It’s been ages since he’s visited his old haunt. A small grove on the River’s edge, the ground lined in soft moss, thick tree roots growing in a circle around it so you have to step down into the emerald bowl of moss and fern. To his pleasant surprise it appears no one has found it yet, still. It is well hidden, but still not entirely inaccessible – as he can find his way to it. He tries to recall how he found it, pondering while he holds his nose to the green carpet puffing green glowing smoke through his nostrils while he sniffs at it. The display lasts only seconds before fading, only a bit of fun while he racks his broken memory…
Accalia. His breath seizes for a moment and his heart feels a small crumple.
She, like many, just disappeared one day. But before she did, they were together, and she brought him here. He remembers her fiery red coat, her adorable white stockings and her beautiful eyes. She was ‘plain’ like him, but so beautiful, one of the more beautiful women he’s had the delight of enjoying. The memory brings a string of other memories with it, like a train it cuts through his mind. A mix of distant pain, humor, happiness, and ecstasy surround the nostalgia; he pushes it off when it becomes a little to uncomfortable to keep remembering and lets his body fall on his knees and then flop to his side. Irisaen slithers out of his dreaded mane and onto the bright green moss bed, moving out of the way as Chem rolls onto his back. He takes a deep, clearing breath, staring up at the tree tops swaying in the sun and breeze. At some point he drifts off to sleep.
CHEMDOG
to the window, to the wall
open to anyone!
♥
he's having a little late morning siesta next tot he river in a secret little spot
found me a lover who could play the bass, spend the days dreaming and the nights awake
she brought the sugar and the mint
Minah may be the spitting image of Aletta, but it was Maren who gained all of their Glam’s fire, all of her ferocity. Minah may harbor Aletta’s eyes, may wear that coat of dark dapples that have changed beyond the black of her coat, but she had Brynn’s heart at the root of it. Soft, quiet, contemplative. While Maren lusted for adventure, Minah was content to watch the world pass her by as she built sandcastles and made bouquets. (and friendships bracelets she has place around Maren’s wrist.)
So it would seem strange to see the twin of grey than her dark counterpart.
Minah has done her best to try to forget many things about her childhood. The fact that they had been uprooted from their home, that her parents had passed away too soon. Sometimes, she could almost succeed, those cold desert nights with Maren wrapped around her, and Jay had come to visit. Liam was home and Tarian had not yet left. She can almost make it, can almost forget.
But Minah is no liar.
Not even to herself.
“Picture the River, and follow it, Orani says it will take you to Tarian,” Maren told her with a touch upon her dappling shoulder. “I wish you were coming with me,” she admitted (was it an admission still if this was so known?) “I know,” is all her twin says. Minah wanted her to say ‘I wish I was too,’ but it never comes. With a pop, her sister transports her from one realm and into another by the way of the winds. And with a spring breeze, Minah finds herself at the water’s edge.
Water.
It feels as if it has been so long since she has seen such a thing and of this great a size too. Suddenly, she is young, so young and her heart races with a wild adventure because maybe after all, she was still her father’s daughter. She runs alongside it, laughs and giggles, steadily silvering hair whips out behind her (“you’re like moonlight pouring from the heavens.” He told her.)
The sun is warm.
The water cool.
She whispers a secret into the babbling surface and prays to the winds it is carried to her brother. Like a game of hide and seek she tells it “ready or not, here I come.” But the sound of the steady rise and fall of warm, slumbering breath makes her realize, Tarian is not the only one hiding today.
@[Chemdog]
“ ready or not here I come….” her soft voice breaks into his dreams.
He’s in a jade forest, lush and newly sprung, wet with dew and bright with sunlight – wisteria dangling all over, purple and full of life. The air seems to sparkle and Chem can feel himself floating without his usual cumbersome mortal form. He is dreaming, and her voice reaches in so softly that it seems as if it’s been waiting there all along. So, naturally, he follows her voice and calls to her, “ I’m here!” he laughs childishly and begins to run playfully toward the voice, he breathing getting louder, his heart racing the closer he feels to the voice and suddenly he is snapped from the flowery paradise of his dreams and he’s back into the mortal world. He smiles, recalling what he can from his nap-dream, rolling onto his side and enjoying the lingering smell of wisteria flowers somehow still stuck in his nostrils.
His vision still blurry from slumber make him hesitant to recognize that the pale gray smear among the fresh green of the riverbank was indeed a mare crouched down looking at the water. She was aware of him, but wasn’t approaching. He sits up, blinking some clarity into his eyes, his ears stretching upright. Nothing but trickling river water and quiet breaths of breeze make a sound for just a moment. He doesn’t say anything, just watching her, staying in his lying down position with his head up, looking her way with his striking teal eyes.
CHEMDOG
to the window, to the wall
@[Minah] 
found me a lover who could play the bass, spend the days dreaming and the nights awake
she brought the sugar and the mint
Minah had never liked hie and go seek. She had not liked the idea of her family running away from her and tucking themselves into hiding spots that she would have to search for. And in turn, she did not like hiding from them either. It was more than once that Maren had found her, sitting behind a tree, with a tear clutching itself against her face. ‘It is just a game, Minah,’ Her father had told her. ‘Your family would never leave you for real.’
She thinks this may be the only lie her father ever told her.
The world smelled of wet wood and sod, and it settled in every nook and cranny, seeping into the pores of the meadow. Dew clung like tiny glass marbles to the leaves and moss, sparkling with wild abandon in the bright, encompassing glow of yellowed sunlight. Minah’s nostrils flitter as she breathes in the smell of the new land as she listens for the steady breathing a stranger. “A monster,” she would have said when she was younger (might even still say now) and Maren would have said “Go to bed, Minah.” Because even her twin knew that monsters were real.
Minah blinks and her eyes feel dry beneath her aching eyelids before that earthen gaze looks steadily around her. She catches something, a shape, maybe? A monster, she tells herself. Go to bed, Minah, her sister’s voice echoes inside her head. And then teal meets brown.
She should run.
But she doesn’t.
She may yet make her grandmother proud.
“Tell me your name.” Not a command, but she sounds like Aletta just then. “Please,” and there is that single syllable, is the sound of her other grandmother, the one who named her.
@[Chemdog]
08-08-2021, 01:49 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-08-2021, 01:50 PM by Chemdog.)
Teal meets brown…
His heart flutters when their eyes make contact, steady, but he can feel the thread-like fragility – is she going to run? The question ripples quietly through his mind, and so he does not rise to his feet, just sitting up like a hound in the dappled sunlight. He stays put, there by the flowing river, golden sunshine coming through in patches over his black and white coat. He whickers, a low rumble, that prominent snout held upright.
My name? he repeats the question to himself. It’s a bit surprising, the calm boldness she’s got. First, he thought she might flee like a deer, and now she asks so softly and surely for his name. He smiles, it isn’t the typical mischievous or maniacal, but warm. He takes in a deep clarifying breath and speaks up over the tumbling water; “ Chem.” his voice is clear and deep, but not particularly loud.
Irisaen comes slithering around by his tail, across the moss and over his kicked-out leg by his side. She slithers to move up his shoulder and rest across his back like she might a sturdy branch, flicking her black tongue at the mare’s smell wafting near.
CHEMDOG
to the window, to the wall
sorry you waited a millennia for this ♥ @ Minah
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