"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
From the start, he had been independant. It wasn't as if he was running away from anything -- actually, things were pretty great at home. His mom, Desirea, was a kind and doting mother, and his papa, Szeth, was equally loving. It was a happy home in their sandy seaside world -- but Sin Killer, as he had been named, had always loved adventuring, and discovering new places was beginning to take him further and further from home.
Having been born on the coast, where lush grazing patches were small and needed to be looked for, he was already on his way to being very self-sufficient. For the most part, he still relied on his mother's milk. But he had fun seeking out the patches of grass that tasted sweetest to nibble on, and he was quickly learning what to look for.
It was something of a shock, then, when he came upon the meadow. Never had he seen such a wide open plain full of sweet grass. The foal nibbled uncertainly at a few blades, confirming to himself that he had really found such a treasure trove, and then gave a little squeal of excitement.
With a sudden burst of energy, the long-legged foal went dashing about, running as fast as his stilt-like legs could carry him. Around and around he went, in smaller and smaller circuits, giggling to himself and breathing the scent of the grass and the air. Then all at once he stopped, and the world kept spinning without him, twirling and confusing which way he was supposed to put his legs.
He fell down onto his belly in a dizzied heap, still giggling softly to himself. From there he rolled over onto his back, long legs half-splayed toward the sky, and watched the world slowly come back to rest.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Novel is a creature of a different sort, one far beyond the mundane, the common. She is a creature born of fear and pain and ice, of complete uncaring and disregard. But she could not be happier.
Her mother might never love her and her father might have vanished back into the obscure mists of his own realm, but she cares little that fate has bestowed her so. That her beginnings, by any standards, are much less than could be desired or hoped for.
This holds no bearing on her current state of existence. Indeed, she has spent much of it in a bird form, wearing the body of an innocuous black raven. An adolescent one certainly, but entirely less noticeable than her own multi-hued equine body.
What she hadn't counted on however, is the constant solitude. Eschewing the company of her own kind is decidedly lonesome. And so, when she sees the young colt barreling across the meadow in a wayward pattern, she cannot help her curiosity.
Fluttering down from the low branch she had perched herself upon, she hops the short distance from tree to colt, occasionally flapping her glossy dark wings to aid her awkward bound. Halting a short distance from the roan colt, she tilts her head curiously as she fixes one beady black eye on him.
This simply would not do. Would not do at all.
With a huff, she hops backwards, her frame contorting, expanding and growing until she is a small blue and orange filly. With a rough shake, she pushes through the last of the transition as several feathers escape and flutter to the ground beside her. Tilting her head again in that curiously avian way, she offers the colt a small grin.
”Hi. I'm Novel,” she says finally, her voice surprisingly chipper. ”Who are you?”
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.
Sin Killer was startled by the sound of rustling nearby. He rolled over and climbed to his feet, and found that a large black bird had joined him. He took a step closer and sniffed at the feathered thing, having never seen such a specimen at such close proximity.
Suddenly the bird lurched backward and began to expand in bizarre ways. Sin Killer's eyes widened, and he stood frozen in fear. Never had he seen such a thing, and his heart was hammering wildly in his chest.
The shape of a foal became clear, and as the dust and feathers settled, Sin Killer found himself face to face with something that looked sort of like him.
Sin Killer took a hesitant step back, trying to hide the fact that he was trembling. "Um, what the heck was that?" The question came falling out of his mouth before he could stop it, and he realized with a twinge of shame that his mother would not stand for such rude behavior.
He shook his head, clearing his head, and tried again. "Er, I mean... I-I'm Sin Killer. It's... nice to meet you?" His voice rose at the end, as if he wasn't quite sure whether or not this would be considered a 'nice' experience.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
She has never had reason to know fear. Not fear, nor pain, nor sorrow and suffering. Certainly one should expect it, given who her parents are. But she is oblivious to these poorer emotions, the ones that holds other creatures back. Perhaps one day she would learn of them, but today is not that day.
This young boy however, shows no qualms on displaying such emotions. His reaction is surprising to her. She has never considered that there are those unfamiliar with her odd world. With those who can bend and change and remake themselves. That he had never before seen such things had never occurred to her.
”What?” she asks abruptly, equally as confused as he. Her brow creases in consternation as she steps closer, as though being nearer would clarify things.
His rudeness has no noticeable effect on her. In truth, she likely would not recognize rude behavior were it to slap her in the face. She certainly has not had anyone to teach her the difference.
His next comment smooths her confused expression, distracting her with the tantalizing prospect of more interesting conversation. ”Oh,” she says simply, pausing as she considers him closely again. ”Why are you here?”
The last is asked almost idly as she cocks one hoof as she eyes his red roan coat. With barely a thought, her dual toned coat ripples, the bright colors fading into a speckled chestnut hue that matches his perfectly.
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.
Sin Killer wasn't sure how he felt about her stepping closer to him. Normally he was very easy to get along with, being a fairly simple sort of creature and never really feeling any dislike for anyone. But this filly's transformation made him uneasy. Had he really seen that happen? He'd never seen anyone change from a bird to a horse before, nor the other way around. Was that something all horses could do?
Suddenly Sin Killer felt a surge of excitement. Perhaps this strange little one could teach him how to turn into a bird.
With the attention span native to most young ones, Sin Killer was startled out of his thoughts by Novel's abrupt question. He paused, uncertain. Why was he here? He'd never wondered such a thing before, and it seemed like a silly thing to ask. His brow furrowed, and he looked at her with a bit of consternation.
"I don't know," he answered honestly, with a little shrug of his speckled shoulders. "Just explorin', I guess."
A little ripple went over the filly, and suddenly she appeared just as red as he did. On one hand, it was nice to see someone the same hue as himself, given that his parents were both rather drab, and he was acutely aware of the incredible difference in their appearances. On the other hand, this changing business was still making him nervous. He frowned, his brows furrowing even further.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, not entirely kindly, but not cruelly either. As his initial surprise and fear subsided, he found himself feeling a little frustrated with this bizarre creature.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
She is odd, even if she does not yet know it. With her rainbow of hues and aptitude for the avian, it is entirely undeniable. She is different. Unique and alone. Certainly there are others with gifts similar to hers, but none quite the same. Perhaps this young colt is correct in his wariness of her.
But to her, to the oddly colored raven shifting filly, he is the odd one. He, with his roan coat, gangly, horse body, and distinct lack of anything out of the ordinary, is different and strange. And she, ever like the raven, even in her equine form, is as curious as if she had spotted something sparkling in the sand.
And so, with complete disregard for appropriate behavior or modesty, she steps nearer to inspect him more closely. Her small, pale muzzle reaches out to nibble curiously at his shoulder, a shoulder whose color matches her own precisely.
His answer to her rather abrupt question intrigues her as much as his speckled red coat does. ”Really? Have you found anything interesting yet?” Her breath huffs warmly into his knobby shoulder in complete disregard for proper etiquette. Never mind the fact that she is probably the most interesting thing he has encountered so far. That thought had not even occurred to her.
His next question brings her up short, causing her to withdraw slightly as her dark gaze turns to find his. ”I live here,” she says, looking at him as though it should have been obvious.
In all honesty, she lives wherever she pleases. Most horses will not pause to notice if a small, innocuous raven has taken up residence in their tree.
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.
Sin Killer stiffened a bit as the filly came closer, closing the gap between their nearly identical bodies. He arched his neck around to follow her as she moves her muzzle to his shoulder and nibbles. A chill went through his little body, but he did not pull away. He'd never been shy of physical contact, even with those he wasn't sure about.
"Just you, so far," he answered honestly, blinking at Novel with a look of dubiety. "Mostly everyone else is kinda all the same." His words were said almost accusingly, as if he thought perhaps she were some sort of impostor.
And perhaps she was. His papa had told him plenty about the evils of "traited" horses. And while he was still learning what, exactly, made a "traited" horse, he felt sure that this filly was some sort of bad news.
Her answer to his question, however, seemed to make him feel a little better. If she lived here, surely she was fairly normal, right?
Sin took a step back, leveling his curious gaze at Novel. "Don't you... play?" One of his favorite things in the world was to run and race -- though his newfound love for sparring had begun to filter through into his personality, as he got older. But this creature seemed so sober and serious, he had a hard time imagining her laughing or having fun of any sort.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
She is a child, and children play. But then, perhaps their definitions of play are two very different things. As much of her life has been spent as a bird, she has played, mostly, with the raven youth. Their games are very different from those of the equine persuasion.
Stepping back, she eyes him with one black orb as though he has gone entirely mad. ”Play?” she echoes, the question evident in her voice. ”Well, of course I play.” Pause. ”Don't you?”
She knows nothing of his wariness for those horses with traits, nor of his father. Perhaps she has seen him from the sky, but certainly she has never met him. She has met so few since her mother had left her, barely a weanling, with nary a glance backwards. And until now, she had not known just what she had been missing.
Of course, if the rest are as wary as he, this could easily be exhausting work.
But for now she is content, happy to see and learn and do. And this young colt seems to be working just as well for this venture as any other might.
”Do you want to play? she asks, tilting her head curiously. Without waiting for a response, her red roan coat flashes to black before she is shrinking, feathers bursting through her skin as she morphs swiftly into the familiar form of the raven.
Glancing up at him with beady black eyes, she offers a loud caw before stretching her wings wide and bursting into the air. With an ease born if practice, she flies to the colt before dropping to land upon his withers.
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.
