"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
Winter was a cruel season, a beast in the opinion of many. Its frigid temperatures sent many animals scrambling for the safety of their dens, a large majority of them stocking up on food in order to survive while they remained within their homes for the next few days or so. There were other animals that didn't bother to collect food, and instead decided to enter a long sleep common to forest mammals. This 'hibernation' was welcomed by those that got to cherish its graceful embrace, but many were not fortunate enough for such a thing.
One animal that didn't get to enjoy hibernation's graces was the horse, a creature of elegance and power. Despite the cold weather season, on this particular day, a young filly was racing through the snow-covered meadow, doing her best to keep up with her rival while navigating her powerful limbs through the deep white powder.
Now, the thing the young horse was chasing wasn't really her rival, but Raxa welcomed any challenge she could face that would drive her to be even better than the day before. Today, she'd seen a large bird of prey, of what species she didn't know, flying over the snowy meadow, and resolved to chase after it, hoping to outrun it to show she was faster, even while restricted to the ground.
Raxa's lungs burned as she raced to keep up with the bird, who had seemed to notice her, yet didn't do anything against it. It simply continued to fly, and that spurred the brindled mare even more. Telling herself to increase her speed, she moved her legs at an even faster pace, her nostrils flaring from the effort her body was giving to face the bird's speed challenge.
Eventually, whether it seemed to grow bored or Raxa grew tired, the animal changed its flight pattern, heading off toward the trees in the distance. Raxa began to slow down, her chest heaving with exhaustion. Small puffs of air appeared around her nostrils with each breath she let out of her lungs, frigid drops of ice forming on the hairs of her chin due to the saliva coming from her mouth.
That had been a good run, the mare thought to herself. Even while she hadn't beaten the bird today, she was faster than the last time she'd tried to race him. Each day that passed, she could feel herself growing stronger, faster, and it pleased her. At only three years of age, Raxa knew she had to develop traits that would enable her survival.
After all, she knew she couldn't depend on the help of her parents. They made that very clear the day they'd rejected her for her 'odd' appearance.
I don't get what they think is wrong with me. So I don't really look like them, big deal. Dad didn't look like his parents... Deciding not to dwell on those thoughts, Raxa snorted in irritation, stamping a hoof before she resumed her trek, this time at a walk in order to calm down after that run just minutes ago.
As the mare wandered the snowy meadow, her muzzle was low to the ground, absentmindedly pushing the white powder aside in a search for food. Though there wasn't much, as the grass had most likely been killed off thanks to the cold beast of winter bearing down, there had to be something here. And if not, Raxa would just move on and find food elsewhere.
It was something she was used to; she'd been doing it since the day she'd started living off of wild food and not her mother's milk. Then again, there had been times before that too where the mare didn't seem keen on looking after her daughter.
Raxa felt sorry for the next offspring her parents would end up with, for if they looked anything like the roan brindled mare... well, she didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think of what would happen to the second offspring her parents would reject just for coat color.
But that was the way it was in the wild. If you didn't look strong, didn't get strong, you weren't accepted. And Raxa respected that; it was the way of nature, how things worked. But she'd been a strong filly, it was just her coloring that drew the stares.
She would be surprised if any horse one day took an interest in her, whether for the purposes of a friend, a mate, or a herd member, just so some stallion could brag he'd caught another mare. Not like Raxa would go down easy; she could put up a fight if need be, and wouldn't go easily.
Not like she imagined herself with a herd anyway though... in Raxa's mind, that was a useless thought. She'd long gotten used to the idea of living alone, but deep in the mare's mind, she was always telling herself that she didn't have to like such an idea.
Djinni (who had been raised by a mother with coloring more like a deer than a horse, alongside a brother with a turquoise and white mane, and with her own penchant for changing shape, size, and hue) doesn't find the running mare's coloring odd in the slightest. Pretty, yes, and most certainly unique even here in Beqanna; it is the other mare's antics that catch her eye.
Djinni had never tried to outrun a bird. Outfly, yes, but she'd never try something that she wasn't Almaty certain of winning. She likes that the red and white mare tries though, and admires her speed.
She briefly debates simply watching from a distance, a bit curious to see the kind of crowd that the runner would draw. But she has nowhere to go today, and nothing to do. There are no children waiting for her, no doe-eyed boy (or girl) pining in her absence. Why should she not make some time for conversation?
With a shake of her flaxen mane, Djinni steps down from the snowy hill and trots down a well-worn path toward the pinto mare. She gathers a few admiring stares of her own as she goes, and while she pretends to not notice, she certainly does. Today she is her own natural size and shape (lean, mostly Arabian, and small) but with a chestnut coat so bright it is nearly copper and a mane and tail as pale as flax. Her earrings and bracelets remain – as always – and they jangle merrily as she approaches the other mare.
“Hello there,” she says with an easy smile. “My condolences on your loss. I thought for sure you’d beat him.” With a light chuckle, she gestures up into the air where the bird has disappeared. “I’m Djinni, by the way. What’s your name?”
A gentle sound that she couldn't quite place drifted through the wind toward Raxa's ears, and the mare's head shot up from grazing, her eyes large and focused in the direction she'd heard the noise. Her nostrils flared and her muscles tensed, her tail swishing back and forth, expressing not only her caution regarding the approaching dangerous situation, but also her irritation; she clearly wasn't in the mood for this right now. She'd wanted to enjoy a peaceful graze after her earlier run, but clearly there was other plans being put to work.
The mare's blue eyes caught sight of a horse heading her way, one roughly her height. Her coat shone like amber, her flaxen mane and tail the color of wheat. A small glint bounced off of one of her hooves toward Raxa's eyes, and the mare realized that the approaching stranger must have had something around her pastern, some sort of accessory.
As she drew closer, now that she knew what she was facing, Raxa's ears went back, her eyes narrowing a bit to hide the sclera she had previously exposed when analyzing the mare upon first hearing her approach. It was obvious that Raxa was wary of this mare, not caring what her behavior or attitude would be like for a first impression.
This mare was the first one that Raxa had even seen since arriving to this land after departing her home herd. Since leaving, Raxa had always been on the move, never settling with a herd even after stallions had tried to get her to stay. She'd always fought her way out, not wanting to stick around for the purpose of becoming just another breeder. Besides, she's been too young anyway, and until the time came when she would raise a foal of her own, she wanted to be out, exploring, seeing what the world had to offer her inquisitive mind.
Raxa shook her neck out and snorted a bit, warning the mare not to come closer than she already was. The brindled roan listened as the chestnut introduced herself, taking note of the strange golden objects she wore on her pasterns and ear.
'Those must have been making the noise I heard earlier'... Raxa mentally stated, her blue eyes lingering on the golden objects for a moment before gazing back up at the mare's dished face.
"I wasn't really trying anyways. I'll get him next time." For a moment, Raxa even wondered why she was entertaining the mare's curiosity by even telling her such a matter, but didn't dwell on it. "I go by the name Raxa."
The chestnut mare has never in her life been greeted by anything less than good-natured surprise, and so the wary way that the brindle mare responds is, for a moment, offputting. Instinct tells her to do the same, to step away, to keep herself from whatever danger the unknown mare may threaten. But Djinni has had most of her instinct bred out of her by generations of ancestors that lived within the safe boundaries of kingdoms rather than in wild herds, so instead of eyeing Raxa back, Djinni just stops her perhaps overly-friendly approach, and keeps a comfortable distance from the roan mare.
She does not need the warning snort, but she heeds in anyway, taking a single step back in case that was something else the stranger wanted. Djinni is too friendly, but she has never been accused of being rude.
Though she sees Raxa’s eyes linger on her accessories, Djinni doesn’t comment, having decided that perhaps it is best to let up on her attempt at friendship. Not everyone is here for friendship, after all, she reminds herself; some of them are here for vastly different reasons, and she mustn’t assume.
“I’m sure you will,” She replies, trusting that the mare will, eventually, outrun the bird. To Djinni, who has never bothered to exert herself for a moment, the idea is ludicrous, but she imagines that the brindle mare must have something of an iron will.
“It’s nice to meet you, Raxa.” Djinni replies, falling back on the niceties she had learned as a foal at her mother’s side. Princesses are polite, Aseret had said, Princesses do not make others uncomfortable. “What brings you to the Field today? Are you new to Beqanna?” to many question, perhaps, a little nosey, even. It has been a long time since Djinni was at her mother’s side though, and time has a way of changing manners.
01-26-2016, 02:46 PM (This post was last modified: 01-26-2016, 02:47 PM by Raxa.
Edit Reason: To make dialogue easier to see
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Rana did not fail to notice the small change in behavior that Djinni was now exhibiting. The brindle mare had been surprised by the friendly approach of the chestnut; did she not think that Raxa could have been dangerous? Could she not have decided to lash out with teeth and hoof, landing blow after blow against the Djinni's bright chestnut coat?
Not to say that Raxa would do that right away; she knew better than to offset many horses when she first met them. She'd learned that, at the very least, to show civil behavior, and to not be aggressive unless given a good reason to. There had been many situations where Raxa had come across a lone mare or stallion, and whether said mare or stallion had acted friendly or not, the brindle mare had met such a display with her hooves, showing that she was not one to be trifled with.
Many of the mares she'd encountered in this fashion had simply left, unless it was a boss mare. The two would then come to blows, ending only when one backed down. Rana only ever did back down when she knew she couldn't beat the mare, and out of the several dozen horses she'd met, she'd only backed down from the challenge a few times, and it was simply because she'd shown her strength.
Of course, all this had happened after she'd passed the age of two. As a yearling, she'd had almost no chance at defeating a boss mare, let alone a stallion. But when she'd reached an age where she was getting full grown, she'd shown she was more than just, how some stallions referred to her in the past, 'a pretty freak'. She'd shown them she was a fierce mare all in her own right, and had even given one stallion a run for his money.
To this day, she wondered if that bite mark had healed.
Stomping one of her front hooves, a display that showed her acknowledgement of Djinni's space from her, but also as a sign of warning, Raxa stood tall, swishing her tail a few more times, her ears turning back and forth but always returning to rest on the chestnut Arabian in front of her.
"Fairly," Raxa stated. "I've wandered through this area for the past couple of days now, and I haven't seen much of anything thanks to all this snow," she quipped, eyeing the white powder for a brief moment before focusing her attention back on Djinni.
"What about you? Is this where you live, or do you hail from another nearby domain?"
Djinni is not at ease - a rare occurrence - but beyond her hesitation, she does manage to hide it. Despite her lack of experience in conflict, Djinni is well-versed in self-protection. When Raxa becomes more defensive, Djinni does the same, though the change is not visible in her body language, but rather in her body itself.
The sleek Arabian physique that she has so gracefully worn gradually thickness. Her chest becomes broader, her muscle more pronounced, the crest of her neck high enough to rival a stallion’s. Djinni cannot fight - but she can make herself look like she’s a battle-hardened warrior.
She does not mean to be aggressive though, only to appease her own sense of uncertainty, so she does her best to keep her friendly smile. Raxa mentions the snow, and Djinni glances away, looking over the snow-covered hills with a pensive nod.
“It stays cold here longer than in other parts of Beqanna,” she says, gesturing toward the south, where she knows that the jungle of the Amazons never sees any snow. “I’ve never liked the snow much; I was born in the Desert.” Se copes with unease by being chatty, it seems. Djinni is learning all sorts of new things about herself.
Rana seems comfortable enough to continue the conversation, which Djinni is glad for. Perhaps she can still salvage her pride in being a social creature.
“I don’t quite live anywhere yet,” She admits, “Though I’m considering the Chamber.” She’s been thinking on it for days, and while the pine forests are appealing, the snow there lasts longer than she’d like. “The snow should melt in a few weeks if you plan on exploring more; until then it’ll be slow going on foot.”
Her reply sounds dreary, as if she’d dooming Raxa to more weeks alone in the snow. Djinni realizes that as the words leave her moth, and she doesn’t quite like the way that it sounds. “Are you looking for a new home? I know a bit about all the kingdoms, though not so much about herds."
As Raxa watched Djinni carefully, she could have sworn she saw something change in the Arabian's physique. She seemed to grow in size, thick in muscle, and... taller? How did that happen? Perhaps it was just a trick of the light making her see things, and perhaps the ground was angled just enough that Djinni seemed to go through this change.
Yet, as she felt the earth shift beneath her hooves, Raxa doubted her own words.
As Djinni spoke and motioned around, Raxa followed the Arabian's actions. First, she turned to look south, and while she didn't know what really lay out there, she had a feeling Djinni did, and based on how she was talking about the snow, Raxa had a feeling that Djinni liked being in the south more.
If not for its living environment, then lack of snow at least. But Raxa couldn't say for sure; she'd never been down there before.
"Desert? Chamber? Kingdoms? In case you didn't know I don't know what those mean. I haven't been here that long, might I remind you." Feeling some snowflakes fall onto her skin, the brindled mare gave her neck a good shake, her muscles rippling beneath her healthy winter coat before she spoke again.
"What else is out here? Maybe you can tell me enough so that I at least don't end up getting lost."
“Oh!” she says, eyes widening in surprise, “Oh right. Duh. Sorry.” Djinni is so accustomed to others knowing the names of Beqanna’s lands that she’d not bothered to remember that Raxa – who is so new – would probably not be as familiar with them. She is going to explain herself when Raxa asks what else is out in Beqanna, and the chestnut mare seizes her chance to elaborate.
“Well, we’re obviously in the Field,” she says aloud, turning a bit to orient herself with the mountains so that she can be more sure of her directions. “Directly around us is what we call the Common Grounds: the meadow, forest, challenge grounds, and a playground for the foals.” She does her best to point in the proper directions with her red nose. “Due north is the Tudnra, where the bachelor stallion kingdom.” Raxa hadn’t known what a kingdom was, she remembers, and Djinni interrupts her own geography lesson. “A kingdom is like a big herd, I guess. There’s usually an army and some diplomats, and a king or queen, or sometimes both. ”
“Way in the south is the Amazons jungle. It’s an all-female kingdom, and I hear it stays really warm year round. The Desert, where I grew up, is another kingdom. It’s farther southwest. The Chamber is due east of here, way up in those mountains. ” Djinni gestures towards the snow-capped mountains. “There are four other kingdoms – the Gates, the Falls, the Valley, and the Dale. There are also lots of herd lands, and they’re under general rule of the nearest kingdom, but as far as I know kingdoms tend to ignore them for the most part. ”
Raxa was momentarily taken aback by Djinni's surprised exclamation; the chestnut finally seemed to realize that the brindled mare was new and didn't know where anything was, so she obviously needed an explanation. Raxa's head went up, eyes widening a bit to expose her pure white sclera before she calmed as Djinni began to explain what she knew of this land.
With each motion of her nose, Raxa followed with her gaze, memorizing the vague directions that each area of the land, like the Common Grounds, the Tundra, the Bachelor Kingdom, and the Amazons were. Raxa also took note of what Djinni had to say about what a kingdom was, how the herd was made up and such, making sure to memorize that information should she eventually journey to the opposite kingdoms one day.
As soon as Djinni finished her explanation, Raxa went over the information once more in her head. Realizing something she heard, the mare let out an undignified snort, briefly rearing a few inches into the air before stomping her front feet. Her tail swished back and forth, ears back, showing she was clearly irritated.
"A whole kingdom full of stallions? How absurd; I could never be around that much ego," she quipped. Raxa, despite being a mare, was not fond of stallions in the least bit. Every single one she'd met had been rude, egotistical, a narcissist, and he, if not trying to get her to join the herd to have a foal, would make fun of her for her coat coloring. Raxa had simply responded to all their comments and rude actions with a swift kick to the jowl.
In other words, Raxa promised herself she would stay far away from that kingdom. She'd stay away from the Amazons too; even if no stallions lived there, she wasn't fond of mares either. She wasn't fond of anyone really; she was used to being on her own. Perhaps others may trust her, but Raxa had convinced herself early on it was safer for her if she didn't trust anyone.
She'd already been wounded enough as a foal; her heart couldn't take any more of the ache. All those scars of the past had been left open and bleeding, and she didn't need more reminders of her foalhood.
So, despite wishing to be alone, Raxa knew she'd probably stick to the meadow for the time being. Other stallions and mares may inhabit the area, but there was plenty of room to run and be herself without the judgment of others. And if any horse did come near, any horse that gave Raxa a bad vide, she could just head to another area of the meadow. She didn't care if it belonged to a kingdom; she was on the outskirts. Nobody cared about that area.
Out here, she could be her own mare. She'd come across others eventually, but she wouldn't stick around any of them for long. She couldn't afford to.
Turning her attention back to Djinni, ears forward, she addressed the mare with another question, "If you originated from the Desert, what are you doing all the way out here? Why didn't you stick around your home?"
Djinni knows that she’s probably overloaded the other mare with information, so she’s content to stand in silence for a while as the other mare processes it all. In fact, her attention has started to drift toward the horizon when Raxa snorts and rears up. The sudden movement startles Djinni, who takes several steps back and eyes Raxa with something akin to concern. It seems the idea of a bachelor kingdom has irritated the brindle roan mare, and while Djinni does agree (and shows it with an agreeable nod) she’s not quiete sure it’s worth fussing over. The cold is what deters her from that kingdom, not the gender of the inhabitants.
She gives Raxa more time to think, and this time when the other mare speaks up, Djinni is not surprised. Raxa asks a personal question –the first of their conversation – and Djinni wonders if perhaps this means that they might be friends. Djinni does love friends, but their initial interactions had given her the idea that perhaps they’d started off on the wrong hoof.
“My parents left the kingdom when I was still a child.” She says, “They left Beqanna and I went with them for a while.” To the Otherlands, to the world outside Beqanna, but she doesn’t feel the need to name it. “Now that I’m back, the Desert doesn’t feel like home without them. I’m still looking for somewhere to belong.” She knows where she’d like to be – happy in a herd with Walter – but the palomino stallion has never been the kind to tell Djinni what she wants to hear, and so she’s taking charge of her own destiny. She’ll live in the Chamber, or the Meadow, or perhaps leave Beqanna entirely, but the choice is still hers to make.
