"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
I look from one to the other, his kind eyes, her wicked tongue. The fairy flits by gifting me with a bloody pink mess of feathers. I squeeze my lids shut covering the blue of my eyes, along with the pain I endure. I…I think so, thank you, risking a peek at the newly formed appendages I cringe in horror at them averting my eyes almost immediately. The other female keeps talking, and I listen trying to avoid thinking of the pain. For a moment it works, I smile to myself wondering if the girl meant independent, or dependable. I am sure that she couldn’t possibly have meant to say dependent. In this moment my eyes widen, and I wonder at where I could have learned such proper language. It only sinks in after a faint memory of the lessons at the castle tickle my senses. Not only had the fairies gifted me with wings, but the quest before that had cursed me with ability to use proper words, and sometimes even some elegant speech when I do choose to talk in more than one sentence at a time.
I am torn though, looking to the male I can see a tenderness there, looking to the female I see a strength in her eyes. Both of whom I am jealous of, it starts with a surge of anger. I hate the world, I hate how it steals my life, how I pine for another’s, I hate how I fear everything around me, I hate how I cling so tightly that others bleed around me. I see that tenderness, and I know he does not deserve the bloody clench of my jaw when I get desperate for attention. I look to her and feel that acrid taste of jealousy sweep through. Yes, I would take, for once in my life I take instead of pine. So I smile to them, thank you both for your offers, and while I would love to meet you again Archam. I think I do need to find another path for my life. I turn to begin the trek to the Amazons. There I would meet her once more, there I would learn the secrets to being strong.
Life could begin again, it could be new and refreshing. I have wings now, I have admirers, I have a child, I had love. My life has been a full one, a good one, even if I couldn’t see it just yet. How many horses have a chance like this? To live every path, and follow every dream that they have ever had? Yet here I am, and here I have that exact chance. Making my way through the brush of the forest the sounds of snapping twigs, the feel of snagging vines almost has me panicking. It doesn’t send me all the way over the edge though, I continue forward small tears swelling in the corner of my eyes feathers are ripped from their newly formed roots, I still can’t lift the new wings. They drag along the ground leaving a trail of weeping pink behind me. Bronzed with dirt and dried blood finally I break through the pine trees and berry bushes. I break free from the last barrier shimmering with a light coat of sweat. Looking around me I take a step towards the border ready to begin my new life.
The smell of blood is pungent in the air something that was common from time to time, as many predators linger within the canopy. Kills were often stumbled upon every so often, as Celeana had grown accustom to the scent of capybara blood as they were a common victim of snakes and even the black jaguar that was once of the Spirit of the Jungle. This blood is not fresh, for it would have the common odor of a fresh kill. So as the speckled mare grows closer to the scent she spots a pink individual in the foliage. "Nixie!" She calls trotting through the brush and lush vegetation to greet the pink mare she had met previously in the field.
She looked awful, her newly gifted wings dragged on the ground stained with the evidence of died blood and dirt, as feathers seemed to be missing from the girl's new limbs. "I'm so glad to see you.. I-are you alright?" Her verdant hues direct down to her wings as she can see the welling within her eyes as tears seemed to create magenta tear-marks upon her pink coat. Her ebony lobes flick as the annoying vocals of a howler monkey sounded from behind her. She had never truly been a sentimental mare, for the exception of the few that she kept close. She had always kept her emotions away from the matter at hand but she couldn't help but allow herself to show kindness to a future sister.
"Ummm. Here you can rinse your wings in a nearby stream. It's not that much of a walk." She trots beside the magenta mare, even though in the field she showed strength and little emotion. She wanted to help and make this mare feel like was home, that she had someone to actually lean on literally in fact. Placing herself up and under one of Nixie's new wings, the mare gently placed the weight of the new limb on her back. "Come on. Let's just hope the crocodiles didn't move upstream." She allowed herself to laugh before guiding the mare into the depths of her homeland.
Awww... I really wanted to make Celeana have a friend. Sorry it took so long! >.<
@[Nixie]
There’s hope for the Jungle yet. She’d been pleasantly surprised by the turnout at her first meeting (seven!), and is even more pleased by the recent activity of her sisters. Their kingdom is alive … not the most active … but alive. And they can only grow from here.
Her mind flips through next steps for the kingdom as she continues on her usual sweep of the borders. There are kingdoms to vist, alliances to be offered and solidified …
So much to do, and so little time.
She’s reaching the northern most point of the border when a faint scent attracts her attention and her ears perk to listen as her nostrils flair to better catch the scent. Two mares. One she recognizes - Celeana - but the other is a stranger. Both scents are intertwined together, as if Celeana met the stranger at the border and entered together … but there’s something else in the scent. Blood.
Her concern is peaked, so she too turns inward into the Jungle to follow their trail. She tracks them for a few minutes, noting the crushed foliage in their wake, and the lack of fresh bloody left on the trail. The injury is not fresh, whomever it belongs to.
Eventually the sound of two horses crashing through the underbrush reaches her ears and she lets out a nicker to let them know she is approaching.
When they finally come into sight her eyes immediately begin to inspect Celeana. When she’s satisfied that it’s not her Sister that is injured, she finally begins to eye the newcomer. She barely spares a passing thought for the lurid colour of the mare’s coat, fixing in on the dried blood staining the mare’s coat. “Celeana, is your friend alright?”
