"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
12-05-2020, 07:47 PM (This post was last modified: 12-05-2020, 07:48 PM by Yanhua.)
And when all the lights are broken, You keep the fire going
Somehow, like his mother before him, Yanhua could always find an anchor in the most unusual of places. The River, whose nature was anything but stationary, seemed to pull at him when he was lost and at his lowest. The curling rapids had a way about them he never could seem to quit, and among his favorite places in all of Beqanna this one - the bend of rushing water where Hyaline’s great peaks rip apart the sky just across the border - is one of his favorites. It seemed… magical. Constantly buoyant from the change in atmospheric pressure, a fog from Taiga perpetually hovered across its surface, stronger when the weather was just right or when the goddess of the morning was just waking from her restful slumber, casting all the world in a pearly glow. Yanhua loved it most for the musical quality: the tinkling of the water as it pushed against shoreline reeds, the high and low notes of the wind through the trees.
It’s foolish of him, but he liked to stand out here alone and emulate the noises by humming in the back of his throat.
The sounds soothed him when nothing else could. He had so many things on his mind these days that the music was just about all he could manage to focus on without going entirely catatonic. There’s Borderline and Memorie to think about; their safety and welfare were paramount, and he worried that Borderline would leave again with their daughter when he least expected it. Soon, he and Amarine would probably venture up the mountain as well in search of their shared quest for Taiga. Who would watch Cheri and Reynard, he wondered? Lilliana, his mother, had her hooves full currently. Izora Lethia had returned but was more withdrawn than ever. He couldn’t be expected to take the twins with them, could he? And he certainly wouldn’t leave them alone for gods knew how long.
Yanhua sighed, and the air blowing out between his lips sounded suddenly (oddly) like the high note of a whistling reed. He closed his mouth and arched a brow in confusion, but shook his head at the strange noise. There I go again, he thought, hearing things.
Or… was he? For a moment Yanhua felt silly for thinking about it, then the very next second he felt a tugging curiosity at the back of his mind. A nagging sensation to try again. His eyes, a soft blue, peered in one direction then the next to make sure he was alone, and then he cleared his throat to try again. Yan sighed, and the noise sounded exactly the same as it had the first time: just like the high, whistling wind over river reeds. Soft, melodic, completely unexpected and out-of-the-norm.
“Damn!” He laughed, wondering where the hell that’d come from, but his musing was interrupted. The sound of hooves approaching and the smell of horseflesh in the air turned his horned head aside, ears upright, in curiosity at who might’ve come to join his reveries.
And when all the nights feel like they're closing, You're leaving an opening
She had recently returned from journeying outside of Beqanna with her father and she hadn’t set foot in her homeland in a long while. Her father was often struck with wanderlust and she carried his same ever continuous thirst for knowledge of the world around her. Michaelis had always taken his children beneath his wing and indulged their barrage of questions of how and why. She hadn’t been a sheltered child by any means for Michaelis didn’t shield her from the darker sides to life, but she had been a happy child nonetheless.
The sunlight warmed her back while a cooling breeze tangled her dark mane across her neck. Considering her birth came about from an odd mixture of a spark of lingering magic and her father’s shadow tendrils, the blue roan girl always took the opportunity to enjoy the sunlight when she could. She continued to have a fascination with the brilliant rays of sunlight that had enthralled her from the very beginning. Her father rarely ventured out in the open during sunny days like these for his eyes were much too sensitive and it pained him greatly. So, she had left him to settle within the darkness that the forest provided (the shadows in their welcoming of Michaelis did not neglect to also trail exuberantly across her skin for they recognized one of their own kind), and she took the rare opportunity to follow along the river that trailed through the heart of this land.
As she came around a bend of the river and out from amongst the tall reeds that lined its banks, she thought she had heard something just ahead. Eager to investigate, she continued forwards and mismatched eyes of yellow and red soon were rewarded with the sight of a stallion just ahead.
A warm smile graces her face and she softly calls out a greeting to the stranger, “Hello!”
As she finally drew to a halt before him, she noticed he had horns and seemed to resemble a goat. She vaguely remembered her father speaking of a goat-horse before and she wondered if this stranger was perhaps related. She could only recall that the other’s name had begun with the letter “P.”
12-14-2020, 07:07 PM (This post was last modified: 12-14-2020, 07:07 PM by Yanhua.)
And when all the lights are broken, You keep the fire going
Each of them are, in short, only a fraction of what’s come before. Centuries of bloodlines fragmented and shared, some crossed over and tangled into new creations resembling their ancestors, yet not quite the same. Yanhua knows this, even if he forgets it more often than not. In the future, when a hundred years have passed and the restful peace of death never touches him, he may reflect on it more - but today he revels in a new discovery about himself. He has very little knowledge regarding his sire’s bloodline and where it stretches on either side, even less idea that @[isra] is correct in her musings: the stallion whose name started with a ‘P’ was Pollock, and he was Yan’s great-grandsire descendant through the female lines (on Wolfbane’s his sire’s side.)
There’s something of a dark side to his past, but the side he shows the blue roan mare when they first meet each other’s gaze is buoyant and characteristically friendly.
“Well hello, Isra!” Yan greeted her warmly, surprised to find another wanderer this far out. Make no mistake: he was happy to be interrupted! Especially when the interruption came in the form of a curiously sociable mare. “Yan; pleasure to meet you.” He introduced himself in turn.
As she’d taken a moment to look at his horns, so had he taken a moment to absorb her approach. Her pelt was mottled like the lichen-covered cliffs of Nerine, an array of white marks and spots in random order cast across a velvety blue-gray backdrop. She was smaller than Yanhua, which was typical of most horses he’d ever encountered, and though there wasn’t any distinction to her that belied a particular breed, Yanhua found her rather pleasant in appearance. He wasn’t the judgemental type, but neither was Isra uncomely. He could at least see that plainly. The stallion smiled.
“Is there something I could help you with?” He offered, ever the gentleman. “Or am I just lucky enough to have the satisfaction of your company today?”
And when all the nights feel like they're closing, You're leaving an opening
Beqanna was full of wildly tangled bloodlines – most boasting royalty of some sort within their long ancestries. But bloodlines were truly not important when it came to this ancient place; ancestors were easily forgotten within this vastly changing land and newcomers etched out their niche in history not by blood ties but by an individual’s actions instead. This land did not remember those who ruled nor who kept the peace it seemed. But those who violently changed its provisional borders were the ones whom legends were created and passed down for future generations to remember.
Isra didn’t really know much of her own ancestry. She was born of two fathers – a spark of lingering magic in the air combined with her father’s shadow tendrils accidently produced her and her sister. Thana had been taken beneath Offspring’s care while Isra remained under Michaelis’ care. Her one father was really all she has known in her life and they cared for each other greatly. But it was time for her to end her journeying with Michaelis and find somewhere she could settle on her own.
“I think that depends entirely on your definition of lucky. Is it considered lucky to have to endure my chatter on this fine day?”
She laughs after this – not afraid to poke fun at herself for she did sometimes not realize when to stop asking questions when her curiosity got the better of her.
“I guess you could say that I am re-familiarizing myself with this place. I’ve been away for too long it seems.”
A dark past did not even remotely plague the blue roan girl. She lived a blissful life journeying with her father, meeting all sorts of interesting people. She didn’t have strong ties to any one land not unlike her father whom seemed content to spend his days roaming the neutral lands instead of scrambling about on kingdom business. Isra wasn’t aware of the turmoil that seemed to hover over Beqanna continuously – ready to ignite into war and bloodshed at any given moment.
12-31-2020, 03:57 PM (This post was last modified: 12-31-2020, 03:57 PM by Yanhua.)
And when all the lights are broken, You keep the fire going
Her laughter won’t be lonely. Yanhua found the best conversations were the ones built on humor, and Isra had an acute sense of one. He appreciated the light prodding at herself, wished he could find the time to slip in more of it at home, but held out judgement on her so-called “chatter” for later, after they talked a bit. Truth was, he didn’t mind the company in the least bit. Isra was welcome to take his mind of the weird thoughts centering on his ability to produce musical notes. Whatever that meant.
“Well, let me be one of the first to welcome you back.” Yan sympathized, finding it hard to imagine himself displaced from Taiga for any expanse of time without good reason. He was only out here today to stretch his legs, really. Clear his thoughts up a bit. “Hopefully you’ve found the world agreeable so far?” He said, humorously.
How would it be, he wondered, to leave a place so well-known and loved only to return and find it mostly unchanged, yet so different from when you last visited? Familiar faces gone, old haunts overgrown, maybe some things out of place or forgotten by time. How sad, he thought. How bittersweet.
After a moment of quiet contemplation and listening to Isra’s reply (if she gave one), Yanhua asked, “Where are you from, originally?”
Before he flicked his golden tail side-to-side against lean, coppery haunches and peered out across the rapids flowing downstream. The hazy cover of mist just above its surface floated peacefully along, obscuring anything that might be lingering on the other riverbank. Visibility was low, but the sun still peeked in slanting rays of light between gathering clouds overhead. Tonight it would rain, perhaps.
He glanced back at the stone-and-sea mare with a soft half-smile, just studious enough to avoid being coy.
And when all the nights feel like they're closing, You're leaving an opening
If the blue roan possessed the ability to produce wondrous music, then she’d probably find it to be endlessly fascinating. She did not inherit her father’s shadows despite being made from them. Michaelis would never be truly lonely throughout his life for the tendrils ceaselessly vied for his attention and he generously gave them his affection in return. Of course, they accepted her as one of their own but when separated from her father, then she was all on her own.
Isra inherited his telekinesis instead of shadows, an ability that they both seemed to forget they had at times. It might be used to move debris lying across the various deer trails when travelling through the densest of forests or she might gently lift fallen baby birds back into their nests. In general, they were both pacifists – content to wander in search of pleasant company across the lands. So they both never found much use for an ability that could be useful in battling or defense.
She smiled warmly at his welcoming words before she accompanied it with a simple “Thank you” in return. His next question prompted a small shrug from her for she hadn’t much opportunity to truly reacquaint herself with the present Beqanna. “It is the same yet different at the same time. But, in time, I look forward to discovering the differences.”
She didn’t fear nor avoid change. The blue roan girl didn’t have strong ties to the politics of this land nor did she have ties to its people for she was but a young girl when they went away on their journey. She had her family, though small as it was, and she had her willingness to keep walking forwards in life without regrets or what-ifs to weigh her feet down. Isra was like a bird who had just accomplished its first flight, with strong wings to keep her in the air and a knowledge that she could go anywhere she wanted in life.
He asked about her homeland and she answered him in kind. “I was raised in the forest for a short while, but I spent the majority of my childhood outside of Beqanna with my father.”
Yanhua seemed a bit mysterious to her - he’s pleasant enough but seemed guarded at the same time. A contrast that Isra found to be intriguing considering she was an open book herself. She found it difficult to not show her thoughts and feelings on her face.
“I admit that I’m not knowledgeable of the politics of Beqanna so it might be silly of me to ask. But where are you from? Will you describe it for me?”
She answers his half-smile with an eager one of her own, pleading mismatched eyes of yellow and red directed towards his face. Isra wouldn’t pass up any opportunity to learn something new and Yanhua would have intimate knowledge to the current ongoings of Beqanna that would be difficult to learn on her own.
01-11-2021, 08:32 PM (This post was last modified: 01-11-2021, 08:32 PM by Yanhua.)
And how many, many differences there were to discover. Yan thought of that as he peered out across the tumbling water, of all that he’d seen and the greater majority of places that he hadn’t, and for a moment he envied Isra her ability to take flight and be off into the future without regret. To shed the current moment for a new one would be… bliss, he thought. To be more like Nashua, his twin; wild and free, alighting on the wind and giving it the freedom to take him anywhere, anytime.
But the reality of his life is a sobering and calming sort of reminder. He has Amarine and Borderline, and the tangled future of their lives that’ll keep him tethered to Taiga and her maze of towering redwoods. He doesn’t regret these facts: on the contrary, he leans into them like old friends. There’s something to be said about purpose and one’s place in the world, even if Yanhua couldn’t find the right words right this second.
He looked back at Isra. The forest? Yan could see the allure. She wasn’t the first to claim the stretch of woodland as her home and hearth, and he doubts she’ll be the last. Something about the property of common land is enticing to those who seek reclusivity without the demands of being indentured to any one leader. He’s well-aware that hundreds of horses have called the place their own, or marked out their little nooks there for safekeeping. It’s the following comment that surprises him most - Isra’s casual admission about living outside the realm of Beqanna. That was unusual to him, though he’d heard tell of it happening to a rare few.
Yanhua wondered what was out there, beyond the sea that enclosed their grand island-continent. He readied himself with questions to ask her, but Isra was quicker. No matter; Yanhua liked indulging her for the sake of keeping the mystery of the outside world alive in his thoughts. Better to have fantastic beasts running wild through his daydreams than to have them dispelled with boring truths.
“Certainly I will.” He laughed momentarily, delighted. Isra had pegged his interests early-on into the conversation. “Get comfortable,” He warned her with a shrewd grin, “this could go on for a minute.”
Where to begin? “Forget the politics - I usually do. I’m from Taiga, the place where the giant redwoods grow. We’re not a very… active sort of herd when it comes to outside drama with other Kingdoms.” His smile widened, sure that he was disappointing her on that end but Isra would have to settle for less. Nothing of real consequence (aside from Nerine’s burning) had happened recently. “That doesn’t mean we aren’t a target. Our motherland Nerine was recently assaulted. There was a band from Pangea - the dryland deserts - that raided Loess with fire and brought the flame north with them.” He explained, realizing suddenly that perhaps these names - Loess, Pangea, Nerine - might be foreign to her.
Briefly, he did his best to explain each to Isra and then continued.
“But Taiga, ah Taiga… what could I possibly say to surmise her glory? The mystic pull of the constant fog, the smell of pine and dewy thicket, her ghosts and reveries?” Yanhua sighed, tilting his head toward the direction of home and her myriad wonders. Isra could not rip the loving grin off his face if she tried, now. “I always feel an acute loss when I’m away from her for too long. And a complete handicap at explaining in words what could only be experienced in the flesh.” He waxed poetic. This was why he never took to the Field to recruit - he’d bore someone to death before convincing them to come home with him.
“You should come -” He tried anyway, glancing back to the pleasing mare and her conflicting stare, half one color and the other. “- visit and see for yourself. I make a much better guide than a storyteller.” He promised her with a throaty, robust chuckle.
