"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
The young girl finds herself for the first time outside the protective boundaries of the Falls. Big, big brown eyes are wet and wild and wide. There is so much, possibly too much, going on. Everything blurs and refocuses. There are so many more faces, so many unnamed. They were only a mere few feet away and she could smell the sharp scent of horses and enticed the year and it half-ling.
Her mother was busy with the kingdom and as of late the bay girl was growing frustrated with the "neglect" she felt. With a big huff, the awkwardly scrawny child was growing to that of fine filly. Her form was smoothing out, growing lithe and supple. Josselyn is a combination of her mother and father both. She is bay like Mandan, save the little pink star that blossomed on her forehead like a little pink flower, but inherited the delicately made features of Ygritte. With a small annoyed puff of her cheeks, she tried to blow the dark forelock from her pretty features before it flops back across the amber eyes. Her snout wrinkles slightly in her irritation before disregarding her mane and resuming her slow descent into the meadow, curiosity having distracted her. There were so many horses here! The growing inky black tresses flick up and over her hind end in excitement as the long legs draw her closer to the heart beat of the meadow.
AND ABANDON, THAT GREETS YOU IN THE NIGHT WITH SNAKE EYES, THE MOST PRECIOUS KIND.
The two of them are not so unlike one another in age, but in every other aspect, they are different. Where she is lithe and finely sculpted, Wyrm is sharp and lanky. He is legs and bones and edges and untrusting. Where she is bay and slightly pink, Wyrm is a bold, deep emerald that bleeds through-and-through and gives him almost a comical look in the bright springtime sun. This green though is not a cloak of otherness, it is a badge of honor, and he wears it proudly as he stalks the trembling expanse of the meadow to intercept the happy young filly. “You there.” He spits, looking down at her with unimpressed nonchalance. “What’s your name?” He queries, circling her slowly. It’s a move he hopes will ruffle her feathers - a move that had proved to have the same effect on his younger twin Kudu, before his brother had mastered his own gift.
“I’m Wyrm.” he interjects, not even allowing her the courtesy to finish. His eyes have already begun to wander away, dancing over the crowd around them in hopes of frying bigger fish. But he finds nothing else in the short span of time that could occupy his curiosity, so eventually his gaze returns to her, disappointment edging his glare. “Where did you say you were from?” The growing colt asks, forgetting entirely that the filly has even yet to speak. Patience had never been his strong suit.
The sun was saturating her skin, bone deep. She is standing with her eyes closed to the world and enjoying herself in this moment of solitude before it is absolutely shattered by a demanding, rather impatient voice. Lashes flick open to reveal the amber pools beneath to find a rather dazzling green colt standing before her, looking at her kookily. Joss finds this odd as she isn't the bright ass green one between them. Her young features twist to that of annoyance at his addressing to her. "I-" she eyes him as he freely ravages her young form with his own eyes, her tone flat as peers at him from beneath the dark tresses. A look much too sultry, too grown up, "am Josselyn."
She allows her own gaze to crawl over him, sizing him and noting he is taller than her. He is all angles and points. His chest a little too hollow, neck is thin. But that was the awkwardness of puberty. "I come from my mother and she lives in the Falls." The words are clipped as she lifts her head and gives quite an unladylike snort. Joss does not particularly mention her residence in the Falls and she is not sure why she does not say this but it was passed the point of correction now. "What about you, Wyrm?" The filly asks with a tilt of her skull, watching the (kind of cute) face of her companion. The bay girl settles back, hind hock crooking with the grace of a seasoned ballerina as she awaits his reply, features flat and the right corner of her lips toying into a half smile.
AND ABANDON, THAT GREETS YOU IN THE NIGHT WITH SNAKE EYES, THE MOST PRECIOUS KIND.
Her mannerisms disturb him. Had she learnt her ways from a mongrel? Wyrm finds his lip curling back at her smart reply, a sneer edging his lips as she tests him. “Best watch out, little girl…” He thinks, blood pounding in his head. He knew where foals came from, thank you very much. At the mention of the Falls he finds his ears lowering, head rising with a bit of haughtiness. The Falls, eh? She was probably one of those tree-hugging types, all flowers and sunshine and blah blah blah. Wyrm snorts. “I’m not from anywhere.” He states, pride oozing from his mouth with the declaration. “But my sire is a decorated Chamber member. A war criminal.” He gloats, a wicked grin cementing itself onto his face.
How did she like that? Not so tough now, was she? The emerald green colt steals a glance at her, hoping to find some semblance of awe shadowing her features. But instead she’s toying with a smile, and it wrecks his overall good mood. Girls. Though he does suppose, (stealing another quick look) that she’s not as horrible as she seems when she opens her mouth. Her eyes are rather curious, hinting at some sort of intelligence. And her face isn’t all that bad the more he looks at it. But she was still a water-loving filly. And that was that. He huffs, tail twitching in his obvious irritation. Time to pull out the big guns.
“And just what do you do in the Falls anyways, Josselyn?” He questions, exaggerating each syllable of her girly name. “I bet she has fish breath…” He ponders, and the thought causes a chuckle to bubble up from his chest. “Can you even swim?” He queries, voice growing imperceptibly more serious. Wyrm realizes, suddenly, that he’s never actually been around a large body of water. He thinks … well, perhaps he knows that he himself can’t swim. But that doesn’t matter, all that matters is wiping her smug little face clean of that stupid, pretty smile.
If horse's faces could turn beet red like how in cartoons you see Daffy's head well up with red like a hot thermometer well...that's what is happening to the salmon tinted bay girl. Her eyes flash at him with his malicious tones. Lids narrow to slivers as the small lobes lace back and in response to his haughtiness, SHE lifts HER head as high as she CAN. "Oh a war criminal? Well my mother is the QUEEN." Josselyn sticks her tongue out at him in a -so there!- kind of move. "Hmpf!"
The girl did not intend to reveal so much but the green boy really had her going. He was such a pain! So mean! Joss was not use to boys let along them picking on her. Her small skull falls a bit as she sniffles slightly, the edges of her velvet maw turning downward. "Actually...I can swim." Her tone is audibly meeker when she speaks now as the emerald colt hurt her feelings. The cocoa pools are wet as she looks at him, lower lip poked out. "I don't do anything there...that's why I'm here...TALKING TO A JERKFACE!" Joss yells at him, brows knitting her frustration as her features crumble and the dam that holds back her tears threaten to burst at any moment.
AND ABANDON, THAT GREETS YOU IN THE NIGHT WITH SNAKE EYES, THE MOST PRECIOUS KIND.
Wyrm has always been inherently brutal. Savagery is bred into him, it thrums in his veins. His ability to change even his molecular structure doesn’t help to cull his natural pride, but it turns out that every super villain has a weakness. Josselyn puts on a good show, he’ll give her that. With her head risen high and her tongue wagging in his direction he almost feels the need to grow fangs and snatch it right out of her petulant mouth. He doesn’t because he knows that he’s gotten to her, worked his way beneath her skin and touched on a nerve that she’d previously been trying to hide. In her folly, she’d given him priceless information: unbeknownst to him at the time, of course, but valuable nonetheless.
Princesses shouldn’t be wandering out by themselves.
As her smile fades to a frown Wyrm can’t help but grin in his simple victory. “Ha!” He thinks, proud to find out that she was indeed a Falls tree-hugger. Just like her, to pout and rant about his rudeness. As her accusations fly the emerald colt can only roll his eyes, huffing with mild irritation at the tears that threaten to spill over. He’d accomplished his goal - no use in having a blubbering baby to talk to. “Stop that, right now.” He tells her sourly, ears falling against his skull with distaste. He’d never cried (not that he could remember anyhow) and he certainly wasn’t about to deal with someone else doing it now. “What kind of royal princess cries?” He questions, tail flicking at his heels. With a sigh he mutters under his breath, gnawing on his cheek with the loathsome thought of what he’s about to do.
The colt changes colors - prominent emerald flashes to white, and then bright circles of annoying purples, pinks, and blues pop up everywhere on his coat. He looks idiotic and positively like an equine clown. He’s not sure if it’ll make her feel better, but he feels almost as dumb as he looks. “There,” He mumbles, “Happy now?” The bitter resentment still clear on his face. Quickly now he changes back, sighing with relief that the moment is over. “Besides, I can’t swim at all, so that’s one thing you’ve got that I can’t do.”
