"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
Weir hadn’t yet visited the hills, well the ones that housed the pool. The place that was gifted to the Dale by the fairies, the magical entity of sorts. He had heard from the others, where it was, what it did; yet he hadn’t gone there. He went everywhere but there, even when he had been avoiding everyone dealing with his grief. Taken the long way around it, no matter how out of the way it was. He told himself that he was too busy, that there were more important matters at hand, he told himself these things so that he would not have to go. He didn’t know what he would see there, didn’t know if he wanted to know. Of course he was curious, as he always was, but he wasn’t sure he could face it. His soul.
Was he something unexpected inside? Something he would not wish to see, to accept? All questions without answers, and slowly these thoughts tugged at him.
It had been hard, do not mistake that, for him to stay away. He was a curious creature, he enjoyed new discoveries, new information. He enjoyed very much to have these things on hand, things he could pluck at with his thoughts to aid or assist him in some way. This one though, this pool of souls he would call it, it worried him. Mostly because he didn’t know what he would find there, it could be any multitude of things, endless combinations to a lock. Perhaps something he expected, maybe it would be something he did not anticipate, some part of him he had not yet come to terms with. Did not yet recognize within himself. Today though, he gave in, he had decided it was time. So against the snow he trudged, making his slow way towards the hills.
It was decent enough today for the trip, the snow was not blowing ice against his skin. The sun did its best to shine through the cloud cover, which helped to warm him, along with his winter coat.
Unlike Weir, Ramiel is a frequent visitor to the mountain-stream.
He’s been utterly enchanted with it since the day it appeared in the kingdom. The mystery of it makes him feel like a boy again, a puzzle meant to be solved, even if he has no idea how to do so. He’s mostly charmed by the creature that seems to inhabit the waters. It has grown since he first found it, peering back at him with its beady, expressive eyes. Back then, it had been little more than a ball of fluff, indistinguishable as any sort of proper animal. He half expected it to turn into a monster like the ones at the end of the world, even, so strange was its shape.
The grey stallion doesn’t know if the others ever venture up there. They’d talked about it, of course – everyone seemed to know that all the lands were gifted in different ways – but everyone was tight-lipped about the whole affair. Ramiel wonders if, like him, they’re worried it will not last. As the years have passed, he’s grown rather fond of the animal that appears to him. If it and the waters that nurture the creature were to disappear, he thinks he’d even miss it.
He makes the trek now, on this overcast, chilly day. It’s quite a journey up to the hilltop, but he is glad for the exercise and fresh, mountain air. A sudden movement just above him puts him instantly on guard, considering his recent thoughts of losing their source of power (they’ve been instructed to care for and guard it, after all). But a familiar flash of red puts him at ease. “Weir!” His voice is hoarse and loud, echoing more than he’d intended. Somewhat sheepishly, he hurries to catch up to the other stallion.
It’s been a while since they’d had a chance to talk one on one. The last time he’d seen the quirky man, he’d been forced to flex his authority a bit, silencing Weir from further offending the Gates party. He hated having to do it, and he considers apologizing before thinking better of it. Doing so now will only undermine the fact that he’d needed to chastise the roan at all. Better to move on and put it behind them. Ramiel smiles at the professor. “I didn’t expect to see you up here. Not your usual scene.” He’s never seen Weir up here, in fact, though he must know what’s at the end of the path. “Have you come to see the pool for yourself? You won’t be disappointed.” He winks, conspiratorially. Nothing else can make him like the boy Weir first met than their telling-pool. He feels like a colt about to show off his hidden copse-fort to his best mate.
Ramiel
ghost king of the dale
ooc: feel free to join in anyone else! I just had a lot of muse...lol
He starts, not because he was doing anything wrong, but because he is beside himself at the moment. He had been rather caught up in his worry, his analyzing of himself that he hadn’t noticed the grey stallions approach. He just hadn’t been looking for it either, and is a mess with surprise. Now there was no escape. He thought maybe he might just walk up and look at the pool from afar, then he could say he had seen it. Perhaps he could have just gone around, was it worth the trouble?
That would not be in the cards for him today. Ramiel approaches, greeting him as he climbs the slope. Weir hadn’t felt quite so exerted, but he had been doing a rather steady crawl; nothing to cause him to become winded. He turned brightly to his King, “ Oh, ahhh yes it is so. I thought for a moment perhaps I might have a look.” He gives explanation rather sheepishly, after all, he had been on the brink of turning around. Or at least, not going as close as he had originally intended. He sighs for a moment, whisking away his excitement of being caught red handed doing..well, nothing. “In truth, I was considering turning around.” His ears fall joining his unsure attitude. “What will I find up there I wonder, what is my soul, would I like it? Or worse, maybe I won’t have any at all.”
These were all possibilities if you asked him, he was certain of it, he had done the math. “But I could be disappointed, I might even prefer disappointment. What if there’s something nasty looking back at me? What then?” He looked straight ahead, eyes wide as he delved deeper into his thoughts. At the last part he even pulled his head back, as if the very thought shocked him. He hadn’t considered that one yet, he was surely in for a surprise one way or another. Why is it lately he was always thinking something bad was about to happen?
WEIR
The Dale's Eccentric Magic Manipulator
as above please feel free to jump in Weir is just being cooperative today, didnt want to waste that ^_^
in the morning when I wake and the sun is coming through, oh you fill my lungs with sweetness and my head is filled with you
It was a chilly morning and even hiding herself in the forest couldn’t keep her warm. Puffing cold mist from her nostrils at the effort, she takes her swollen figure out into the open. Muscles flexing and tensing, trying to warm herself up with a bit of exercise. She can’t keep the trot up for long, warming up a bit but exhausting herself quickly. Her neck arches as she swings her head around to give a forlorn look at her growing belly. It was really slowing her down, a sitting duck really if a predator was lurking about. With a sigh she slowly maneuvers herself up the side of one of the rolling hills. It takes her a moment and she is even more tired once she reaches the top. The view is worth it though, rewarding her with it’s quiet serenity. It also brings her to Ramiel and a stallion she doesn’t know.
”Oh!” She exclaims breathily, trying to regain her stamina after the climb. She shyly turns herself in a way that she hopes hides most of the extra curve in her barrel. She’s not sure why it makes her so nervous for Ramiel to know she was with child. By a shape shifting stranger no less, an encounter that was pretty much blurred. Perhaps the amnesia was catching up with her. ”I’m sorry to intrude if you are busy..” She gives them a thoughtful look, taking in the boyish expressions on their face. ”What are you two up to?” She asks curiously, peering out from her snowy forelock suspiciously. They almost seemed up to no good.
Weir seems hesitant when he answers. The play of emotions on his face is obvious, more readily apparent the closer Ramiel draws to him. It’s weird though. Usually, the roan man would be up for anything unusual, anything strange. He’s always the first to give an explanation or a name to any and all phenomena the Daleans come across, after all. But today, faced with the greatest mystery of all (or so the young stallion believes; it’s certainly the greatest to him) Weir is reluctant to try and solve it for himself.
He stumbles over his words, and had his son’s recent death not been in the back of Ramiel’s mind as the cause for any strife, he might have laughed out loud, thinking him in fine form today. Instead, he listens to the other’s explanation. It shouldn’t surprise him that the roan is so sensitive but it does. He worries what the pool will show him, what creature will be reflected when he meets his soul for the first time in the flesh. And while most would go running at the chance to see it for themselves – like Ramiel had – Weir thinks maybe it won’t work for him, that he won’t have a soul, even. At this admission, the king does chuckle a bit, unable to hold it in.
“You are the last person I’d worry about being soulless.” He considers it for a moment then amends, “well, after Elysteria that is. I think she’s more an angel than my father.” A smile pulls at his lips as he regards the worried stallion. He follows and makes friends with the turtles for goodness sake (probably names them too, Ram thinks, his smile growing at the thought). “Like a badger?” He’d apparently interrupted one from its important duties when he came around a copse of trees one time. The animal had hissed at him and bared its teeth, not backing down until the grey had moved a good distance away from it. He’d always wondered if they were so mean or if they were simply misunderstood. He shudders at the memory before looking back at Weir, shaking his head. “No, I don’t see it.”
He’s still trying to decide what, exactly, his friend’s soul will look like when they are joined by another. Her breathy oh catches his ears, and he turns quickly, a sheepish grin curving his lips. “Soliel! Uh, Weir and I were…” He’s distracted by her belly for a moment before he realizes he’s staring. When had that happened? Spring is right around the corner, and hopefully it comes quickly, because the white mare looks as if she’ll pop any moment. He wonders if she’s remembered someone, wonders if they’ve reconciled enough to cause…this. Still a young boy in many respects, he tries not to be embarrassed by her pregnancy.
He looks at Weir for help, but plunges in anyway. “We were going to see the pool. It shows your true soul.” He hopes the older man will take over from here, will fill in what little information he himself has given. Why is he so embarrassed by such a natural event? Could it be that he’s somewhat jealous that the mare had turned to another so quickly after he’d helped her? Perhaps his pride is wounded more than anything at finding out that Soliel is pregnant. Whatever the case is, he doesn’t want to linger in the feeling. “You’re not interrupting at all. Come see for yourself.” And with a last faint smile, he moves the rest of the way up the hill and into the clearing beyond, hoping the others will be right behind him.
His head shakes away the compliments, of course his King was too kind sometimes, just too kind. He had convinced himself that he should prepare for the worst, should be ready to accept some dour fate. A badger? Why yes exactly like a badger! A severe beast, terribly territorial at times, nasty when provoked. How awful for it to be a badger indeed! Ramiel just continues to shake his head as they move along, surely adapting to Weir's cautious pace. Easy does it, slow and stead winds the race after all.
He was intrigued maybe a bit by the lads apparent excitement. Like this was some sort of grand adventure. Maybe he was right, not everyday that one would look at their soul, or even have the opportunity. Was he being a fuddy duddy? He set his chin and gaze, focusing on the slow climb before another joins them. A pale mare Weir has seen before, in glimpses, but never met. She was far along as well, or looked to be, her barrel swollen to great proportions. His heart sank a little, less than it had before, but sank still. He was slowly, if ever, coping with the loss of his first and only child.
"No, by all means dear." He says simply, offering her a smile. "Pleasure of course. I'm Weir, and you must be..?" He trails off leaving her room to supply an answer, to elaborate, but also because he himself was on to the next topic. "Yes, indeed, a seeing pool. Pool of Souls I call it, though I can say it is fondly. Your true self lives within, a reflection of your being in animal form. it will be just a juvenile thing now, but with time as all things it will grow and mature." He was doing his best to keep it upbeat though he was still worried deep down, boy he really hoped it wasn't a badger looking back at him. "Nothing to worry about, i'm sure yours will be lovely." Honestly, the poor man sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as well. If he had fingernails he would be chewing them to bits.
in the morning when I wake and the sun is coming through,