"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
Spring was here and Kestrell was pretty damned determined to spend the rest of it far away, on Ischia’s outer isle. The little circlet of land and tangled jungle was situated right between the volcanic Kingdom and her lesser territories, making it the ideal bachelor’s getaway during foaling season.
No worries, The large drake pegasus sighed and sank deeper into a freshwater pool, just some sand, sun, and the occasional Kelpie.
Closing his eyes, a small grin flickered across his mouth at the thought. The last time he’d encountered one of those water scum it’d tried dragging him by the neck into the ocean. It had nearly succeeded, too, were it not for a stroke of luck and a well-aimed kick at the thing. Kestrell came out of that situation bloody but mostly unharmed, and he hoped the sea monster had learned a valuable lesson.
Pegasi were not very easy to drown.
The stallion flicked his ears around, nonchalantly. The chittering of parrots mixed well with the heavy, almost oppressive humidity, and after a moment or two of listening to them babble on, his thoughts began to drift.
He wondered what Tinkaara was doing these days. The little half-zebra nightmare was probably running around Beqanna right now, giving some unlucky bastard an earful. Pinko, his best mate and a magical oddity, had most likely slipped off the continent entirely. Dek had followed him all the way to Tephra, which had surprised Kestrell since he’d been the quiet one of the group, but in the end it’d been nice having some company.
All in all, it’d been a mostly successful season of raiding small herds.
Kestrell spread his wings to prop himself up and breathed deeply, content. Next season, he thought, we should try to catch some larger fish.
She had been born into a relatively sheltered life, and she really had no reason to leave it other than she eventually outgrew it.
While she was incredibly similar to her mother, the paths they walked diverged greatly. Starsin had been born and abandoned, and had spent most of her life proving to herself—and everyone else—that she was not worthless, that she was not something anyone who met her could so quickly forget or discard. Stargaze never had to worry about being left behind, and has always known exactly who she is and where she comes from.
There was a dangerous edge to her, the same that had existed in her mother, only their foundations were different, and it was impossible to say if this meant she was an improvement on Starsin, or if she was meant to be something worse.
Stargaze flits now through various parts of Beqanna, nothing but a spinning, twirling cloud of glittering dust. She has been on her own for awhile now but she has never settled anywhere, though she did spend a considerable amount of time on the outskirts of Loess, since it was the setting for many of her parents’ stories.The kingdom was lovely in its own harsh, unforgiving way, but so far she did not see what set it apart from all the other lands.
And now, flooded by water after the unforgiving earthquake, she suppose she no longer has to worry about not seeing what her mother had seen in it.
Her millions of fragments reflect in the afternoon sun as they arc through the sapphire-blue sky in a series of fluid movements that eventually lands her on a lone island somewhere far to the west, further west than she had yet traveled. In a sparkling flurry her body begins to turn solid from the hooves up, until she is standing on the golden sands of the jungle island with the turquoise waters behind her. Her bright blue eyes scan her surroundings, and while the beach was pristine and inviting, it is not what draws her attention. Her steps instead take her further inland, and she begins to think the place is uninhabited until she comes across a lone stallion resting in a pool of water.
She is not a kelpie, but the smile that curls at the edge of her dark lips is sharp enough all the same.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she drawls lazily in a way that implies she is not actually all that concerned with interrupting him at all, resting her shoulder against the rough bark of a tropical tree as she appraises him with an open stare. She wears her natural coloring—the brilliant blues and sea-greens of labradorite shot through with cracks of black—and in the heat of the island sun the frost that coats her skin hovers on the brink of melting. Much like her mother, she was born knowing she was beautiful, and it shows in the self-assured smile that never quite leaves her lips. “You look like you’re working awfully hard.”
Kestrell was surprised that he hadn’t heard someone approaching. He was usually better than that. One of his eyes popped open lazily, the other stayed firmly closed, and he took a brief glance at the undeniably attractive mare that hadn’t been there seconds before. With an appreciative grunt, the male pegasus closed his eye again and smiled. Surprised or not, she was definitely pleasant.
He wasn’t the type to get his feathers ruffled, even if she had interrupted the beginning of a long-overdue vacation. A vice of his was feeding into the confidence of strangers, knowing well enough that most everyone could send him to an early grave, and his first impression of the bluish-green female was that she had enough confidence to spare for the both of them.
Good, he thought. The last thing he wanted was to be bored to death.
“You’re welcome to join.” Kestrell’s voice rumbled pleasantly. “They say hard work turns easy when you break it down into smaller tasks.”
The very edge of his mouth shifted in amusement.
“I’ll relax, you rub me down… then I might be inclined to return the favor.” He suggested, expecting her to be offended or amused. Sometimes, his bouts of dark humor got him into more trouble than he could handle.
The image of her in his mind’s eye told Kestrell she was exactly that: more than he could handle. That smirk, her stance, and those eyes of hers were a dangerous combination, and for a second or two he pictured the feminine shape of her legs dipping into the water beside him, causing him to shiver. Unable to relax, he turned instead to stare at the strange, lovely creature without a hint of shame.
His brow lifted expectantly. Coming? His grin seemed to ask.
She never really knew how a stranger would take her forward and bold nature, but thanks to equal parts overconfidence and naivety, she was rarely worried about it. While she had not inherited her mother’s mind reading or her father’s dragon attributes, she had not been left without her own devices. Because, much to her mother’s delight, she had inherited Starsin’s most explosive ability, and Stargaze had grown up honing her skill by shattering various objects around Silver Cove. It was intoxicating, the rush that she felt every time a seashell or piece of driftwood was reduced to dust by a mere tilt of her head or blink of her bright blue eyes.
She had never harmed a living creature, of course, but she could not deny that she was intrigued by her mother’s more vicious use of the trait. They had all been out of necessity, Starsin had assured her—Casimira for attacking Ophanim, and Ghaul for his slaughter of Jenova and later attacking Ophanim and Malone.
Admittedly, there was a small part of her—that naive part—that was reckless with strangers because it opened the door to the opportunity to just see what it’s like, to shatter something that is alive.
But the stallion before her seems relatively harmless, or at the very least, not likely to attack her.
That was a real letdown but she lets the disappointment roll off of her, and she responds to his offer with a humored laugh that still never quite lost its sharp edge. “Nothing is getting rubbed, I promise you that,” but the simper that lifted at the corner of her dark lips suggested she could perhaps be persuaded otherwise. He was handsome, and she was not blind to the way he looked at her or that roguish smile of his. It had been awhile since anyone had succeeded in charming her, and she enjoyed flirtatious banter just as much as anyone.
She wasn’t going to reject him entirely, but he couldn’t have a prize without playing at least a little bit of the game first.
“I can’t get in the water, I’ll melt,” she says in response to that suggestive grin of his, though she has already slipped forward and was now standing just at the edge of the pool. Extending a slender foreleg she lowers it into the water, and just as she does she allows that single leg to dissolve into fairy dust, before pulling it back and placing a solid hoof on the ground. “See?” she says with an all too innocent smile and eyes that glitter just a little too bright. “Made of pure sugar.”
02-10-2022, 10:11 PM (This post was last modified: 02-21-2022, 01:35 PM by Kestrell.)
Seemed like mutual disappointment was on the menu tonight, Kestrell thought. Nothing was getting rubbed, she’d told him - and he had no reason to doubt that sultry, sharp tone of voice. That was fine. In the same way as her, he could deal with smaller letdowns. Not to say that anything about her was permissible; given the chance, Kestrell might be inclined to muster up a “yes ma’am” if she barked out an order at him.
He might even like it.
She came ‘round the oddly-shaped bathing pool while he watched, all shimmery under the faded light of the jungle canopy. He studied her, taking notice of the way her pelt shifted color from shadow to sun and how the black streaks of her markings shot through the hazy blue-green. She could’ve done laps at that point; Kestrell was more than satisfied to simply watch her move.
The dame stopped cold instead. Very nice, Kestrell laughed at the back of throat, observing the single leg she offered for show and how it was dressed so nicely in a black stocking. His smile lingered afterward, even when the energetic snap of his eyes refocusing on her face felt more… intense. This time around, the rosy tint was as cutting as her tone.
“Can’t have that, can we?” Kestrell asked sarcastically.
He pushed off from the bottom of the pool, deep enough in that the majority of his body had been obscured by the dark, green-tinted water, and held both wings just above the surface on his way toward her. Near the edge where she stood, Kestrell pulled himself up and out of the lagoon, trailing water wherever it could flow freely between the hard-cut angles of his body.
Sopping wet, the bald-faced stallion was perfectly content not shaking the excess water loose. It only served to highlight the angle of his oblique shoulders, the gentle rise-and-fall of his thick chest, and the lean curve of his belly - supported by an equally fine set of flawed yet sturdy legs. Weathered scars on his knees, cannons, and even forearms gave the pegasus a rough-and-tumble look.
“Something that sweet begs to be tasted,” Kestrell sucked in air between his teeth, “but -” he tilted his head, troubled.
“- I’m afraid you’d be susceptible to melting from the heat, in that case.”
No, he shook his head, nonplussed as if to say, that won’t do.
“I’m not built for the wilting rosebud types.” Kestrell sighed playfully, perhaps a bit longer than necessary.
His attention turned suddenly to the infinite maze of jungle surrounding them, as if the flora could possibly be more interesting than what was playing out right now between them.
“And you’re right about one thing, I admit: it’d be downright dangerous for us to rub anything together.” Kestrell relaxed, dripping casually. “Who knows what could happen?” He muttered under his breath, not the least bit sly at flicking an ear to hear her speak.
She watches him with a small but appreciative smile as he pulls himself from the water, making no attempt to hide the way her eyes are following the glistening rivulets that flow along every curve and angle of him. Something like want twists somewhere inside of her, a flush of heat that rushes beneath her skin, and she tries to stifle it. She has played this game before, but never with anyone that seemed to know how to play it back. It added a different depth to it, a certain kind of thrill that she could nearly taste on her tongue—or maybe that was just her imagining what he might taste like on her tongue.
“No, I’d be inclined to agree that you’re not,” she concedes with a coy smile, though she says nothing in regards to herself; she is certain he knows good and well that she is no wilting rosebud. And even if he is having any doubts, he will learn the truth soon enough.
With slow, deliberate steps she closes the space between them, that same smile still settled on her dark lips. There is a pleasant shiver that races up her spine at the way he says the word dangerous, a spark of something unnamable alighting in her arresting blue eyes. “I have a small idea,” she says in her lilting murmur, close enough now that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted—could find out what he tastes like underneath the water that still glistens there. The way her lips hover so close to his shoulder it almost seems like she might, watching him carefully even though he is watching the trees.
From beneath the want that continues to brew, something else rises, a beckoning of just a small show of her power; the urge to shatter a nearby branch—a kind of visual representation of the two of them and the resulting explosion that would come from their collision.
Something to turn his attention back to her, where it belonged.
But she tempers it, surprising even herself, and instead all she offers him is her name. “You didn’t ask, but my name is Stargaze.”
Kestrell heard the muffled steps of her hooves elegantly placing themselves one after the other. He could sense her nearness, (as his head was turned away, eyes distracted by nothing in particular) and likewise felt a pleasurable tingle of excitement under his skin at the thought of her being so near to him. The brute was just that: a brute; incapable of dumbing down the playful, boyish grin that seemed to suit his face so well, Kestrell gave up his interest in the jungle and turned to catch a glimpse of the mare’s nose hovering right beside one of his wings.
From his viewpoint there was no avoiding her loveliness. Where faults normally could be found, she had none; her face was pleasing to view and even prettier up close than he’d given her credit for, and instead of giving off heat she radiated a snapping cold from her skin.
He wondered if her ideas were similar to his, in that very moment, and hope softened his otherwise incorrigible manners. He could be patient when given the chance. Grateful, giving, and thorough had been some adjectives thrown his way after all was said and done.
IF that was what she wanted, Kestrell smoldered. He was getting ahead of himself.
“I don’t question good luck when it comes my way, Stargaze.” He laughed once, short and sweet.
Long ago he’d learned not to search where he wasn’t wanted, and Kestrell had found great success in sticking by that rule. There were some things he could do without ever knowing, but in hindsight he’s glad she decided to introduce herself.
“I’m Kestrell.” The smile wouldn’t fade.
He thought of how their names were suitable, unlike some of the more varied and nonsensical ones out there. She was named for the heavenly bodies and he a flying creature, and both of them seemed to fit those apt descriptions.
“I’m also more than willing to commit an entire evening to your ‘ideas’, if you’ve got some.”
