"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
I'm telling these tears, "Go and fall away, fall away."
May the last one burn into flames.
This land had changed greatly in his absence – yet it still retained remnants of the Beqanna of old.
As an adolescent, he had abandoned this land that had held nothing for him but bitter memories. Until now, Lestrade had never looked back. He had certainly grown from a gangly teenager to a tall, leanly muscled adult in that time. But a once petulant boy had matured into a jaded adult and Lestrade still walked about life as if a heaviness weighed upon him. He hadn’t really learned how to cope with his losses, and so, his trust in others around him had quickly became stunted early in his life.
The mint and violet stallion surveyed the river with a great reluctance. He still didn’t quite understand the recent nostalgia that had relentless settled within his heart – the only reason he had returned back to this place. Perhaps it was the unanswered questions that still lingered in the back of his mind, or maybe it was that the nomadic lifestyle had grown stale for Lestrade. He had no roots to keep him in one place, no blood to chain him down with familial responsibilities.
He was all alone in this world – a self-imposed isolation kept him from forming bonds with others. Why bother placing expectations on someone when they will eventually leave you behind? His mother had disappeared behind a magical wall of fire and was never to be seen by a few days old Lestrade again. His self-appointed guardian had remained distant but had made sure to place him somewhere safe during the war. But Lupei had up and gotten himself killed, selfishly leaving Lestrade behind and ignorant until he heard the startling news from a random passerby. That’s when the boy-almost-man made the decision to leave this cursed place behind him.
And yet here he stands once more.
His quiet reverie is broken by an overly enthusiastic greeting directed towards him. He swings his head towards the voice to spot a pair of mares eyeing him with undisguised interest. Was it really so difficult to ask others to ignore his garish coloring because the next thing he knew, she followed up with a horrific pickup line “What’s your name? I think we were mint to be!” His violet eyes narrow in disgust and he snarls an eloquent “Fuck off!” to the startled pair before he angrily slinks off away from the river bank and towards the lush meadows.
It was becoming a little too crowded for his taste.
His intended destination was the large oak that resided close to the river. Perhaps he could find some relief from the citizens there while the others relished the sunshine and cooling effects of the swollen waters behind him. All he wanted was to sulk in peace and then figure out his next move. Was it time he willing joined society once again or did he continue living this stagnant lifestyle he had created for himself?
Lestrade was sure he would have to ponder this question a long while yet.
12-06-2020, 05:52 PM (This post was last modified: 12-06-2020, 05:52 PM by Narcisus.)
On the Island there was only so much to do. To others Islanders was a paradise, but as the days blended into weeks I found it to be less of something to be discovered and more like something that was starting to hold me back, which reminded me of my days spent in the adoption den. I hardly bothered Aedan anymore; he’d fulfilled the purpose of giving me a home and since then, I’d only been practicing how to leave it again. Aedan himself had never mattered in the first place: what mattered was that I had somewhere and someone to use as an anchor. I only needed the security of Islandres and belonging there, and I had certainly never wanted an adoptive parents pitious love.
Aedan’s other children were pathetic, anyways. I never played nice with them and soon enough they got the picture, choosing to avoid me altogether. The older I grew the less appealing games were and the more I wanted to use my magic instead, but I had been told (more than once) that the way I used it was ‘unacceptable’ and ‘unfair’, which I thought was utterly stupid. That was the point of it all, couldn’t the others see that? I wasn’t like them - I didn’t beg for things, I demanded them. I got what I wanted, one way or another, and I liked the way I could sometimes force others to do my bidding against their own free will.
No creature that swam through the bog’s murky depths or flew through the gaseous air was safe. If I wanted them to sink, to land, to come when I beckoned them ‘come’ they had to listen. And the most enjoyable thing of all was that I could feel myself getting stronger each time I practiced. So strong, in fact, that the dumbest creatures of the earth weren’t fun to command anymore, and I’d been forbidden to practice on the inhabitants of Islandres since they didn’t like being bothered, so here I was in the common lands instead. That’s where I’d first seen him: the ugly stallion. I hadn’t thought much of him aside from being grateful that I looked nothing like him, but he’d caught my dark attention when a little mare approached him and he promptly told her to “Fuck off.”
I laughed to myself about it, and then left the throng to follow him covertly as he wandered away.
He shuffled off toward an oak tree and I wasn’t secretive about approaching him, airing out my wings and hopping on black hooves through the chest-high grass. “Hey loser,” I taunted him, smirking, “You shouldn’t let bitches talk to you like that.”
Stopping, I turned away from him to focus on the little mare who’d upset his sensitive feelings. For a second nothing changed, then she went rigid and started jerking her legs sideways. Her head was turned back to the group she’d been a part of, the expression on her face clearly disturbed and almost frightened. Her friends beckoned her back but I only burrowed deeper into her with my gift, allowing for my eyes to go white and pale with the effort of controlling her legs like a marionette toying with his puppet. Off she went, further and further, until she was splashing into the river against her will and whinnying for someone, anyone, to help her. One of her friends tried bravely to pull on her tail but it was useless - I dug harder, deeper, and watched her sink further into the water until her head was entirely submerged.
Then I let go, laughing.
Eventually she surfaced again, though by then I’d already turned to look back at the lonesome poser, my face entirely twisted with arrogance and a sick, dark mirth.
I'm telling these tears, "Go and fall away, fall away."
May the last one burn into flames.
He sometimes pondered the thought that he had been cursed by the gods at his birth. It would certainly explain some of the happenings throughout his lifetime. But it would most certainly explain the fact that he seemed to attract absolute weirdos to his side for some unfathomable reason.
Kingslay had been the first to violently interrupt his life, ripping him from his mother’s side by a magical fire barrier. The Chamber had been full of many other monsters and Lestrade had taken great care to remain out of their way and out of sight. Unbeknownst to him, even his self-appointed guardian had also been a monster – setting the jungle alight with white hot flames and beginning a war could be considered a monstrous thing to do. He also carried with him a deep suspicion of ravens for the queen of the Chamber had used ravens as a source to do her bidding, spying and bringing her back information from all corners of the land.
He trusted birds about as far as he could throw one and their beady little eyes didn’t help their case whatsoever.
Before he could completely escape from the river bank, another voice called out to him but this time it was insulting. Lestrade stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed heavily for a brief moment. He debated whether it was really worth the effort to engage or if he could ignore the stranger and keep moving forwards. He decided that this one would probably turn out annoyingly persistent and it was probably best to try and nip it in the bud now rather than later.
Opening his violet eyes, he reluctantly turned towards the voice behind him. It was a winged colt who had had the audacity to call him a loser – a colt who was busily fanning his wings and doing funny little hops that essentially allowed him enough clearance to see over the tall reeds that surrounded him. Oh god, a shrimp was currently taunting him.
But the boy turned his attention away from Lestrade and towards the earlier catcaller. The mint stallion watched blankly as the mare violently flailed and began to drown in the river while frantic onlookers attempted to rescue her. Meanwhile, the boy’s eyes had changed colors and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that this shrimp had somehow taken over the mare’s physical body and forced her into the river to drown.
Lestrade had watched apathetically as the mare finally emerged and was left to her own devices once more before returning his violet gaze back to the boy. The buckskin boy looked proud of his accomplishments, like the mint stallion should be grateful that he had even interfered and now owed him a favor for his kindness. It was like watching a train wreck, where you couldn’t take your eyes away for fear of missing out on even more destruction.
The colt boldly asked for his name after all that, like he had merely been out for a pleasant morning stroll instead of attempting murder.
Lestrade was definitely cursed.
Mint and violet must be the mating colors for monsters because it was like he couldn’t go anywhere in this place without running into one.
His gaze sharpened and there’s a slight growl of irritation to his voice when he answered the boy.
“What’s it to you, pipsqueak?
If one showed the slightest hint of fear to a monster, then they’d be running roughshod in no time flat. Lestrade had learned this lesson early on in his life and he stubbornly stuck to his aloof façade in hopes that they’d move on for easier prey.
Lestrade
mint & violet son of lupei and azlyn.
@[Narcisus] everybody is out to get this poor mint bby
There’s being cursed, and then there’s knowing what to do with a curse. I wouldn’t look at Lestrade and think him guilty of any curse at all, aside from the curse of having a terribly unique-looking coat (which was putting things nicely.) He wasn’t visibly different from any other horse I’d come across. No horns or spikes, no serrated teeth or claws where hooves should be. He neither sparkled nor shone, and if there was any trait hidden inside of him that I couldn’t make out, then he was doing an excellent job of keeping it hidden. No, I thought of him, he’s the sorry type, not the dangerous type. Sorry enough to be harrassed by the weaker sex, mangy enough to unfriendly, but otherwise? I felt like I was looking at a pathetic excuse of a wet rock. Just a solid lump of half-formed insults.
“Pipsqueak?” I laughed, undeterred. Whoever this stallion was, he was itching for a swim down the same river I’d dunked his ‘friend’ in moments ago. “Ooo - big man, I’m so scared.” My eyes rolled.
“Lighten UP, for the god's sake.” I sighed through my wildling smile, picking out a few stray meadow grasses from between the weave of many-colored feathers in my wing. “It’s called-” I mumbled childishly, pulling my head out from under the crook of my bent flapper, “-courtesy; but I doubt you have any.”
What a bore. What a lump of oddly-green coal he was. I hated him, and yet there was every pleasure in annoying him for the sake of seeing how far I could go. Maybe he’d snap and use his powers on me, and then things could get fun around here for once.
“I’ll teach you, Big Man. My name is Narcisus: NAR-SIS-US.” I repeated the word slowly, so it could filter into his tiny, tiny brain. A grin was plastered all over my face, my ears had lowered and I’d taken an aggressive step closer to him and his little oak tree. He could tuck tail or double down on that aggressive approach, and I was itching to see if he’d pull a rabbit out of his purple-spotted hat.
I'm telling these tears, "Go and fall away, fall away."
May the last one burn into flames.
Lestrade liked to play it cautious most days; carefully avoiding any confrontations with those he considered to be dangerous creatures, which admittedly fit the bill for many of Beqanna’s residents. But he wasn’t afraid to put up a tough guy front to those who stubbornly persisted in invading his personal space. Perhaps he could be labelled as a con artist in this way. He didn’t possess any special abilities of his own – just a scathing sharp tongue and quick wit, but it was enough to allow him the ability to maneuver himself into a manageable enough position to intentionally throw others off and hopefully gain him the advantage in the situation. He didn’t start fights nor did he finish them per say, all he hoped to do was get out of them alive and relatively unscathed.
He played a long game – carefully considering his next move as if it were a game of chess.
The shrimp didn’t cease in his attitude nor his almost feral aggression, perhaps willfully ignoring all the nonverbal cues that Lestrade had blatantly displayed during his unwelcome approach. Go away! couldn’t have been announced any louder across the pathway to the other, but yet still the mint and violet stallion suffered this pipsqueak’s onslaught of minor insults.
It didn’t seem as if this boy was going to be leaving any time soon so Lestrade was going to have to stubbornly dig his heels in and weather whatever storm may come his way.
Despite the shrimp’s obviously bad attitude and murderous tendencies, he still seemed like a petulant child and Lestrade’s mouth almost twitches in amusement when the other hypocritically calls him out for not possessing any courtesy (ignoring the fact that he just took over another’s body without permission and then tried to drown her against her will. What a perfect gentleman!)
Lestrade gives the pipsqueak a saccharine smile, “Well Squeak, I guess we both have that in common. Besides common courtesy won’t help you survive in this world.”
Pipsqueak takes an aggressive step forward in hopes of a reaction, but Lestrade stiffens, brings his head up higher, and eyes him warningly. He wasn’t about to turn tail and run, that would merely entice the monster boy into a chase and Lestrade would rather go throw himself into the river behind the boy than give anybody the satisfaction of chasing him down. Holding his ground gave him more of an advantage because the other wouldn’t know if he held secrets close to his chest or not.
This was a game for the bold – who would be able to suss out the other first.
Narcisus persisted in his quest for gaining his name and Lestrade allowed him this small conquest but it was accompanied with a reluctant sigh.
“I’m Lestrade.”
Lestrade
mint & violet son of lupei and azlyn.
@[Narcisus] this kid's insults are killing me tho ahahahaha
There will be plenty of time in the coming years for me to hone my skills. Maybe I’m still a bit small, maybe I don’t have the presence of an adult stallion, perhaps my vocabulary is lacking and my insults are weak, but someday I will be threatening. Someday, my smile will be perfectly cold and calculating, and one look from my strange eyes will stop another horse dead in their tracks. I want that for myself. Lestrade was only a stepping stone.
He tells me what I’ve already come to know, anyways, further proving his uselessness. What good was common courtesy in our world when it was filled to the brim with power-hungry freaks? The kind and gentle-types were out of their league here, and history proved them to be the losers every single time they clashed with darker forces. I personally see no need for light hope in an already dark and demented world. I see no point in playing nice when being cruel and wicked will get you so much farther in life.
Lestrade - that’s his name, this weird and hideous horse - Lestrade and I are toe to toe on the issue. He clearly sees what I am, what I’m capable of, and when I’ve stepped forward to see if I can push him towards either the light or the dark, he holds his ground and stares back down at me with a warning glace. I stop; not because I’m afraid (I’m not afraid of anyone), but because I’ve got the answer I was looking for anyways.
He may look like a pussy, but he wasn’t one.
Good for him.
“Hpmh.” I shrug, causing my wings to bob. “At least your name isn’t a total trainwreck.” Is the nicest thing I can think to say. “What’re you doing out here anyways? Why don’t you bugger off home or something? Stop inviting undesirables into your life?” I ask him, cocking a heel and settling in for a short conversation.
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