"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
How strange it is to be haunted by someone still alive.
How strange it is to live a life so different than her dreams.
So different than her reality.
At least, as it was, just months (has it already been months?) ago.
This was not the life she was supposed to live.
She still can hear the strong cadence of his chuckle, and the smile it brought to her lips each time he laughed.
She still can feel the tender touch of his embrace, a joyous blanket of love and warmth that she held oh so close.
She still can smell the aroma of his dark coat, so virile and faintly pungent (what boy doesn’t reek, after all?).
She recalls them all fondly. She recalls them bitterly.
She is still affectionate; she is vengeful.
She wishes the best for his future; she hopes he suffers, that he aches with an agony a thousand-fold what he gifted her.
And so she runs.
She runs, for days… for weeks… for months… She runs through forests and jungles and deserts and beaches and plains and bayous and mountains, and still she runs. She runs with no objective, with no destination, but to forget him. She runs from him.
She wants to remember him. But she wants to forget. She needs to forget.
And slowly, she does. She is still numb (a woman’s heart can never fully heal), but his image grows hazier and the pain grows fainter. She still recalls the love, but the memory becomes more and more like a dream. Did it even happen? Was it even real? It was, but it isn’t. Not anymore.
This is, she realizes, her new normal.
And how fitting it is that her realization arises as she skids suddenly to a halt, an iron maiden silhouetted against a blood red sky. For what is a sunrise if not a rebirth? And what is Beqanna, if not the land of the sunrise?
It seems he and Rhonan were the only ones frequently making their way in and out of the Valley this past year. Like before Demian had made his move to build the Valley back up it had once again fallen into a state of silence and inactivity and it was making him impatient. The hard work he had put in seemed almost to be somewhat for nothing... But he knew Gallows and Fennick, especially Fennick with his quiet unsociable ways had done their best. And Demian knew more than most that sometimes things just didn't go as planned, as unfortunate as that was.
In an effort to escape it, the silence Demian found himself wandering outside the Valleys borders past the wolves that ran alongside it as silent protectors and into the darkness beyond. He walked it seemed for hours through the early morning darkness, and into the sunrise of the morning. It was only when he felt the warmth of the sun on his face and back that he knew it was day and in that moment he was stepping into the field.
It took a while, but with the carrying voices of mares and stallions he soon realized where exactly he was. This common ground of seeking out a home was more than an ironic place for him to stop. You could say it was the strong desire to build the Valley's numbers once more that led him here rather than his blindness carrying him off the edge of some cliff. Softly he sighs, his wings hugging his sides tightly as he shifts his weight from one side and then to the other as he turns his head towards the loudest of voices and listens in.
"No, no. You wont do," he whispers under his breath. Whoever had drawn the small crowd already had plenty of offers and he wasn't much of the type to plant himself in large groups in order to win another's acceptance. It was then he hears her steps in the form of a quick run and then the sudden sliding to a stop. Snapping his head in the direction of the noise his ears prick forward and he finds himself blindly focused on whomever felt the need to run at such a brisk pace.
It is now he finds himself turning, hooves digging into the soft dirt as he moves into a fluid walk through the yellow grasses. It takes only a few minutes but he eventually finds himself approaching the one that had kicked up all the dust and with a soft snort he lets her know of his presence before he gets too close."Hello there," His voice is gruff but soft as it carries through his lips and into the empty space between them. "I'm Demian," his introduction is simple, as it always has been.
"What exactly are you running from? Should I be worried?" A hint of amusement touches at his tone as a smile turns up the corners of his lips slightly. My was he rusty at this. He was definitely going to need to practice and he could only hope the one in front of him would be understanding.
The sound of silence chills her. For so long now had she run that she had grown quite accustomed to the repetitive cadence of her steps. Thud thud. Thud thud. Strangely melodic. Strangely soothingly. And with each thud, she had felt a ripple of pain shoot through her muscles from the impact, from overuse, from overexertion. She had cherished that pain. It had been so strong. But it had been so constant. It was a stable companion in her unstable life.
And the physical pain so easily, so welcomingly, overrode the mental pain. But only while she ran.
Now, with no such companion, she feels his memory creeping back. He is a dark shadow, curling his fingers, latching on to what little sanity she has left.
She closes her eyes and inhales deeply. She begs herself – she begs him! – to leave her be. To let her start anew! He had already chased her off – why must he follow as well?
Luckily, her inner battle was not permitted to wage for long. She hears him (a different him, she notes with both gratitude and disappointment) – or more accurately, his snort – before she sees him. It is fortunate, for as she turns and her gaze settles on him, she pulls back with fright. She scrambles to not lose her footing, though she cannot help but sound a shrill, startled whinny. But with a deep breath, she attempts to calm her beating heart as she realizes he had not yet attacked.
In fact, he seems rather amicable.
He had instead brought her a pleasant greeting, and with embarrassment, she notes that she had not responded in the most polite of manners. But she had never before seen such a creature… those wings! Those colors! And most of all, what frightened her to the core, those eyes, or lack thereof. (She had been quite the sheltered mare, one can deduct.)
“I’m sorry, you took me off guard,” she stammers, and if horses could blush, she would be the color of spring roses. She pauses, her gaze running down the length of him in continued wonder. “I’m Chalmette,” she then continues quietly, finding it strange to form words. It had been so long since she had last spoken to anyone.
It is then that she spies the hint of a smile on his lips as he comments on her run, and she gradually feels her muscles begin to lose their tenseness. The irony of him fearful of something was certainly not fathomable to her. “Nothing… nothing…” she murmured, allowing the beginnings of a smile to dance across her lips as well. “Nothing that could ever harm you.” And that, probably, was very true.
02-10-2016, 07:38 PM (This post was last modified: 02-10-2016, 07:39 PM by demian.)
you say I'm crazy, but I think I'm freaking amazing.
He had never known what it meant to chased by a shadow. To be tormented by a soul that had done him so much harm in the form of heartbreak and betrayal that it was more than he could ever even so much as try and forget. Never had he spent his hours begging for the memory of someone else to keep away and to leave him alone. Though because of this he could not relate to the mare's pain and suffering. To her reason for fleeing from a home she once knew. Demian had never known love. And he may never. It was hard to tell when he was one so detached from such emotions.
He stands there for a moment waiting for her realization that he was there and it was only when her shrill whinny pierces the surrounding air. With a start, his head jerks up and had his eyes still been in their rightful place the whites would of have shown wide and bright. It was surprise that made his body jerk, hooves dancing underneath him anxiously for a moment before finally settling and allowing him to stand still. With a deep breath he exhales and then laughs shakily.
"I'm so sorry, forgive me. I didn't mean to frighten you, dear." His smile grows a bit larger as he shuffles his wings at his sides. It was when her voice comes into the space between them, gentle and shaky that he tilts his head curiously. "Oh it's quite alright. There is no need to apologize as the fault is mine for approaching without announcing myself sooner. I tend to do that sometimes. I never really know how close I am to someone anymore."
With a soft shrug of the shoulders he takes a few steps in order to politely move back a few steps in order to give her room. Her surprise at his colors and her fear of his lack of eyes went entirely unnoticed during the entire exchange. And even had he been able to see it, he wouldn't of minded. He knew there were still those who had never seen those like him with the different gifts and defects that many now held in Beqanna and to think differently would be an ignorance he couldn't afford.
This is one of the many reasons he doesn't react poorly to her own response and why his body softens, the tension seeping from every part of him. The way her voice flows softly and quietly from inbetween her lips lulls him into a slight peace of the mind, his lack of sight being almost entirely forgotten. "It's nice to meet you Chalmettte," and it is genuinely said. It has been such a long time since he had met a mare with a soft voice and gentle way about her and he had to admit that he enjoyed the peaceful nature it brought to the surrounding atmosphere.
It is when her next words could be heard in a smile against her lips that he chuckles softly. "Well I would hope not. I can't exactly see whatever is coming, so you'll have to let me know if something is." It is now that the jaguar spotted stallion lets his lips form into a full smile. "Chalmette, may I ask what you're doing here? Are you in search of something? Someone?"
demian
carnage x adalind
@[Chalmette] she is absolutely adorable! <3 and thank you for putting up with my rusty writing :3
02-11-2016, 10:33 AM (This post was last modified: 02-11-2016, 11:12 AM by Chalmette.)
(haha, quite the opposite – Demian is SUCH a sweetheart! I love him! Thank YOU for putting up with my terrible writing!)
His laugh, no matter how shaky, brings a further sense of security to her uneasy mind. It had been so long since she had last heard such a carefree sound, and each chuckle rings like music in her ears. It is impressive how such a simple sound can bring such a change in tone, and oh so willingly does she welcome that transformation! And his words, they are so gentle, so kind… she definitely begins to regret judging him by first appearance. In fact, rather than frighten her, his presence is, in a sense, beginning to comfort her.
“The pleasure is all mine,” she responds, feeling a genuine smile spread from the mere hint displayed earlier. Her gaze softens, having now both fully accepted that he means no harm as well as having grown accustomed to his unique appearance. Her earlier fright having subsided, she slowly reaches her muzzle forward to touch his in greeting. As she makes contact with his velveteen skin, she breathes in deeply, finding his musky, masculine scent soothing. It is new, like nothing she had ever smelled previously, and the novelty revitalizes her.
He then comments on his lack of sight and the steel gray mare is unable to hold back a small chuckle of her own. His ability to acknowledge his own shortcoming is quite endearing to her and further eases her earlier discomfort regarding his lack of eyes. “You seem to manage to get around quite well regardless…,” she responds, her tone a fusion of amusement and admiration. “But yes, I’ll do my best to be your sentry.” And with that simple statement, she finds her smile expanding. As silly as it is, the feeling of being useful to someone, of having a sense of purpose, of helping someone again, even just for a moment, was rather reassuring.
He then asks her intent, and she falls silent for a moment, her smile rapidly vanishing from her lips. Searching for something? “Quite the opposite...” she begins, but trails off. There is no sense in bringing up past pains, especially not to such a pleasant new acquaintance. Besides, to bring him up is to allow him to succeed. She is stronger than that… or so she hopes.
She chuckles again, a quick little thing, half at her own stupidity and half out of sheer nervousness. “Honestly, I haven’t a clue what I’m looking for. No idea at all what I’m doing.” And it is the truth, she realizes. She has been so intent on outrunning her past that she has yet to look towards her future.
Her eyes follow him closely at this point as she wonders whether he thinks she’s ridiculous with her aimlessness. She lets out another sheepish laugh, unsure of what else to say before deciding to offer her own query instead, hoping to change the mood. “What are you doing here?” She supposes he might have just been out for a walk, but she might just as well have trespassed on his land. Being so new to the realm, she hasn’t even a clue where she stands, that she’s in a field of vagrants all searching for a home.
There were a thousand accusations in each of their screams, all asking why, why, why do you get to live?
She thought her nostrils might be permanently scorched, olfactory senses tattooed with burning hair and flesh. She might never smell the sweet, sweet scent of water again.
Each night beneath his tree, she willed herself to step away from the precipice. Do not go down that road, she told herself, there is no one to replace you.
Do not follow him so blindly into the dark, do not go where you do not know the path; do not attempt what you cannot undo.
She cursed her poison-laced name to Adonai and wondered how she missed the treachery of marble skin, how she could relish in the coolness against her heat.
With blood beneath the monster’s hooves, she issued a death sentence to her child’s mother, forcing herself to believe that the beast would one day get her comeuppance.
For all this, she is radiant. Never forgetting, always keeping their names on her lips and their life-songs in her heart. Aviva. Esther. Abba, Ima, Levi, Aaron. Their silent voices echo through an empty Kingdom, and she can hear too much. It is unsettling. Yael loves their quiet, grumpy lion home, but there is something to be said about the joyful peal of voices reaching across the oasis. For new blood. For friends. And so she leaves again, heading to the Field in search of someone who might want to call the Desert home. For this - she cheats. Just a little. No more than a feathery tap on the shoulder to those who can feel it, and oblivious to those whose minds have not yet opened.
There are many here, and she is genuinely surprised; it seems that these days it is either feast or famine with the newcomers. The fine-boned, gold and silver mare ambles amongst the groups, sussing out the natures of individuals, looking for one who might fit in their little group. She finds two - a spotted, winged stallion, and a silvery-black mare - who look to be having a normal conversation. Demian, she picks out, and recognizes the name of the ex-King. Chalmette, she rolls off her mental tongue, and notes that it sound foreign, like hers, but in a different way. Yael approaches them, metallic wings drawn up against her sides, and a pleasant smile on her face.
“Xello,” she says with spritely vigor, though is careful not to seem too eager. “I xope I’m not eenterrupting…” She is, she knows. But that is the game they all play. Sometimes four or five can gather ‘round and nothing is guaranteed. “I ahm Yael.” She looks the gray mare up and down and casually, calmly asks her own question after she has finished answering Demian’s. “Ahr you new to B’kanna?”
02-12-2016, 06:15 PM (This post was last modified: 02-12-2016, 06:17 PM by demian.)
you say I'm crazy, but I think I'm freaking amazing.
He can feel the calm that was settling through the mare in front of him. It radiates into the space surrounding them leaving him with a sort of peace. He had forgotten how calmly meeting a new face could go after his period of isolation. Though it was quite nice to have such a relaxing return. The way her smile is shown in her words keeps his own smile dancing across his lips as he listens to her gentle voice and kind words.
He had never been the type to bring harm to those that surrounded him. Rather the opposite. His main goal was to lift those who had a lack of confidence or worries about the world into a higher place with a higher confidence. Fennick had been the first, and then Cress. He had led them both into positions that made them uncomfortable but made them prove to themselves that they were indeed possible of great things despite prior beliefs.
It's definitely what had separated him from the previous leaders of the Valley. A kind mind and patient personality with a strong belief in his peers was much different then the short tempered kings and queens of the past. It was in a way, what helped him to make a mark whenever he was around. All of this was the reason that he approached Chalmette with such care, making sure not to be forceful in his words and respectful in his actions. He knew, like the rest she was just as capable of anyone else. Even with the skeletons that haunted her.
It is when she reaches out and touches her nose to his that he chuckles softly and breathes in her scent in sync before pulling back slowly and grinning. "I have had much practice. But I appreciate your help very much." his voice is calm as he remembers for a fleeting moment his weeks of hiding in the back of the Valley as he got used to navigating the world without his eyes. Those weeks had been the hardest. The struggle of a loss of a gift that had once made him whole and filled the emptiness in his heart, and the struggle of the loss of his eyesight had been two things he had to heal from and get past.
There was nothing like the loss of a part of you. In a way you could say his loss was as great as the pain Chalmette was running from. But he would never compare, no. Because it was no use. As for even the smallest things can be the biggest to some and the smallest to others and so he knew he would never be able to compare or decide which was as great or more so than the other. He tilts his head slightly in curiosity when she begins to speak once more, obviously deciding against what she was going to follow her words up with and patiently he waited for her to continue.
He knew that now wasn't the time to ask, but he was curious. Curious about what her story held in the dark corners of her mind. He had always been the curious type. Wanting to learn about all those he came across. Though he understood deep down she wasn't ready, and silently he noted that when the time came in the future, he should ask her what her story was. Unlike most, he'd love to hear it. No matter how sad and dark it was.
It's her chuckle that breaks him from these thoughts, and with a raise of the brow curiously. "Ah, I too have been there. Not really sure of what exactly I'm doing, where I'm going..." Gently he bites his bottom lip in thought before continuing, "But I've come to find that strangers can sometimes lead us in the most exciting of directions." He pauses for a moment, allowing the sound of the wind to dance between them before continuing. "To answer your question, I am here in search of finding some new faces for the kingdom I live in. My first intention was just to troop around and try to find something to do, practice my getting around... But I figured a bit of an activity would help."
His smile is awkward and with a soft roll of the shoulders he shrugs slightly. "I used to be much better at this you know. I think the loss of my sight was a bit humbling on the confidence." He chuckles once more. "But to explain, I approached you wondering if you were in search of a place to call home. Even if just temporary... I figured if you were up to it, I could show you my home, The Valley and see if you'd like it enough to stay." As his words ended it was then he noticed another approaching, his head turning towards the other mare in slight surprise. He hadn't been expecting a third party but such was the ways of the field. Great possibilities always brought multiple offers.
And though the approaching mare recognized him, he could say he recognized her. He had never met Yael, not personally and hadn't heard much in his time as king. Though he was sure he would of enjoyed meeting her with her shiny appearance and unusual accent. It is when she introduces herself that he nods softly in greeting. "It's quite alright, Yael, I do not mind." He smile is genuine as he tilts his head slightly. "I'm Demian, and this here is Chalmette." He has the distinct feeling he doesn't need to introduce himself, but he does so anyway out of respect and the norm of pleasantries.
Her spritely vigor is a nice add to Chalmette and Demian's happy atmosphere and growing quiet he allows Chalmette to speak for herself, patiently welcoming Yael into their small group.
demian
carnage x adalind
@[Yael] welcome to the party ;D
@[Chalmette] awww, well thank you! I'm glad you love him! But Chalmette is still absolutely adorable <3 and haha awww. You're very welcome! But your writing is not terrible! It is wonderful!
also, sorry for the slow response! I was getting signed up for my second school/cert. courses the past 2 days
She dips her head in agreement as he speaks of the latent potential of strangers and the paths to which they accompany us, and deep in her heart, she yearns for it to be true. “A new direction would be nice,” she finds herself murmuring, perhaps more as counsel to herself than to him as she finds herself again longing both to let go as well as to hold onto his memory.
Luckily, the spotted stallion breaks the silence soon again, and the faint image of him which had crept back into her mind vanishes, replaced by talk of a kingdom. She furrows her brow as he speaks, both confused and intrigued by the concept of a kingdom. She has never heard of such a concept before and knows only the world of herds. Perhaps they were actually the same thing? In this land of strange looking horses, she would not be overly surprised. “Is that what you call your herd?” she finds herself questioning sheepishly, a warmth returning to her cheeks.
But again the speckled male comments on his lack of eyesight, and she finds herself again nodding in agreement and admiration. “Being humbled is a gift,” she begins, trailing off for a brief moment. Like him, she too has been humbled by recent events, though not nearly to the extent as the stallion. But as for him? She scoffed internally, wishing Demian could be there to teach him a lesson or two! “There are many who could stand to experience and be bettered by such a concept in their life still.” She gives a small chuckle as she finishes her sentence and he begins to explain the Valley.
She ponders for a moment as he concludes his statement. She watches him intently as she thinks, her dark eyes gazing into his sockets. He seemed quite a nice gentleman, but as she had unfortunately learned, first appearances could be quite deceptive as well. But it had been only mere moments prior that she had wished for a new direction, and so, she supposes, an introductory visit wouldn’t hurt.
Yet, just as she opens her mouth to accept, she is halted by the approach of a new mare. Or, more accurately, she is rendered absolutely speechless by the metallic feathers drawn up on the side of the mare. This land is getting stranger and stranger, she notes to herself. And for a moment, she glances back at Demian, wondering if this Valley of his beheld creatures even more alien than the two of them.
Thankfully, her second shock is far more tempered than her initial reaction to Demian. Closing her mouth quickly, she manages a smile as the mare politely introduces herself. Thankfully, Demian introduces her, buying her a couple more seconds to regain her composure. “Hi Yael,” she manages to add after Demian draws silent, hoping that her tone portrayed more sociability than astonishment.
She looks back to the stallion, taking solace from the fact that he has, by this point, grown to be more or less “normal” to her, before returning her gaze to the golden mare. “Yes, I’ve just arrived,” she answers, taking a mental note of the land’s name. B’kanna. The dark mare studies the winged figure for a moment, both admiring her foreign elegance and wondering the source of such a distinct accent.
She then turns back to the stallion, realizing his offer still lay open and unaccepted. Yet, she did not think it polite to leave Yael so suddenly and was certainly interested in getting to know them both further. Thankfully, the steel gray mare realizes, as she again turns her gaze back to the mare, that Yael was not an opposing stallion. There should be no harm in a group outing when two of them were girls! “Demian had just offered to show me his homeland. I thought it might be interesting to see… would you care to join us?” She suddenly supposes she should have asked the stallion’s permission first, and turns back to him, another sheepish smile on her lips. “Would that be alright?” she asks him unknowingly. Who knows? Perhaps Yael was searching for a home as well!
In truth, it wouldn’t have bothered her if Demian had minded the intrusion, but since they’re playing nice, she’ll pretend his answer didn’t make her want to laugh out loud. He will be a rather… unusual King for the Valley, she thinks, drifting back to the days of the arrogant, but worthless duos that seemed to follow each other. The Valley’s had difficulty keeping Kings and Queens who care, but she supposes that is inherent in some of their natures. That which makes them suitable for the Valley’s reputation, may not make them suitable for the throne. And then some are just selfish, and refuse to step down. They can talk the talk, but can they walk the walk? Yael has dedicated the entirety of her life of B’kanna (even those days where she was drowning in sorrow and sleepless under the silent stars) to the Desert.
Perhaps Demian will be the change they need. Perhaps not. Yael doesn’t practice looking into the future; it is too fickle for her liking.
“Velcome, t’en,” she says as if she were B’kanna’s own ambassador. “I reemember vhen I vas new xere…” the golden mare starts, and then drifts off for a moment. That part of her history will always be sad, an indefinable blur of pain and smoke and thirst. It is, however, the story of who she is, and the beginning of what was literally the rest of her life - a life she never could have dreamed of otherwise. But she quickly bounces back from her reveries with a swivel of her ears as she looks from Demian to Chalmette and back again. Well, he certainly works fast, doesn’t he?
Not that the decision is a difficult one to make. Yael nods in agreement to the proposal, but cannot leave it at that. “Of course, I vould love to come see ze Valley,” - oops, that slipped out. She tries to race through to cover it up. “But I xaf vone small rekest for after t’at. You come see my xome too, in ze Desert.” It might be a moot point, after she sees the cool shade of the pine trees, and smells their sweet, fresh scent. Her home is nothing like that. But she wouldn’t want to underestimate the gray mare, or herself and Vanquish. With a look to her left, and then to her right, Yael indicates the empty space around them. “Lead ze vay, Demian.”
[yall can post first in the valley, i'll be away for the weekend]
