"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
Beqanna may be quiet nowadays, but you know who's not quiet?
Layland. Layland isn't quiet. Never has been, never will be. Ain't in his playbook or wheelhouse or any of those other weird places that emotions and manners are stored. He's also never seen the need for storing emotions, when you can just let them out. Let the world know what you're up to instead of leaving them guessing, ya know? He's also never really seen a need for manners, so there's that. Manners are boring, and a hot pink tobiano DUDE can't possibly be boring.
It's never steered him wrong, anyways. Or maybe he just hasn't been steered. Steering would mean being conscious of avoiding collisions, and Layland has always been more of a go with the flow kinda guy, collisions or not. Or be the flow if you can't go with it. Either way, avoid steering. Unless you're gonna let Jesus Take The Wheel, he's probably OK at steering.
Today, Jesus steers him right to the Meadow. The few faces here are minding their own business, but remember what I said about Layland and his lack of manners. He doesn't slink in, nor does he saunter or slip. Thats what quiet, mannerly horses do. No, he charges. Like those poor stupid domesticated horses that do the weird dancing thing, he plows forward, knees high and his magnificent plume flag flying behind him.
(I told him no one calls a tail that anymore, but the fool insisted, and who am I to tell him no?)
It isn't hard for him to find an empty spot to stop. The whole place is pretty much empty. But either how way, he slides to a stop, putting every effort into being as dramatic as possible. Again, doing stuff that the stupid domesticated horses do, just better than them 'cause hes a wild and free hot pink guy. They clearly learned from talented individuals like Layland himself, they were just too dumb to run away from two-leggeds.
So basically, if you want to talk to a fabulous relic about the olden days and his love and admiration for female rappers, then Layland is probably your guy! If you enjoy talking about serious world matters, anything related to Carnage (Layland is not-so-secretly terrified of him.), or the weather, he is not your guy.
OOC - Blame peer pressure for his return. Seriously, he's an absolute fool. Proceed with that knowledge in mind >.<
You know who also is not quiet?
Krieg.
She has been described as power hungry, selfish, self-centered, racist, rude, brash, lazy, and dozens of other undesirable descriptors. But never, not once in her life, has she been described as quiet.
After dumping her newest spawn off in a land that felt like her Lord and Savior - Carnage - she made her way across Beqanna until she happened upon the Meadow. Still quite exhausted from birthing the child who had sucked the life from her the entire pregnancy - a son, it was always the boys who brought her trouble - she stopped to rest. This new Beqanna was fascinating. She had seen some remarkable things in her endless travels. Horses of all beautiful colors and with magnificent, jaw dropping traits. She should have been born in this day and age, she'd probably have been happier.
Instead, she was a vile green color with no visible traits and only the ability to take and give life. Although she was not technically immortal, she could steal away the youth of others. They got older and she got younger. They died off and she continued to live, taking up space and air that they would very likely make better use of.
While resting and pondering what she should do with her life next, she caught sight of a flamboyantly pink and white stallion sliding to a halt. Her curiosity piqued. Her adopted daughter, Elite, the wild and destructive girl who was able to summon Carnage and started a war, was also flamboyantly pink. She had hated being pink while Krieg thought it only added to her magnificent status over all others - including her biologic swamp green son who had only ever caused trouble. Boys, it was always boys.
Unfortunately for Layland, Krieg does love Carnage. To the point of unhealthy obsession. When he burned the Valley down, it had singed his mark onto her chest, and she wore it proudly. A white C with markings swirling around it. Some may know what it was, others may not, but she would happily tell you about it and how magnificent her Dark God was. As for female rappers? Krieg doesn't know anything about that topic of discussion.
"Well, well! Look at you!" She called out, wandering towards him with a smirk across her green features. "Aren't you quite the specimen?"
Like flies to honey, they start flocking to him. By they he means her, but he knows more will come. Honestly how could they not? Flies love honey!
(Flies also love dead things and shit, but I won't tell him that and neither should you.)
If they had been standing in a swamp he probably would have screamed, thinking her some sort of swamp monster, but luckily they are in The Meadow. The hub of their land, if you will. Home to vagrants and vagabonds alike.
(He isn't sure which he is, because he isn't entirely sure what those words mean. Honestly we could fill a book entitled "Things Layland Doesn't Know" by Layland The Hot Pink Tobiano STALLION. He would definitely include the stallion part, in all caps, just like that.)
Being in The Meadow means he doesn't mistake her for a swamp monster, though. To the contrary, her ickiness just kind of...blends in. He would liken her color to puke, though he himself has never puked. Odd design flaw, that. Swift as the wind but can die of a simple belly ache. Evolution truly does like her little jokes.
Sorry, SQUIRREL!
"I am many things, and chief among them is a Specimen, yes." he says, nodding his head in agreement. The motion sends his Hot pink tresses flying. (Thats the fancy word for mane, for you plebians who don't know fancy words.) He eyes her from top to bottom, never lingering too long in one spot. That would be unbecoming of someone who is "quite the specimen", but he does have an appreciation for the female form. Even one thats the color of a stagnant, mosquito filled swamp and has a suspicious looking scar on her chest.
Luckily, Layland can't read so he doesn't know that the C stands for Carnage, else he'd tuck plume and run for the hills.
Instead, he cocks a hind hoof, content to be lazy and nonchalant and overall fabulous. "And you mi'lady, you are certainly something yourself. Hopefully not sick? The last time I saw someone your color, it was mostly in their face and they were about to blow chunks. Is that your trait? Puking?" he asks with a tilt of his skull. He himself doesn't have any traits, but puking would be a cool one.
Krieg would probably fit in well with swamp monsters, although she would strongly disagree with any suggestion that she is gross. Death and decay were once her potpourri. And there was nothing wrong with that. NOTHING. She was still beautiful and perfect and special when she smelled badly.
She watched the specimen with curious orbs eyes as he nodded, tossing his pink tresses mane about wildly. There is something off about this one. She's not sure what, exactly. Krieg should never be one to judge the mental stability of anyone considering her own mental state and rotten personality is a hot mess wrapped in puke green wrapping, but judging is her favorite thing to do. She'll judge anyone and anything. That tree over there? Puny. The bird in the sky? It should learn how to fly better. Krieg? She's perfect.
She mimics his relaxed motion and also cocks her hind dagger hoof. Sick? Never been sick a day in her life. Except recently when that creature she had just given birth to had tried sucking the life out of her every night. "No. I'm not sick." the word sick came out of her mouth in a hissed tone, slightly annoyed at the thought she could be anything but perfect. "This is just the color I am. Which is better than some stupid brown or grey. I'm blessed." she frowned at him. A bellyache would never do Krieg in. She's too stubborn. These other peasants may kick the bucket from a silly belly ache, but Krieg was above them.
A trait? Ah yes, a trait. Krieg has a trait. Of course she did. In addition to being better looking than the regular, boring beqannians, she also had a trait. Because she's better. If she were a human in the 1600s in America she'd have been burned at the stake as a witch. "No. That's not my trait." She stated confidently. "I can steal the youth of others and make myself younger. It's why I'm still young and beautiful after hundreds of years." She could also give away youth, but that would make her older. The only situation Krieg had ever considered aging herself up in order to provide another with youth was during war when she had turned the elderly young again to fight. She was too selfish to ever consider even giving away 5 days of youth otherwise
"I'm going to outlive everyone" And she probably would. Even though a bellyache would kill her off despite her confidence she was above all of that nonsense. She wasn't immortal, just witchy.
For the sake of Beqanna, it's probably a good thing Layland doesn't have a trait. While it would certainly only add to his overall flair and fabulous-ness, he also couldn't be trusted with that kinda power. Piss him off? Poof, turned into a toad. Accidentally bump into him? Avada Kedavra, or whatever Harold Pooter said. Even something as mundane as wings. Nah, he'd get great pleasure in flying around and shitting on some unsuspecting victims head.
Checks and balances, my dear, checks and balances. For every do good'er, theres an absolute menace. Layland is most likely a menace. And by most likely, I mean when you look up the word "menace" in dictionary, Mr. Webster thought it was best to put Laylands stupid looking mug right beside the definition.
With her coloring, he thinks its quite fitting that she's a leech. She tries to church it up with some fancy schmancy words, but Layland has a nack for looking through the bullshit. A puke green leech, thats what she is. But she's a woman, and thats really all it takes to captivate our hot pink idiot. Clearly, she's more woman than hes used to but he is known far and wide for biting off more than he can chew.
(Far and wide isn't very far, but Layland is nothing if not egotistical. Its easier for the rest of us rational folk to know the truth and leave Layland to his own thoughts and beliefs.)
"Easyyyyyy girl, I didn't mean anything by it. The ability to puke would be MOST impressive." he says, giving her a stupid wink to match his stupid grin. "But I do agree, you're definitely young and beautiful. Very...earthy." Again, with the wink, just the opposite eye this time.
(I've tried telling him the winking is creepy, but he says its how he always draws the ladies. So to him I say "Go On WiTh YoUr BaD sElF")
"Me personally, I don't have any traits other than this banging coat color. Which is fine, cause as you said, I'm a SPECIMEN." he says brightly, even though she didn't ask. He knew she was going to and figured he'd be a gentlemen and save her the trouble. Everyone ALWAYS wants to know about Layland.
If Krieg were any smarter, she would have likely been an absolute terror to society. Fortunately, she has always been lazy and definitely not smart enough to run around doing any conquering. Instead, she raised an army of powerful children that she hoped would do it for her. It had fallen into shambles, of course, and Krieg had ended up god knows where doing god knows what until now.
A leech is the perfect descriptor for Krieg, but don't tell her that. Slimy, relies on others to live, inherently gross and obnoxious. If Layland is pictured next to the definition of menace, Krieg would fit perfectly next to leech.
leech (noun)
an aquatic or terrestrial annelid worm with suckers at both ends. Many species are bloodsucking parasites, especially of vertebrates, and others are predators.
a person who extorts profit from or sponges on others
Yep - fitting.
She gave a half frown at his wink. Krieg was never one to be charmed. She did love flattery, though. She'd lap up compliments and inflate her ego in any way shape or form she possibly could. Earthy? Whatever. Better than being sick. He winks again and she decides that the compliment of being young and beautiful was enough for her to shrug off the ick she got from his weird eye movements. "Yes. I suppose earthy will do." She said with a little upturn of her nose. "Being sick is for the weak." She decided out loud, not caring whether he agreed or not.
No trait? Figures. Men. What are they good for other than creating children they forget about and leaving you high and dry (never mind that Krieg just ditched her most recent kid within hours of being born). "Mhm, yes, quite the specimen." She said, tilting her green head a bit to look him over again. Pink, white, loud. "So, what do you do, other than parade about loudly?" Again, judging where she had no room to judge. What does Krieg do other than parade about lazily?
Not a damn thing.
"Why is Beqanna so damn quiet. Where is everybody? I've seen approximately two horses in the past week." And one was her kid she dropped off in a random kingdom she'd never even seen before. The second being Layland. All of the above led Krieg to wonder if there was a plague and they were all dead. Which was fine. She never liked any of them anyways.
A more...cognizant individual would see this conversation for what it was; A dumb ass with a flair for dramatics, being subtly insulted by a puke green leech of a mare. But Layland isn't cognizant, at least when it comes to matters of insult. (How could they possibly insult him? He's *perfect*) In addition to his startling pink coat, the Gods also crafted him out of whatever substance they coat ducks with. Not literally, of course, because that would probably be a trait, but everything she says slides right off of him. While he doesn't know what either material is, he supposes he's probably rubber and she's glue. -insert shrug emoji here-
(Not literally glue, he's funny, not morbid for God's sake)
He's glad she agrees with earthy. He's running out of acronyms (is that the right word? He's not a grammar buff -shrug-) Her inquiry makes him smile though, and if he had a top hat he would grab it, swirl it, and then fold at the waist in a spectacular bow. He doesn't have the head for a hat though, but he still drops one dainty foreleg underneath of himself, his flaring nares pressed to the ground. "Why, pray tell, would I do ANYTHING else, when I prance and flounce so wonderfully?!" he says. Nay, he EXCLAIMS. SHE may be a stick in the mud (stagnant swamp mud at that) but HE is all THAT and more!
Her sour countance does nothing to dissuade him. Call it blissful ignorance maybe? Or just plain ignorance is probably fine too. Layland has never let a bish piss in his cheerios, and he doesn't intend to uncover his bowl now!
She does, however, commit her first mistake. You see, Layland has of course noticed how quiet Beqanna is nowadays. He has made some effort to be noisey, but clearly, it hasn't been enough. But now that Mrs. Earthy Swamp Puke herself has spoken, he decides right here and meow to take it from a 3 clear up to a 10. Max volume. Wide open. Skinny pedal MASHED.
"It IS!" he gushes, beginning to circle her as an idea forms in his pea brain. "Whadda ya say you and I make some noise?! Annoy the locals. Shake the dust off! Do you happen to know any songs? Besides being a Specimen, I'm also something of a songster. Everyone says so." he says with a shrug and a smile. Balancing on the very tips of his flints, he waits for her response.
(He's literally a liar. He's never sang, and if he had, everyone would probably tell him to STFU before they called in Carnage to curse him into oblivion.)
It would probably be in the best interest of beqanna for a lightning bolt to strike them both dead, or actually turn them into glue, but alas the skies are clear and they're still wasting oxygen together.
Carnage bless it all.
The curious pink and white creature drops into a bow and Krieg immediately brightens. He SHOULD bow to her. Even if he isn't actually bowing to her, she'd never believe anything else. They should all bow to her, ridiculous boring traitless creatures. He then loudly exclaims that he is prancing and flouncing wonderfully and her bright smile fades to a dull, blank stare as her ears pin back a bit. "Mmmhm...right... Wonderfully..." She muttered, slight disdain coating her words. She decides for a split second that she has had enough of this buffoonery and should really find someone more worthy of the air she surrounds herself with when things go from 0-60 before she can even pick a dainty black hoof off of the ground.
He begins circling her which causes her to tense. You see, Krieg's main purpose in life was committing shmurder in the name of Elite and Carnage to bring him back to the Valley - which he proceeded to light on fire. It was fine - really. BUT she does not like to be circled like prey. She is not the prey. Krieg also can't fight to save her life, but she does know she could zap the life right out of the circling clown if she could just get her hooves or something on him long enough. She prepares to lunge for him but is stopped, again, before she can pick up a dainty little hoof by him EXCLAIMING they should make some noise because beqanna is too quiet.
IT IS TOO QUIET.
She relaxes when she realizes the pink creature is not circling her as prey but following the loop in his brain physically and mentally. They sure could make some noise. Maybe they could find the valley and start up the death pit again?! Bring Carnage back or burn another kingdom down or do something. She sighs and smiles at the memories. Those really were the good old days. She's ROCKED out of her daydream by Layland proclaiming that they should sing. Sing?! Krieg does not sing.
"I suppose you singing could be quite a...distraction." She muttered, trying to find a way to make him useful to her. "You could distract everybody while we took over a kingdom, I suppose. With all of that..prancing and singing." She doesn't consider that Layland probably doesn't have her power-hungry god complex. She thinks over the idea in her head while keeping half a watch on the wandering stallion. "We will need some brute force though. Some grunts. I don't want to scuff my coat or hooves." She said with a frown, extending a foreleg to appreciate the acidic green color. "Does the valley still exist? I have TRIED to find that damned place but cannot find it."
For the most part, Layland is too unaware to be afraid of much. But the things he is afraid of, are the type of things that would make The Hulk, He-Man, and Hercules himself trimble in their too-tight spandex manpanties. In order, his greatest fears are:
1. Ladybugs and/or stink bugs. Not that they DO anything, but they stink and are incredibly gross, thankyouverymuch.
2. Penguins. "Flightless Bird" is the type of oxymoron he just can't get behind. They have stumps for wings, and waddle about like some type of possessed toddler. Penguins are a strong blend of "surely not" and "hard pass".
3. Carnage. (He said if you need an explanation for this one, you deserve to have your eyeballs plucked out of your skull before he turns you into a statue and throws your granite self into the cosmos.)
At her mention of brute strength, he can't help but turn his velveteen kissers southward into a frown. He is many things (a speciem, fabulous, pink, sex monster) but a brute he is not. He is sleek like a cat! His only strength is his quick wit and stunning personality, and of course his skills in the boudoir. So he does have 3 strengths, but they still aren't the type to do much good in a battle. "I'm afraid that brute strength is not my forte, my sweet green girl. While I am of course MANY great things, battle-born is not one of them. I too have an impeccable coat to maintain." he says with a flourish, though what brain cells he has are spinning furiously in his head.
There are 2 at most, and thats on a good day. I digress, though.
"Hmmm...The Valley, you say? I think it fell into the ocean, or shriveled up into dust, or something like that. I haven't heard anyone mention that scary place in many, many years!" he says with a shudder. CARNAGE had ruled The Valley, and therefore Layland stayed as far away as horsely possible from that wretched kingdom.
"Instead of trying to go somewhere that poofed into non-existence, we could just claim..." he pauses, sweeping his gaze over the meadow, "THAT! That pine thicket looks like a great kingdom. We could call it Kriegland. Ya know, Krieg + Layland?" as if she needed an explanation. "We could sing there, and dance, and just be the spectacular specimens that we are."
Noone in their right mind would give Layland keys to a kingdom, but that didn't mean he couldn't craft a set of his own!
layland
@Krieg ooc - it just keeps getting more ridiculous lmao
Krieg could probably get behind being afraid of ladybugs. They smell and they're everywhere and they STICK to everything. Perhaps fear isn't the correct word, but irritation would fit. Penguins and Carnage, no, no she wouldn't be able to agree on that.
Again. Krieg is obsessed with Carnage. Unhealthy. Mental institution level of obsessed, really.
She frowned a bit when he mentions he does not have brute strength. It wasn't surprising, not in the least. Krieg didn't imagine a singing, prancing, pink stallion was overly tough but surely he could be useful somehow. "Ah yes I didn't assume you were battle born..." She replied watching him curiously and giving his pink and white coat another thorough once over. Sure enough, she didn't see a singular scar. Krieg sighed, tossing her green head in the air to look to the sky. She would figure something out.
Layland states that the Valley is gone. Gone somewhere. Krieg frowned and stiffened. The Valley COULDN'T be gone. Impossible. The greatest kingdom in Beqanna couldn't have just vanished.AND THEN Layland calls it a scary place?! She reeled a bit at that. "Scary?" Her mouth hung slightly agape as she tried to gather her thoughts, attempting to decide if it was an insult or a compliment. Obviously some had called it scary at one point when they were sacrificing left and right into a big ol pit in the ground, but it wasn't scary to Krieg. It was HOME.
Before she could come to a conclusion whether it was a compliment or an insult, Layland was onto the next bright idea. She whipped her head to look at the direction he had indicated. Simple pines stood tall against the sky. "Kriegland." She repeated with a small laugh. It was nothing special, but it could definitely be a start. "I mean, there's nobody else around doing anything productive. It could be a start." She nodded and turned, ambling towards the thicket of pines while thoughts tried to culminate a plan in her scheming head. "Yes, this could definitely be a start."
Krieg bumped her hip against the bristles of a pine tree and turned back towards Layland "I will not be doing any singing." Her eyes traveled up the pine trees towards the blue sky and then back to the pink and white creature. She lowered her nose and carefully picked up a small, mangled pine branch - more like a stick with a couple of needles, stepped towards Layland and stuck it "carefully" in his mane. "King Layland!" She shouted and gave a snort as she pawed at the ground.
