"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
He can't feel anything. He's numb, his mind sucked into an dark abyss where there is nothing. It's where he has spent these last few years, letting himself succumb to the endless spiral into the shadows. This is where he belongs, he almost admits, because then he won't have the pain of loss or heartbreak. There would be nothing to rip him piece by piece, little by little. It could be great, living in a world where nothing exists and where there is no light at the end of the tunnel, but something holds him back. There is a piece of his heart that remains tightly tethered to Beqanna. This is all he knows and what he has sworn to himself to protect. The world requires balance so that it does not crumble in the face of darkness, but Tiphon questions his inner strength nowadays. Has too much of him flaked away?
The stallion groans when his eyes blink to life. His body slowly materializes from the air and proceeds with its usual illumination. He tries to smile, but it's difficult as he begins to reminisce. His molten eyes become shaded and his head turns to one side as he considers his losses. This immortality is costing him far more than he had intended. It isn't a blessing, but a curse. As a colt he had advised himself to never grow attached to anyone or anything because he would outlive it all, but nature bested him. He can be reclusive for only so long when in a herd and, eventually, as a king. Time and adoration sunk its nails into him and pinned him down, but he can't say he regrets it. With every loss there is a gain, but he can't help but focus on those losses.
The forest is new to him, but he takes little interest. His mind is still trapped in that vortex but it's slowly crawling out. It calls to him, wanting to consume him entirely, but Tiphon repels and refuses with the remaining energy he has.
The faintest sound catches the attention of the pale woman. Pools shifting to follow suit as she attempts to pinpoint the source. Well perhaps it is not so much as a sound but a vibration. Whomever was the utterer seemed burdened, pained even. A small frown touches the edges of the velvet lips as she turns to seek sound-maker.
It was honestly none of her business but as the days turn to years and years turn to decades, you have to find ways to occupy yourself. Usually when Beqanna fell into a lull Illinois would simply find a quiet dark place and 'nap' until her body woke to something new. Usually it was unaccounted time lapses and she would typically discover a new world but as of lately the pale buckskin had found names and faces to remember so she stayed awake with her recent establishment in Beqanna.
But ok, enough of that.
Raven wings rearrange on her spine, loosening to absorb the warmth of the sunlight that peeked through the trees, speckling her body. Ears twist to catch any further sounds but there are none, dark eyes peering through the inky mess that was her forelock. Confusion furrows her brow till she sees something. Lids narrow as a shape- no, a horse, materializes, outlined and hovering. Illinois had seen many things in her existence but this was certainly a first even for her.
She watches quietly as the equine forms and solidifies. Illy feels embarrassment now like she has witnessed a private act, something sacred she should not have viewed but her concern was too intense for this other being (it was a flaw at times to care too much for the whole equine race of Beqanna). Sometimes Illinois carried the weight heavily upon her own withers, perhaps she felt the need to make up for the wrongs committed by others, to try to bring light back into the darkness and hold that balance.
But that is neither here nor there at tis present moment.
"Are you ok?" Her voice sounds much too young for her old, old body. Her features never changing from the time she hit marehood. Those large dark eyes give away her concern for this strange being, a stallion actually. He is almost too beautiful to look directly at. Like milk and honey or silk and gold makes up him hue and one of the most brilliant horses Illinois had ever laid her eyes upon. She can not offer anything to this stag but soft words and a curious little crooked smile. She takes a pace closer, sensing a pain though he has not addressed her or himself but the weight of world rests on her shoulders and she is compelled to reach out to the man and touch his shoulder as soft as a butterfly's wing brushing your cheek. "I'm here now, it's ok." Her smile crosses her lips fully as she observes the unnamed male, blindly offering comfort to potential harmer but Illy takes the risk for she can not simply leave one alone and in pain.
