"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
The ‘Queen Illuminate’ had promised her a gift and even though she’s been waiting quietly for over a year, she has yet to receive it. It rankles her, just a little bit. She had been promised something, something that she desperately wanted … and now it’s been denied to her. Power and influence had been just within her grasp, and now she’s left grabbing at empty air.
She’d stayed away from the Valley out of spite at first. The kingdom did not deserve her presence if she was going to be denied what was hers.
But, gradually, she had changed her mind.
Even if the magician had not held up her end of the deal, it doesn’t mean that there’s nothing for her here. Rumours of the new regime in the Valley have reached her ears and she’s sure that, with it, will come new opportunities. The new ruler will no doubt be wanting to surround himself with powerful, useful horses.
She might as well avail herself.
She slinks up to the border at midday and against her instincts, stands out in the open waiting for someone to approach. Normally she would hide away in her shadows, but just this once, she wants to be seen. Not that they’ll think much of her when they do - as always, she cuts a rather unthreatening figure. Her short stature and delicate frame make her seem like a fragile little doll.
He’s been lurking in the Valley, as Demian told him he could do. He has spent the time both learning the kingdom and this strange new gift of his. He can wrap himself in darkness, which is quickly becoming his favorite little trick. Mostly because he can hide the pretty pretty princess coat, which the demon did not change. Everything else about Rhonan was changed after the dreams, after his many lives (he will never be certain). As he lurked through the Valley, he caught glimpses out of the corner of his eye of his gray friend. Noah, just out of sight. Like he wants to be seen but cannot. Sometimes he sees Gero or Azula, but it’s usually Noah. It’s almost always Noah.
Maybe they are there, stuck between one dimension and the next. But no, that’s can’t be. They are dead. They may never have been alive. He still doesn’t know. He rarely sleeps, but of course, when he does all he hears are screams. Gero, as Azula ripped the flesh from his skin. Noah, as the horde descended. His crow, in that short moment before it fell out of the sky.
He’s been mostly solitary, but the visions of his dead friends are starting to drive him a little mad. They don’t come when others are around, and so he decides today perhaps he should seek someone else out. There’s a small little black female on the border, waiting to be greeting he thinks. He has no business greeting newcomers, but that doesn’t stop him from making his way over.
He doesn’t go because he looks like easy prey (he looks like a fucking pretty pretty princess with his white and gold coat, so he doesn’t judge by looks). He doesn’t go because he thinks she’s pretty or because he thinks he can be of any use or because he senses the darkness within her. No, he simply goes because he cannot keep seeing Noah lingering just out of sight. He wants his friend back so badly, wants to be the one who died instead. But his friend is dead, and Rhonan cannot bring him back.
So instead he greets the girl with a nod of his head. Shadows cling to him, masking most of the gold so he looks more black and white than anything else. He does enjoy this, not looking like one of the Amazonian mares. He enjoys being plain and boring, though of course, having shadows on his back makes him less than plain. It is better than gold, though. Anything is better than gold. “Rhonan,” he offers. “Can I help you?” As if he can actually help. But he’ll pretend. Why the hell not?
Who knew what pulled Thorunn from the cracks of obscurity.
Her mother and father were dead. Her twin sister long gone. Thorunn was alone with only the Valley as a companion, which wasn't much until recently. She is still so young, still so mistaken about the way the world works. In her mind the new king would live up to his promises and the Valley would prosper once more. Wasn't that how these things worked? Yes? She knows so little, she's still so naive to think these changes can occur by the arrival of a single creature.
Thorunn, still so young.
But she's pulled herself from the blanket of her own loathing and went about her duties.
This is when she realized she had no duties.
The difficulty of this new task was interrupted by the flutter of voices just across the crest. She turns her penny-colored ears to the sound, following it until she wanders upon two horses she doesn't recognize. With the influx of new members to the Valley she's unsure if they're diplomats or potential members. Either way Thorunn could maybe help. Possibly.
"Hello," she greets. She's adopted her dead father's deadpan voice that is both quiet but strong. She doesn't smile (Covet never would have smiled), but rather nods her head. "I am Thorunn."
09-04-2015, 02:18 PM (This post was last modified: 09-10-2015, 05:00 PM by Rhynn.)
she slept with wolves without fear
It doesn’t take them long to spot her.
The first to approach is a stallion, young and completely disinterested. She gets the impression he’s only come to her for something to break his monotony. But she finds him far more interesting than he finds her. For beneath his seemingly ordinary exterior, is something she recognizes all too well.
Clearly she’s not the only one well versed in shadows.
The darkness embraces him like a lover, hiding the simple gold coat beneath. She almost smiles at the coincidence. In all her life she’s never met another creature quite like herself. Funny that she should meet another in her first few moments of joining the Valley - perhaps the Queen Illuminate had known more than she’d let on when suggesting she come here.
“Rhonan.” She rolls the name around in her mouth, tasting it. She will remember it.
She’s almost considering revealing herself to him, exposing their similarities, when the sound of another set of hooves stops her. She eyes the approaching chestnut with some interest, though loses it when she realizes that mare is, to her eye anyway, rather ordinary. She is polite though (it would not do to make enemies so early on), and nods in greeting. “Hello Thorunn. I am Rhynn.”
Her eyes can’t help but travel back to Rhonan, following the line of shadows that caress and hide his golden coat. She feels a twinge of something … odd. Is it bitterness? For so long she had thought she was unique. And now here is clear evidence that she is not.
But no matter. He might share her talents with darkness, but they cannot be the same. Differences will no doubt become apparent soon enough - different strengths and weaknesses, differences in desires. There is no point in dwelling over what she cannot change.
“I would like to join the Valley.” She will make her own way, with or without the Queen Illuminate’s ‘help.’
you say I'm crazy, but I think I'm freaking amazing.
I had been walking along the border, making my rounds when I heard the voices up ahead. One I recognized as the young boy that had come to see if the Valley was worth his time, Rhonan, and the other two were two mares I did not recognize in the least. Though in only a few yards, I would come to recognize one as the chestnut girl who had stood at the back of the group with Eight when I had gathered the kingdom together to start a new chapter. Disappointingly enough, I had not gotten to hear her opinion nor meet her yet. But now was good enough a time as any.
Slowly I made my way towards the group, stopping enough of a distance behind them to stay out of view but still hear and watch them converse. I silently approved of Rhonan and Thorunn's difference in approaches before looking towards the mare their attention centered on. Her frustration with whatever it was that was bothering her was evident enough in the way she stood at the border and watched Rhonan. Her thirst for whatever she wanted was enough to draw my gaze and keep it glued on her until finally I heard her wishes.
"Well then we shall gladly have you," I allow my voice to be loud enough to be heard from the spot I chose to observe them... And with that I slowly emerged from the treeline that decorated the border, my wings pressed closely against my sides as I stepped up next to Thorunn and nodded at both her and Rhonan in greeting and approval. "Rhynn, I'm Demian, King of the Valley. Welcome." Slowly I look back to the newcomer and catch her gaze with my own and hold it steadily. "I can see these two have already done the welcoming though." Chuckling softly to show he meant no harm he rolls his shoulder in a slight shrug and allows himself to relax momentarily.
Like her father she is a bit awkward, maybe too tight lipped, and not entirely grown into her own personality. She's young and spent so much of her childhood as a mirror of the black, orange eyed many-time king that she's unsure of her own reflection. She pauses deliberately before any and all interactions, mulling over her thoughts.
WWCD - What Would Covet Do?
She nods to the new mare, acknowledging her wishes and her name. Would father have said more? She feels uneasy at the sudden realization she never saw him in the diplomatic sense, only the war sense. She knows how he'd fend off a potential attacker. Useless in this situation, the mare seems more interested in the boy that first approached. Thorunn is acknowledged but mostly dismissed, which brings great calm to the copper colored girl. She's out of her element entirely.
Then the new king appears and she feels even more out of place. He steps close to her and, against her own wishes, she feels her hooves shift to take her just a few steps away from him. Something about the closeness feels strange and unwelcome. It never occurs to her whether he'll take offense or not, and she's not sure if she cares. The meeting solidified her opinion as this: she had no opinion. She'd learned (not from experience, but from the concerns of the others) that actions speak louder than words. Well, here was his chance.
It’s becoming a fucking party. He’s not a fan. The shadows swirl around him slightly, covering more of his coat. He’d go back to hiding in them if it wouldn’t mean that Noah would come back, lingering in the corner of his vision. He misses Noah. That’s the problem with everyone else. They aren’t Noah. They don’t walk in perfect, contented silence with him. They can’t say everything without ever saying a word.
They certainly wouldn’t fight for Rhonan. Wouldn’t die for Rhonan. Not that he had deserved either. But Noah hadn’t cared. He simply did it.
He still wasn’t sure this current life of his mattered. He wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t just crumble beneath his feet. Had the demon really sent him home? Or was this another dream, another life, another whatever all that hell had been? He was also afraid to get too involved with anything. It would just be ripped out from beneath his feet anyway.
The one filly called herself Thorrun, and he has absolutely no idea that they share a father. Rhonan doesn’t look like Covet, except the orange ring in his otherwise brown eyes. Though they share the same skills when it comes to social graces. Rhonan is slightly less awkward than he was as a child, but still, he’s never been big on words.
Demian, on the other hand, speaking from somewhere to the side of the group, is quite the diplomat. It suits a king, which Rhonan only just finds out at this introduction. It changes nothing. Rhonan isn’t going to start bowing or any such nonsense.
Rhonan, for his part, has barely registered the way Rhynn looks at him. With some level of interest and annoyance. Even if he had figured this out, he would be mostly confused. Not at the annoyance – everyone should hate him, he’s destroyed everything he’s ever touched – but at there being any level of interest in him. There’s was nothing interesting about him.
Actually, there was nothing interesting about this entire meeting. He’d be far more interested if he knew Rhynn was like him, but he has no fucking clue, and this entire thing is becoming super awkward. Demian welcomes her to Valley and so do Thorrun. So what’s he supposed to do? Hey babe, lets go fuck.” The thought crosses his mind, only because he thinks that’s exactly what his twin would say. Tytos, so damn full of himself, and so damn sure of everything.
Rhonan nods at Demian, and then finally, finally notices that the black girl has been paying a strange level of attention toward him. “What?” he finally asks, without any social grace at all. Good thing he’s not King.
She’s still watching Rhonan when the second stallion approaches. Her dark eyes swivel to inspect the newcomer with admittedly little interest, taking in the broad, dark wings, and the unusual bright spots covering his coat.
Her interest is peaked however when the stallion reveals himself to be Demian, current king of the Valley. “A pleasure to meet you your majesty. I appreciate the welcome.” She inclines her head in a show of respect (and briefly nods at Thorunn’s welcome). This is the stallion she will need to keep an eye on if she is to get anywhere in the Valley. Not that she plans on joining the ranks of their soldiers or diplomats quite yet - she will bide her time first, get to know the kingdom and it’s inhabitants … and its king.
However, her eyes can’t help but travel back to Rhonan, passing over the quiet Thorunn in her curiosity towards her fellow shadow-spinner. Such a strange coincidence to find another here. Is he as strong as herself? Or even stronger?
But unfortunately he notices her curiosity. Damn. She’s usually far more subtle - his presence has put her off balance.
Her mouth tightens into a hard line at his comment. He’s revealing himself, and far too easily - he’s nothing more than a petulant child. She’s half-tempted to respond with a cutting remark, but she holds it in. It would not do to make such a first impression on Demian. Speaking of which … she had originally intended on hiding her ability, but now that she thinks on it …
Why not make a lasting first impression? Both on the king and this boy. She’s not here as the Queen Illuminate’s hidden pawn any longer - she’s here to make her own way.
“I was simply surprised …” She grins. And the grin begins to grow.
Her body sprouts, or at least it appears to, growing larger and larger until she is taller than even Demian. Her grin splits into awful, toothed smile. If any of them look closer, they will be able to see the dense shadows swirling at the surface. Rhonan should recognize them instantly. “I’ve never met another shadow-spinner before.”
The awkward, quiet boy and the newcomer girl seem to have hijacked this meeting. Way to go, Rhonan. he thinks to himself. Not that he cares much what the others think, but more because he’s suddenly the center of attention and he hates that. He prefers sulking about alone, but he can’t take Noah constantly in the corner of his eye. But then again, when others surround him, he finds himself hoping Noah will show as well.
It’s horrid and strange all at once. How can he want both things at once? But oh, he does. So maybe he is a petulant child, but wouldn’t you be petulant too with someone staring at you? Truthfully, he has no idea he’s being bad tempered. He doesn’t know how to be any other way. His head is too full of the lives he’s lived and the world’s he’s destroyed simply by the sheer fact that he exists. By the fact that he was always two seconds too late.
He watches as she changes. Her control over the shadows is masterful. In truth, he doesn’t even know if he could rid himself of the shadows that cling to his coat. He keeps falling through other shadows, rather than actually controlling the teleportation. But his trait is new, no more than a few months old. It is the only proof he has of the lives he’s lived (were they all different lives, or did he just dream it?).
Her grin grows, and then her body. He knows these are shadows, not even because he’s looking that hard but simply because he knows. Ever since the demon, since the end of all things, he’s understood darkness in a way he cannot explain. He understands it. He just cannot control it. “How?” he practically breathes the question, barely making it a question at all. But oh, maybe this girl can help him. Maybe he can stop falling through shadows already.
Beneath the shadows she grins wickedly to match the shadow self. She’s clearly gotten his attention.
The boy reveals himself even more more, gaping at her, and asking ‘how.’ He must be young in his ability, untested and untrained. He hasn’t had the years of experiences that she has. She could have fun with this, could use him, mold him …
Perhaps. She isn’t the Queen Illuminate, she doesn’t need a network of servants strategically placed throughout the kingdoms. Her ability is enough on its own to gather information.
But the idea is tempting.
At the very least though, she can help him. It’s unusual of her to think beyond her own self-interest, but she feels drawn to the child (despite his earlier petulance). She feels like she should, at least, help him understand the power that he carries.
“You have to give in to the shadows, Rhonan. Become them. Do not fight.” She inhales deeply, drawing the shadows back in to herself. She’s once again a tiny, delicate mare. Taking in the shadows is an intoxicating feeling. It’s so easy to her - like breathing - but clearly he’s struggling.
She suddenly remembers Thorunn and Demian. Though Rhonan is the one holding her interest, she doesn’t want to be rude. “It seems that I could perhaps help Rhonan here. Perhaps we should take our leave of you?” She smiles politely. She doesn’t want to leave if there is something else they would like to say, but it seems unlikely that they will.
