"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
They had taken the path that would take the longest; one that Svedka knew well, as he always avoided returning home quickly as a colt. They skirted the edges of different territories - close enough to see their landscapes from a distance, but far enough away so that they wouldn’t be questioned by any sort of diplomat or dutiful equine. Svedka had always been rather good at sneaking beneath the radar of others and to ‘secretly’ (because it wasn’t so secret, not really) pass through different lands gave him a sort of adrenaline rush, one that he hoped Ilma was enjoying as well. It made the time they spent together traveling all the more intimate, like two long lost lovers hiding beneath whispers and heated, stolen kisses.
Often he’d speak of the past, but not so much that he would overwhelm her; he made sure he didn’t. His cerulean gaze watches her so carefully with each word that he says, looking for signs of discomfort before continuing. She must be curious, he presumes, of her past, but at the same time hesitant. Svedka made sure to keep her comfortable and made the journey as laid back (and fun) as possible. Soon, the distant volcano that scrapes towards the sky effortlessly came into view, the familiar smells of home wafting through the air.
Svedka decides to stop for a moment before truly entering the kingdom, his already slow and lazy walk now diverting him to another path - one that would bring them to the rivers of brackish water that run just on the outskirts, where heated pools of lava flow just nearby. Without hesitating, he dips himself into the nearest slow-moving stream, only stopping when the warm water laps just beneath his golden shoulder. His neck curves to allow himself to drink, pausing to gaze up at Ilma with that same brilliant blue gaze. He’s grinning as he sips, only lifting his head to beckon her to join him before lowering it again, his mouth dancing just above the water’s surface. The afternoon sun alights against the water, causing sparkles to shine against the droplets on the whiskers of his pink lips.
“We’re almost there,” he mentions to her, though it is quite obvious their closeness to the kingdom. His voice ripples the water in its closeness, continuing to drag his lips across its surface as his eyes expectantly rest on hers.
a certain type of silence has filled my voice I scream beneath the water and make no noise
He took almost the longest way home - save from going in the opposite direction, he showed her crooks, turns, nighttime and daytime hideouts. He told her about Hyaline, that it was a sanctuary, or used to be; about the lake and the overhanging tree, about Solace and Kagerus - though only the basic info. She wanted to know, and at the same time it felt like he was telling a story about someone else, and when that feeling became apparent to him, it frequently made him change the subject.
Slowly, she was beginning to realize that she might never know. Not truly. She could hear about things she’d apparently done, lived through, friends she made, lovers she might or might not have had (she wasn’t sure) - but she found that she had to make new memories, and re-make those friends, in order to truly feel connected to them. It felt alien to pretend a friendship that wasn’t truly there, simply because she didn’t share the nostalgia of certain memories of the other - that’s something she could never do.
The man before her seemed to understand; in his own playful way, he seemed to even enjoy their time together, getting to know each other once again (at least, she had been given every reason to think he was of her past and that they were at the very least friendly towards one another). She fancied his easy-going nature, and the sparkle that naturally adorned his already-bright eyes so frequently. He’s made of sun and cloud and sky, she thinks - it was only a shame he didn’t sport any wings.
But then, perhaps if he did, he’d constantly flutter left to right and miss out on a whole lot of things on the ground, she mused one night. She’d been watching him trot back and forth to show her some things that day, his endless enthusiasm easily comparable to that of a child; and it made her feel like a giddy teenage filly as well, more often than not.
Life was easy this way; not feeling like she needed to do anything, but just enjoy the moment. And, frankly, the sight of him.
It occurred to her as they reached the warm pond, when the waterline hugged and thus accentuated the shape of him briefly when he passed it, that she did like him. She wasn’t quite sure where that left them - he hadn’t mentioned anything about the two of them as being together or anything, so naturally she assumed that this was not the case. She doubted herself too - what she took for suppressed feelings or lost ones, it might as well be a side effect from being totally dependent on his kindness, his guidance, and his stories.
There would be plenty of time to find out later, she figured, and for the moment, it might be best to just let herself be distracted by evey new little thing that came to her.
Ilma lets her gaze fall on the volcano - it was exactly what she remembered it to be. Fire and ash, but distant, more or less presenting a warm welcome than a threat.
And what a welcome she got. Their trek had been long, and they’d made good time today - the sun hung low in the sky, reflecting on the surface and the handsome face that invited her in - as it had done all the time she’d spent with him.
A hesitant hoof breaks surface, and she chuckles, surprised by the warmth surrounding her. The rest of her soon follows, bumping the male’s shoulder playfully as she does. ”And you think bathing now is a good idea? I’ve seen you dirty enough to know better, and I doubt anyone you live with here would be fooled.”
will you let me follow you, wherever you go… bring me home?
@[Svedka]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
The tepid water moves lazily past him, soothing the soft ache in his muscles from their journey as it passes over his tired legs. In this particular small breadth of stream, the depth is rather shallow as the water eagerly laps at the base of his shoulders and chest as he stops in the middle. The sunshine, despite its slow departure towards the horizon, is still intense against the gold and ivory patches of his body, familiarly soaking him in warm rays of dying sunlight. The nearing sunset has begun to paint the world around them in deep gold, turning even the bright green stalks of nearby grass a yellow hue.
She has turned nearly molten in the fading light and he watches her intently as she enters the slow-moving stream. A delicate and almost secretive smile appears on his now-golden lips as her timid laugh fills the quiet evening air, both of them bathed in warm Tephran sunlight. She enters the pool and comes alongside him, bumping as she does so. Playfully, he stretches his neck to scratch his blunt teeth against her smooth neck and instead of withdrawing, allows his mouth to dampen the curve of her, whuffling gently into her mane. He smiles against her skin, feeling coy and wild beneath the setting sun. He laughs, tossing his head and pulling away from her as he feigns offense at her comment.
“I’m sure my sisters would appreciate the attempt, at least.” He rolls his shoulder that is closest to her, the movement brushing his skin against hers while he takes a fluid side-step closer as they wade in the warm waters. “Besides,” he begins, lowering his head close to the surface, “there’s never a bad time for a swim.” Svedka lifts his head quickly, bringing droplets of water with him to splash her.
a certain type of silence has filled my voice I scream beneath the water and make no noise
There's little, if anything, about him that she can resist, and it's a mine-field for her. True, he seems kind and all that, but it just feels so unlike herself to pulled in that much, straight away. But what other hopes does she have of finding herself again? If she can do it together with a... friend, if friend is the right word - then she should. It's better than the alternative - going alone or, light forbid, with someone who means her harm. She cannot believe he is the latter however, which is perhaps exactly what brings her on that doorstep - a line she doesn't feel like she should cross, but nevertheless she wants to. And she knows it's weird about her to want to.
Her skin tingles with the salty warmth he brushes towards her, though the alabaster woman attempts to wade in further; pretending not to be fazed. His first comment is defensive, and she knows she's hit a core as he says they would appreciate the effort. "I'm sure they will." she says, her tone however seems to be distracted, absent even. She is more focused on the horizon, the clouds around the lonely mountain in the distance - and then with the warm droplets spraying her head. "Hey!" she fusses, trying to sound offended - but she cannot be against his playful eyes. She turns halfway around on her hind, which lifts her chest and most of her forelegs momentarily out of their bath water, effectively splashing him back on her sideways turn. "A shower then." she prompts, teeth reaching for his forelock for a pull if she can.
It's then that she finally decides to let go. What the hell - if this isn't the old her, then it's gotta be the new one.
will you let me follow you, wherever you go… bring me home?
@[Svedka]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
She’s looking into the distance; at the volcano and how it looms like a giant over all of Tephra and for a moment Svedka’s eyes follow hers. He’s come closer alongside her now as she seems distracted, his cerulean gaze flickering between the familiar volcano (it’s plume black and almost foreboding against the beautiful orange red of a fading sky) and her, concern finding the sharp edges of his handsome face, softening his expression. She retaliates quickly however, causing him to be surprised as she returns his playful splash with one of her own, soaking his head and neck with the warm water.
He snorts sharply, tossing his head to rid the droplets from his eyes and nose, a smile curling onto his pink lips. She tugs at his forelock and as she pulls away, he follows with a smooth fluidity; he nips her shoulder gently, nostrils fluttering. That same solemn, soft expression finds the two-toned of his face, his brow creasing slightly, curious. His touch has lingered longer than intended on her shoulder, his whole body following him as he curls in beside her.
Droplets of water lay like diamonds along the downy white of her feathers, coming alive with golden light as the final rays of the Tephran sun wash over them. Dusk slowly gives way into night, where the midnight blue of the sky begins to overtake the radiant colors of the sunset, winking stars now beginning to appear out of nothingness. Perhaps it is the warmth of the water and the beautiful stillness around them, but the overo cannot pull himself away from her side.
Svedka’s lingering mouth moves from her pearled shoulder to gingerly tracing the soft curve of her neck, just as a chorus of crickets and cicadas begin in the tall, golden grasses that border the stream. “We don’t have to go just yet,” he murmurs, his breath warm on her perfect ivory skin, unable to stop himself from placing a gentle kiss just above her throat.
a certain type of silence has filled my voice I scream beneath the water and make no noise
Where Old Ilma and New Ilma must merge, common ground is not easily found - except here and now. Warm waters, a teasing stallion with eyes that sparkle in cerulean blue, like the brightest gemstones might in the sun. There is a moment in which she touches him, that her memories seem to come back - almost, almost - followed up by a vision that passes by in a heartbeat. ”Svedka?” she murmurs, but distracted from her question the moment she feels his nips and touches, and her breath catches involuntarily before she can follow up.
Mind blank once, she blinks, her amber gaze finding his contrasting blue ones, just as her wings, like the sunlight, take the color of the setting sun, fading almost when the twilight settles in. There’s just about enough of a residual glow to see him though - and see something else too. A memory? She isn’t sure about that - it seems vague, different from most of the things that pass her mind’s eye. Why is it so vague, she wonders briefly, but she can’t seem to focus on anything anyway, except the warmth and smell of him. Still, before the night falls, she wants to ask this question. ”I think I have... a son? A daughter?” she frowns, trying to force the vague memory back, but it doesn’t seem to get any better - he might have the answer. ”Are they... ours?” she frowns - something about they boy’s vision hadn’t been right, but the girl... who knows? With the way they’re behaving now?
will you let me follow you, wherever you go… bring me home?
@[Svedka] Sorry she had an urgent question first haha
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Her voice is but a whisper as his name escapes her lips and in response he hums into her alabaster skin, the lightest curl of a smile finding its way onto his face. The sinking sun and the soft twinkling of familiar stars over head relaxes him all the more, finding fluidity between himself and her, closing the inches between them with one swift step towards her. Side by side, his mouth littering unspoken emotions into her cheek and neck, a growing intensity igniting a familiar spark in him that had long since been a mere smoldering ember in their past. He is beginning to long for her in a way that is past a simple friendship, the rising moon overhead stoking the fire he feels growing in his chest.
Svedka watches her carefully; gauging her reaction to his touch and intimate gestures, not wanting to cross any lines she has clearly set before him. He can only imagine the inner turmoil that truly rages inside her mind and though she has allowed much, he knows that even though he does not remember her any differently, there is a chance she is uncomfortable with a closeness she has no recollection of. There is no denying the chemistry that buzzes like electricity around them, growing bolder and brighter in the dying sunlight and rising moonlight.
Ilma’s next words catch him off guard. His quickening pulse seems to steady, the fire of desire calming with a quiet inhale as he lifts his mouth from her to meet the molten amber of her eyes, listening with a crease in his brow. There is a tilt of his head, a soft sound of droplets from his damp tendrils of white and blue dripping into the still water that laps gently at the base of his shoulder. Svedka reassures her with a genuine smile that accompanies a light bob of his head before rubbing his forehead gingerly against her neck (he still desires the closeness, unable to pull himself away from her).
“Not ours,” he replies softly into the now twilight of the Tephran landscape, pulling his head back to look at any reaction she might have. Disappointment is what he worries he will find etched onto her beautiful pale face, hoping that his answer would not steal away from their intimate moment. “I will help you search for them, if you wish it.” With a gentle exhale, his crystalline gaze drifts from hers and towards the volcano in the distance. His chest begins to push through the stream’s warm water and towards the soft shoreline, (immediately disliking the cool air that rushes in as he begins to slowly move away from her), anticipating her wish to move further into Tephra to find better answers for the visions that plague her mind.
a certain type of silence has filled my voice I scream beneath the water and make no noise
The moment is soft, warm and sweet, as he is; like a last ray of sunshine elongating the day on a late summer’s eve. There is no telling what her body might be capable of if her mind had not distracted her - distracted them - tired from travelling or not. Perhaps if she stands really still, leans in just a little, listening to his breath and the vibrations of his heart in his chest - maybe then, the moment will stretch for what feels like forever, and she can forget all about having forgotten anything in the first place?
It doesn’t seem right that this way of thinking has her suddenly recollect her children, or something of the like. She finds it was the wrong question to ask when she feels him steady himself and pull away slightly; her face contorts in a puzzled frown when she starts questioning that which she perceived as her memory. ”Huh,” she starts, then smiles at him apologetically, reaching for his neck - he is not too far away, she hopes - for a reassuring touch. ”...could have sworn…” but her voice is a hush, mumbling in the nearing darkness against his skin, and she lets go of the thought, at least verbally. The filly had something of his, but she seemed also super vague still. Perhaps she has a type,
There would be no way for the both of them to tell that they’re thinking of two sets of very different children of hers; that of the two she sees in her mind’s eye, only one is currently real, at all. A moment seems broken, like someone hit a pause button - there is no doubt to her that should the situation find itself again, there would be a fast forward - and she wants it back, if she can. The question of who she was with before is one she can answer later… perhaps when she meets them again, the perlino colt or the blue-marked filly - perhaps that’s why she liked Svedka so much. For now… if she forgot all about their sires but remembers him, then she makes the active choice not to go looking for the past, not right now.
”Not now,” she repeats her thought out loud when her sun-and-clouded friend moves away. She might as well have said don’t go, she thinks, with the way she sounds now, but honestly she cannot care. ”The middle of the night is no time for unannounced visits, is it?” she smiles at him, amused with the way he moved onward to make sure she had everything she needed, and perhaps she does have a mischievous undertone, or sparkle in her eye when she looks at him.
The irony was just that - everything she needed seemed just a single step away right now.
will you let me follow you, wherever you go… bring me home?
@[Svedka]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
His eyes flicker back to her, curious and sparkling, sounding unsure in the way her voice contemplates her memories but her touch not hesitant at all as she finds the soft champagne of his neck. Not now, comes her gentle reply and the stallion cannot help the smile that stretches across his pink lips. He halts, allowing the water to still against his skin before shuffling back towards her a few steps, moonlight trickling across the surface. Dusk is far beneath the horizon, the thrumming glow of the volcano a faint orange in the far distance. There is a hint of laughter in her amber irises that invites him back to her, resettling beside her in the same intimate way they had been before.
“You’re right,” he replies in agreement, his voice heavy and quiet with the growing darkness of nightfall. There is still a smile on the curve of his lips, one that seems to be never-ending, especially beneath the playful moonlight and its company amongst the twinkling stars. Silver light of the moon pools into the gold and ivory of his skin, which he notices becomes molten against the brilliant white of her coat, cupping into each tiny crevice of her downy wings - littered with droplets of water that sparkle like diamonds on the surface - and mischievously dancing across the soft slope of her withers and smoothly running down the curve of her hips. “Besides,” he begins a bit breathlessly, his mouth once again on the tender skin of her throat, “who knows when we’ll get to be alone again?”
A gentle hum of laughter vibrates in his chest, knowing what his statement suggests though fully aware that tonight may not lead to that. He is perfectly content with their moonlit dance beneath the Tephran sky, with the volcano’s rumble at their backs and the stars above their heads.
a certain type of silence has filled my voice I scream beneath the water and make no noise
She feels warm and it has nothing to do with the summer night air, nor the heated pool she finds herself in. No, it’s entirely to do with his actions, and she knows she would have followed him even if she had not been certain that he knew her before. For a brief moment she wonders if this is why she doesn’t recognise her children in him; had she always been a little easy? In fact, she might follow him everywhere hereafter, that is, if he’d allow it. It’s a thought that seems both a sure thing and not, to her, but she’s not here tonight to bother herself with the future, nor her past. Perhaps she should, but honestly, she just can’t focus enough on her thoughts to truly care.
And why would she, if everything seems perfect for the moment?
He comes back to her, and she can’t suppress a smile - though she doesn’t even try - the thought of him returning to her is comforting. He is her clouded sunlight - not too hot, not burning, but a pleasant warmth like a spring day; his color hints of sky blue only enhance this effect. She can’t remember if it’s always been like that, but right now he is her homing beacon, and that is enough. He is enough. And he never will be enough, either - she’d never get enough of him, or at least that’s how she feels right now.
”Then I’ll take what I can get.” she says into his sun-coloured coat with a smile, following it up with a trailing of her nose down his neckline. ”I’m sure you’re inventive enough to avoid whomever you want to at any given time, but I’d hate to discover you’re right about your sisters’ ability to track you down.” She may never know if she behaved like this once before or never had, but for now, it feels all logical and right. She knows him, even if she doesn’t remember; the traces of his skin are familiar and comforting, and she can’t help but wonder about the way one patch of white ends and another of gold, begins. There’s so much of him to memorise - she’d better start now, before whatever caused her blackout takes it all away - perhaps the idea, the danger of that, of losing it again, makes her want to try harder. She had not remembered him, but she knew somehow he would be there, would be right for her.
This time, she will do everything to remember him.
will you let me follow you, wherever you go… bring me home?
@[Svedka]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
