"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
08-12-2020, 01:20 PM (This post was last modified: 08-13-2020, 11:15 AM by Borderline.)
despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came
I moved in quietly, calmly, though my head was anything but calm. Inside my mind raged a storm like you could never truly understand. It was there where the thoughts were darkest, cruel and unkind, wrapping angry little tendrils into the deepest recesses of my head. There were thoughts of failure and miscalculations, thoughts of loneliness and sadness, but mostly, there were thoughts of death. I wished right now that I could fall upon an unsheathed sword, lay my poor heart to rest at the end of what felt like an eternity.
I shift my gaze from the ground to the world around me. The land I had entered was littered with life, mostly other horses, but here and there a hare would hop gingerly about with ears perked and eyes wide, waiting for danger to arrive. The horses milled in groups and by themselves, though mostly in groups. I would stay away from them, as groups made me highly uncomfortable. I never knew how to properly conduct myself. Sometimes I was overly excited, annoying some would say. At others I was simply quiet and an outcast. What would it be here?
As I pondered that question, I moved further into the field, my eyes now taking in the scenery. The field rolled gently into small hills, and at the far end was a large cliff with a rush of water cascading into a fair sized lake below. I liked water, so it was this direction I chose to move, my dainty legs moving effortlessly across the land, my hooves beating a rhythmic tune in the grasses below. It was as if I danced to a beat only I could hear, though after some time, I gently began to him, a soft tune, of a song that had been the only nice thing my mother had given me as a child, though I weren’t much older than a child now.
Finally, I came to the edge of the water, and this is where I stop, just close enough that the water rolls up and licks gently at my hooves, splashing my hocks. I stamp one hoof in the water, and it splashed up my legs. The water trickles down from there, the sensation creating a slight tickling feeling that I thoroughly enjoy. It is here that I will wait, playing casually in the shallow waters, for whatever might come next.
09-05-2020, 07:51 PM (This post was last modified: 09-05-2020, 07:58 PM by lilliana.)
you were a shot in the dark and aimed right at my throat
And just like that, she is young again.
She swims along a golden sea. Lilliana, who dances with swaying gilded stalks on an open moor, tosses a blue-eyed glance to the companion next to her. He is tall and handsome and she is young and foolish, with innocence still clinging to her cheeks and shining through her eyes. He had been bold and brash with her and she had been brazen with him. Time has made the memory hazy but the laughter still rings out as the girl continues to dance away from him, careful of the sparks igniting between them because she had no desire to burn under a man's gaze. She had laughed at it then, ignorant of all the ways that a look like that could raze (change) everything. He had grinned at her, wolfish and brimming with charm. 'Keep your honeyed words and roguish ways to yourself,' she had teased back and laughing again, 'and we'll get along just fine.'
And just like that, she is younger.
She is in the Dark - in the pitch of Night (not as she knows it now, not in the way that she has come to know it through Warden and his Endings) - and a girl with stars glittering on her roan coat tells Lilliana stories that she could never dream on her own. 'They have names,' Orani said in a voice filled with wonder and stardust. 'They dream just like we do.'
And just like that, she is younger still.
Lilliana looks up into the face of her silver mother as the silence surrounds them. Aletta wielded it, much as she did with her hooves or teeth in battle, letting the imagination of the children around her supplant their own versions of this story instead. Lilli could hardly stand it. She had almost stamped a hoof. Speaking up in the company of her cousins and half-siblings, she asks: 'What next, Mama? What came next?' The sterling mare had chuckled and then turned her to look at her blue-eyed daughter, 'Everything in its time, Lilliana. Things happen when it is time for them to happen. Our hero knows that." Aletta had smiled as if she knew a secret and the girl had held that dark gaze, rapt and waiting to know it. "The ending doesn't come in the middle of the story, my love."
And just like that, she blinks.
She is in the Field, chasing away the daylight from her eyes. Lilliana doesn't look to her old Gods anymore. She asks nothing of the Stars or the Winds or River (though she hears it now, taunting her with its trickling voice). Though the air is brittle and brisk, though it makes her throat tighten at a memory, the daylight saves her.
There is someone before her now, hardly older than Ruth had been that winter. The sight of the gray filly testing the shallows of the stream, carefree and so painfully ignorant to everything that might be lurking in the Common Lands, prompts Lilliana to ask: "Do you have somewhere to go?"
09-06-2020, 11:47 AM (This post was last modified: 09-06-2020, 11:53 AM by Borderline.)
despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came
I stamp my opposite hoof, and the water splashes up my other leg. Oh, it feels so good as it trickles back down, so I continue, alternating hooves. I shift my hindquarters so that my back legs are also in the water, and I dance in place, the water splashing up to my knees. I splash deeper into the pool so that the water reaches up to my belly. It all feels so good, and I don’t care what I look like to others who may be watching, music hidden in my mind, though it eventually moves to my tongue in the form of a hum.
I saw her long before she saw me, the chestnut mare off in her own world. She was mindlessly moving toward me, so I stopped playing in the waters to watch her. She seems happy in her thoughts. Was I happy? Well, most of the time I was happy, I guess, though I was definitely lonely. Yes, lonely, that’s what I would say I am.
She continues to move toward me, unaware of my presence, but then she stops, just a few feet from where I stood, just off the shore of the little lake. She blinks and suddenly seems to come back to the real world. She blinks, and the daydreams are gone like a candle flickering out in the breath of the wind. I watch her, trying to look casual, but a slight eagerness still seeps into my expression. I am lonely. Perhaps this mare would help alleviate that painful feeling.
The chestnut’s words ring in the stillness of the brisk air, clear and penetrating. Do I have somewhere to go? That was a very good question. I could have gone back to where I had come from, to a mother who failed to love me properly, to a herd that didn’t like me. No, I could not go back there. However, here felt free. Here I felt renewed. The loneliness was, of course, the predominant feeling still, but here I could start over and hopefully not fall back into the same negative patterns from before.
“No,” I almost whisper. I cough softly and repeat myself, this time a little louder, “no. I have nowhere to go.” There is a little hint of that eagerness that seeps into my voice.
09-09-2020, 10:11 PM (This post was last modified: 09-09-2020, 10:12 PM by lilliana.)
you were a shot in the dark and aimed right at my throat
The girl is dancing and in the past, Lilliana might have laughed. Might have teased her and called her a nymph, teased her for resembling a nereid with all her aquatic finesse. Now the filly dances - gracefully and carefree - and the sound of the water that she splashes around brings the chestnut mare present. In the past, Lilliana might have even joined her and a bright, bubbling laughter might have come out to dance with them.
This is the present, though. And in Lilliana's present, she is away from the North. Brennen's Magic is nowhere to be found. The only chill in the air comes from an arctic wind that blows from kingdom, perhaps calling the chestnut mare home. It tugs on her mane and Lilliana shifts her weight, trying to adjust to the presence of the grey girl before her. She blinks and tilts her head, taking into account the lankiness (though still lovely) of her frame and how she is still long legs waiting to be grown into. The filly appears to be of an age somewhere between her twins and Aela.
An age that Lilli thinks is too young to be wandering the Common Lands on her own.
She wishes that the child had told her she had somewhere to go; somewhere to belong. She wishes that there was mention of a mother or a father but there is nothing. The girl has no one and the Taigan would never leave a young one to the elements, the unknown, to Beqanna. There could be nothing but trouble for her in the Northern forest. But, a voice tells her, but there could be trouble here, too.
A small part of her breaks to hear someone so young say they have nowhere to go. It's the way of the world, these tiny cruelties that knick her in different ways and yet Lilliana still aches at them, will always ache at them. It finally happens - a moment in the present - where a small smile quirks on the Guardian's dark mouth (for she remembers who she is; there is a girl in need of a home and this is something she could provide). "Would you like somewhere to go?"
And just like that, a beginning if the waterdancer wants it.
09-10-2020, 12:01 AM (This post was last modified: 09-10-2020, 12:02 AM by Borderline.)
despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came
Perhaps I was beginning to feel the eagerness a little more strongly. I could almost taste it on my tongue as soon as the words had left my lips, and I can feel myself beginning to tremble–though it is almost imperceptible. If it was perceptible, I could always tell her that I was starting to get cold, and that perhaps winter wasn’t the best time to be playing in the water. Luckily, it wasn’t that cold. I realize that my thoughts are beginning to wander, so I bring it back.
I watch the older mare very carefully, trying to gauge her emotions, trying to take in every micro expression, scanning for some sort of hint that this could be too good to be true. Would she give me a home, or would she suddenly laugh at me and tell me that no one loves me and that I should just jump off a cliff? I realize once more that my thoughts are wandering, and I bring them back to the chestnut mare.
She seems genuine, this red mare with the golden symbol on her shoulder. Her expression shows concern and a hint of regret for my living situation. Then she asks if I would like somewhere to go. I could have danced back out of the water. Actually, I practically do, though it is less elegant and marked by excitement rather than playfulness. “I would love somewhere to go!” I say, practically squealing.
In my excitement, I accidentally splash the other mare, and when I realize this, I back away a step and lower my head in embarrassment, and a lock of my scraggly blue mane drapes into my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say, rather contrite now. Would she still want someone as clumsy as me coming home with her, now?
@[lilliana] don’t worry about it. I’ve been gone so long and been out of practice that I feel like I am way less eloquent in my writing than everyone else! Lol
you were a shot in the dark and aimed right at my throat
Lilliana has made far too many leaps in her life to suggest anyone else do the same. The last time she had been with her cousin, Elena, she had finally urged caution. No more cliff-dancing, as she had called it. The chestnut mare seldom takes them these days. Her leaps of faith are now limited to ones that can be contained. If she falls (fails) now, she runs the risk of a scraped knee from patrolling in Taiga instead of falling from heights that she can't catch herself from.
The girl dances forward and it summons the small smile on Lilli's face to grow as she approaches. She is all unpracticed delight and it is a beautiful, shining thing to Lilliana. Innocence like this rarely lasts long in Beqanna, she thinks.
"I come from Taiga," she explains and then turns her head towards the direction that she had come from. "From the North," she corrects herself, remembering that Taiga is the same now as the Isle or Nerine. "It's a large forest," she adds, "but there are cliffs if you venture towards the ocean and if you enjoy water, there is an Isle that you could visit." It's a journey, her silence says. (Lilliana has made it once and that once has, so far, been enough for her. The sleek-coated mare has never enjoyed the feeling of icy ocean wrapping around her.)
Her ears prick as she waits for a reply and Lilliana shifts her weight from one hip to another, trying to alleviate the pain that always seems settle in her joints with each pregnancy. The filly, in all her youthful enthusiam, splashes forward with her excitement and it even drenches Lilliana. While it doesn't make her laugh, something sparks behind her blues eyes and she takes a step forward where the girl had stepped back. She apologizes (and some part of her despairs at that), "You have nothing to be sorry for." Lilliana says gently.
Lifting her head, she asks with a returning smile, "How about offering your name instead? I am Lilliana."
When the other mare turns to look back in the direction from which she comes, I look with her, following her gaze carefully. Was that were I would go, too? I am excited, to be sure, but with that excitement comes trepidation as well. Goodness knows I have ruined a fair few things in my life. I could easily ruin this opportunity as well. My mother had liked to remind me of the things I had ruined for her.
I listen in rapt silence as she explains the place from which she comes. A forest? I draw in a steady breath, trying to imagine it. A forest with cliffs and an isle. I could feel the excitement peaking within me, and that’s when I splashed forward, practically drenching the other mare and hanging my head in shame. She tells me that I have nothing to be sorry for, however, and within a moment, I can feel the excitement once more. I hadn’t ruined this opportunity! At least not yet.
The mare smiles, and I return the smile, perhaps with a little more enthusiasm than I meant to. “My name is Borderline,” I say. It wasn’t a very nice name. My mother had liked to remind me that she’d named me that because I was borderline crazy. But this mare, Lilliana, did not need to know that. In fact, I don’t think I want to really talk about my past with anyone here. I had come to make a new life for myself, to start fresh.
The excitement hasn’t worn off as I wonder out loud, “would I swim to the isle?” Well, that was a dumb question, Borderline, I tell myself. Of course you would have to swim to an island. An embarrassed look passes briefly over my features. “I do enjoy water,” I say, trying to get over the embarrassment while looking back down at the lake I had previously been playing in.
09-11-2020, 04:52 PM (This post was last modified: 09-11-2020, 04:52 PM by lilliana.)
you were a shot in the dark and aimed right at my throat
It's hard to imagine Taiga at first. Lilliana had once described it as intriguing and all these years later, she still thinks it's an appropriate descriptor for the Northern forest. The fog certainly lends it an air of mystery, the way that the haze of it haunts the trails and wide tree trunks like a ghost. The are spaces of it - wild, vast, closed off from the world - where it seems like time has forgotten to exist.
Trapped spaces from another era, perhaps.
Lilliana tries her hardest to explain it. The chestnut mare smiles a little more at the girl and tries to describe the cliffs of Nerine and the rolling moorlands that flow away from those edges. She tries to describe the crags and moors of the beaches, the way that Taiga and the former home of the Amazons, come together. It's the Isle that proves more complicated but the chestnut mare finds the smile on her face deepening when she asks about, a girlish dimple emerging against a curved cheek. "Unless you have another way to travel there," Lilliana teases and watches the girl for a moment, waiting to see if she'd say anything.
There is nothing on the outside of @[Borderline] that says otherwise. There are no wings to make the journey swifter, like her eldest child Nashua. She can't see any scales or gills to make the swim easy, like her fellow Councilmember, Lethia. But the story is so rarely told at the surface. It only begins to emerge when diving deeper.
Borderline is young but so aren't most of the inhabitants of the Isle. Leilan's court might be a place that Borderline could feel at ease. "If you'd like, you can accompany me back to Taiga. Should you desire a swim," she teases gently but her late pregnancy shows that its nothing something Lilliana can (or will) do. "I can point you in the direction of the Isle."
As I listen in rapt silence, my eagerness to go to Taiga grows steadily until I am visibly trembling. There is so much energy pent up within me that I can’t stand still. I begin to dance once more. “Taiga sounds amazing!” I exclaim heartily, tossing my head so that my blue mane sweeps over my face.
So I would have to swim to the isle. The prospect intrigues me, but I know that I will not make that journey anytime soon. A chilly wind picks up around us as I think that, reminding me that we are in the throws of winter, and that swimming to an island would probably be a bad idea right about now, but I definitely take mental notes, because I certainly want to visit the isle someday! “I definitely want to go, but perhaps now is not the time?” I let out a soft chuckle.
By now, I had stopped dancing, a little of that pent up energy having been wasted. However, when Lilliana invites me to accompany her back to Taiga, I start to dance once more. “Oh! Yes, please!” In my eagerness, I dance forward in the direction she had motioned before, where Taiga should be located. I stop for just a second, throwing my head back over my shoulder to see if the older mare was following.
