesn’t do it just to upset people. The Isle will need allies, after all, not just enemies.
It is why he turns to the Tephran kingdom. Tephra, in all it’s silent majesty, is the most neutral kingdom one can find these days. Since Vulgaris and Leliana had stepped down, not much news had come from them, and they’d stayed away from most of the ruckus between the other kingdoms - had not put in a claim on Taiga that they might have actually succeeded with, had not stolen from anyone to try and gain power over the others.
Ruinam, even, had ventured north to help chase away the rampaging dragon, albeit probably he had come for his own reasons and less so to actually fight the Loessian king over an island already lost to flame. He can appreciate, however, the gesture of the male staying to help minimize the damage, even though most of it had already been done.
And yet he’d heard nothing from the male lately, which somewhat worried the ice dragon.
He comes through Taiga towards the Tephran border, having picked to walk and present himself like a relatively good diplomat. His whinny summons whoever wants to answer, and then he settles in for the wait. Not wholly; he’s not overly relaxed, and his eyes, shifting colors whenever he changes his type of vision, dart through the jungle to spot any movements before they become apparent to any other.
He just hopes he doesn’t have to confirm that Tephra is largely empty, really.
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Isilya] @[any diplomats pls]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
Things had been very exciting on the border of Tephra lately. So many new friends! Today, for once, she had not already been patrolling when she hears the call - but a blink later and she has stepped through one tree and appeared in another. She does not teleport directly to where the call had come from out of fear of spooking whoever had arrived (that simply would not make the best first impression!) so she appears a few dozen meters deep into the forest still and then winds her way forward.
Today the vines that trail down her spine are decorated in deep purple and red roses, contrasting dramatically from the porcelain and gold colours of her coat.
Though the flowers on her vines might change, her smile is as consistent as the tropical weather in Tephra - and just as warm when she spots the unknown stallion standing near the border.
“Hello!” She calls as she weaves around the last few tree trunks separating them before coming to stop a companionable distance away. “Welcome to Tephra! I’m Isilya, can I help you with anything?”
There's not much that happens in Tephra that Saint is not perfectly aware of. That thread of magic that keeps her tied to the land also gives her the strength to be constantly patrolling, just a simple dragon princess casting her serpent shadow over the tropical kingdom. She loves it, the black shadows of her wings ballooning when she strokes down, then shrinking when she flies up.
That is what she does when she spots Isilya and the Icicle Isle leader. At first, she doesn't think much of the encounter, and continues to study the heat signatures of the nervous creatures below (her stomach rumbles, she's hungry, and she thinks she might ignore the pair to hunt); but when she draws in her next deep breath, the distinct scent of dragon drags her into a sharp turn.
"Hmmm," Saint hums to herself, circling high enough above the pair to appear mostly nondescript. Her infrared vision turns off and she studies them, able to just make out their colors from her height.
Suddenly, the dragonness tucks her wings tightly to her sides and enters a deep dive. Saint's princess nature has always given her a bit of a flair for dramatics, this frightening descent being a bit of a show she relishes in.
Saint flares her wings out at the last minute, shifting quickly into her horse form but keeping her wings, back legs swinging violently forward as she violently lands. The grass beneath her hooves gives way as transforms back into her dragon, talons digging into soft, soft dirt. The talons curl and uncurl, Saint being one inherently suspicious of other dragons having been born to protect a recently burnt down kingdom.
Still, though cautious, Saint remains calm and crouches behind Isilya, curling in such a way that might indicate she is protective of the queen.
"Hello," she states clearly, but otherwise remains quiet.
He is content to observe from the shadows, most of the time. The jungle whispers all its ancient secrets to him, and sometimes they even tell a joke or two. The old witch is content to swap stories with the trees as he divines the future in the bones of birds picked clean. But today the vines rustle and excitedly announce a visitor. Maleficar lifts his chin and he wonders if they are confused again, forgetting faces as they come and go across the borders. They are unreliable – not at all like the trees, you see. The gnarled branches and impressive trunks keep all the gossiping to themselves though.
He gives a dramatic sigh to let them know he’s aggravated by the silent treatment and then he rises from the little grove in which he lies. Though he’s far older than even Tephra herself, his face is youthful and his locks are short – he could pass for a newly matured colt or maybe two or three summers. Maybe it’s his vanity or just his mysterious nature to keep the truth to himself.
When he arrives, dark towering with a warm smile across his face, he finds that the vines were not making things up this time. Saint and Isilya have beat him here and he’s eager to offer them a friendly nod of his head. The dragon girl has grown impressively from the knobby-kneed child she used to be, he thinks. Now is not the time to pinch cheeks and fawn over younger generations, though.
“Hello everyone,” he greets them cheerfully before turning his gaze to Leilan. “I am Maleficar, at your service.”
He watches from the corner of his eye as the flowers all turn their blossoms to their queen and the dragon girl, excitedly murmuring to one another. They never even give him so much as the time of day. Though his feelings are hurt, his attention remains on their visitor with an unwavering grin.
One moment no-one is in sight; another, his vision detects the heat signature of a mare nearby. He blinks; seeing her emerge from the foliage, he smiles a little to himself, his eye color taking a hint of turquoise coloring instead of the normal icy blue. She must have thought that this way of appearing would be considered the normal way of transport - and it would have fooled him, had he not been able to see the heat signatures hidden behind the tree stems and bushes.
Nevertheless, he pretends not to have noticed - she greets him cheerily, and besides, she is a balm to the eye. Not that he wants to be interested in anything like that, these days, knowing how much it hurts to lose anyone - but he can still notice the fact.
Before he can reply, they're overtaken by the shadow of - a young dragon. He spots her no sooner than she spots him, but then, he'd been focused on the woods. He smiles almost knowingly at the younger mare when she sidles up to her leader, pleased with the idea that there are dragons in the world who focus on protection, not on conquering. She smells... green? How interesting - but a question for later, he supposes. "Thank you Isilya, greetings to you two as well. I'm Leilan, of the north." He can't rightfully call it Icicle Isle these days, anyway. And there's only one land exactly north from here.
It is during his speaking that another appears; seemingly a young silver bay, which inadvertently takes the silver bay roan back in time - years and years prior. His ears move with the sound of the young man's voice - there is a way in his eyes that seems to indicate he is older than he looks, but then, many horses are immortal in one way or the other, and the ice-scaled stallion doesn't think much of it. "Nice meeting you, too. I'm glad to see Tephra is doing well." Quite a relief, really - he'd known Leliana ruled a while after Magnus, and then her husband, he thinks (though he's not entirely sure of the man's name) - but besides her name, he has heard nothing much of Isilya. It had been a gamble to come here then, just hoping it wasn't a practically abandoned place. Yet here she is, bright and dare he think it, actually quite innocent-looking.
"I believe you can guess why I'm here, though, I'm not in a hurry to discuss politics if you'd rather get to know one another first." he offers up - truly, the standard way of diplomatic meetings is usually a stiff meeting, an exchange of offers and needs; frankly, he thinks that's the boring way.
Besides, plenty of rulers made the mistake of not getting to know one another and ending up finding out that their terms had loopholes - something he beliefs a real friend would not make use of so easily as a friend-on-paper.
nothing burns like the cold
Leilan
@[Isilya] your turn I think ^^
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
There’s a warm sense of love for her fellow herd mates that washes over Isilya when they join her - both Saint and Maleficar earn a shiny smile as they settle in and make a united front with her. She feels comforted by the presence of the dragon at her back and the champion by her side. Although Maleficar wears a young face, Isilya knows it is he who she would turn to if she were ever in trouble.
Her smile only fades once, when Leilan mentions he is glad to see Tephra is doing well. Was there any doubt? The kingdom has been flourishing within the borders and no troubles have been brought before Isilya. But she pushes these worries away - if Tephra is shrouded in mystery simply because it causes no trouble with the other lands that is a good thing.
“I’ve never been very good at guessing games, unfortunately.” Isilya says this with a light laugh, gentle as a breeze. It’s actually very mysterious to her why Leilan of the North would arrive here. Perhaps if she had time to give it some thought she would riddle things out, but it would be very rude to do so when she is with company - right?
She’s been practicing her diplomat voice while negotiating between flowers over patches of sunlight and that combined with the strength of fellow Tephrans by her side is all she really needs to keep going. That smile is ever-present - for company is always a delight, even if they are shrouded in mystery. “I’ve found politics to be quite intertwined with discovering what someone is like, though. So I am sure we will get to know each other just wonderfully as we discuss… whatever it is you wish to.” She falters a little at the end, sparing a glance towards Saint and Maleficar quickly to see whether or not they approved of this reaction.
After all, if they were to switch to a different means of getting to know one another Isilya would spend the next day quizzing everyone on their favourite flower, and then growing meadows of it for them as they chatted about the bees. She is learning, though, that what she wishes to know about others does not necessarily line up with an ordinary view of conversations, and it feels silly to start quizzing someone so clearly here for a purpose.
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