"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
Maiara urged her tired legs to keep moving, as she navigated the dense forest. She'd digressed from a full out gallop, to a swift canter, then a sluggish trot, and finally to the grudging walk she was at now. She'd been moving for three days straight, only stopping for short periods of time to rest her weary muscles and get a quick drink. She'd been too nervous to stop to sleep even for a few hours. The branches and brambles tugged at her long white mane, and every now and then had to stop and jerk her head to free it. Roots caught her hooves as she drug them forward wearily. Thorns from the bushes she was wading through made thin red scratches across her pasterns, dying the white hair red.
She was fighting to keep her eyes open as she saw a break in the trees ahead. Her ears perked up, suddenly wide awake as she she picked up her pace to a lively walk. She broke through the trees with an excited whinny, attracting the attention of several mares grazing nearby. She lowered her head sheepishly, still wary of her surroundings. She wandered away from the mares to a shady patch under a tree, where she stood alone, for the first time reveling in the solitude.
She leaned down catching a few mouthfuls of sweet clover, closing her eyes to embrace the flavor. Suddenly overcome with a wave of fatigue, Maiara folded her long legs, bent her dark muzzle to her chest and for the first time in three days, rested.
The iron stallion stands at the edge of the field, metal eyes surveying the mares and stallions that populate the field. It’s all a little pathetic. They flit about, whoring themselves out in order to find a place to call ‘home.’ The kingdom recruiters are equally sad - promising everything and nothing in order to add a few more points to their name, and help them climb the ranks in their kingdom. There’s so little loyalty these days.
He snorts in disgust and steps forward, flat eyes scanning for anyone to approach. He had considered returning to the Valley originally. It had been his birthplace after all. But the kingdom has clearly fallen far since Elite’s days of glory. Elite had made the Valley a place of power - all of the other kingdom’s had feared it and, in the end, fought against it. In Elite’s days they had had a God. Now they have nothing but a pint-sized magician.
No, he will not return to live in the Valley. Not under Eight’s rule, anyhow. Instead he will carve out his own little kingdom, his own little herd land. But first he needs mares.
He would prefer mythicals of course - the purest blood is always best. But Beqanna’s blood has become watered down these days, and the unworthy are everywhere. So he will need to make do.
He suddenly spots a pretty young mare, lying in the shade of a large, old tree. Except for an unusually light coat, she is unremarkable. She will make a good place to start.
Plastering a friendly smile on his face (he always could turn on the charm when he so chose), he trots up to her, and stops a respectful distance away. “Hello there! I’m Khaos! Are you by any chance looking for a home?”
Maira's head snapped up at the sound of hoofbeats approaching. Alarmed, she unfolded her legs and lurched unsteadily to her feet. Still groggy from her short nap, she squinted her eyes at the stallion who approached her. Even though he was still a good distance away from her, she tossed her head and pinned her ears flat on her head. Her cloudy blue eyes narrowed on the horse in front of her. She tossed her long mane around and reared up high, knocking a piece of her hair over her withers and revealing the long gash on her shoulder that had only recently morphed into a scar. Landing steadily on the ground again, the lock of hair slipped back into place and the scar was once again covered. She tossed her darkly tipped muzzle in the air again, the smokey rims around her eyes enhancing the light blue color as they scrutinized the horse in front if her.
Although the stallion stopped a safe distance away from her, she still stumbled back a few steps, her muscles coiled and ready to run at the first sign of threat. She didn't know what he wanted, or why he was here, until he started talking that is. "Hello there! I'm Khaos! Are you by any chance looking for a home?" She kept her wary gaze trained on him, looking directly into his eyes and seeing that they were lacking the sincerity that his smile was hinting at. But what could she do? She didn't know anyone, didn't know where she was and had absolutely no protection out here in the open. Unfortunately, she didn't know who or what she would need protection from. She eyed the stallion again considering her options.
"I'm Maira. And that depends. What is this place, and what is it that you want with me?"
The instant his hoofbeats thud through the thick grass, the mare is up and stumbling, scrambling to get a good look at him. He’s instantly glad that he had decided to take the charming approach - his appearance (17 hands of purest iron) can be alarming enough on its own. He actually needs to get the mare back to his herd before he can let his true personality show.
At least now he can get a better look at her. With her standing on her feet, he can get a better appreciation for her looks. She’s acceptably pretty - tall and white, with a powerful frame. Excellent for bearing his young, if it comes to that. Which remains to be seen - the mare is quite wary of him already. Pity.
He continues to lay on the polite persona however. Perhaps if he keeps it up long enough, she will warm up to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Maira. And well, it depends upon which place you mean. This little territory we stand in is just called the Field. It’s where horses that do not have homes go to search for a home. The entire land we are in is called Beqanna however.” She must truly be a foreigner if she doesn’t even have an idea of the land itself. Hopefully that means she is all the more desperate for a place to stay. “As for myself, well, I’m trying to start a herd. But I need mares to start that herd!” He makes his smile brighten, and inserts a hopeful tone in his voice. “Would you at all be interested?”
He switches tact next. “What brings you to Beqanna? You must be from far away if you haven’t heard of it before!” Her caution makes him wonder if she’s running from something.
Hey! Welcome to Beqanna! Just so you know, the name Maira has already been used. If her name is actually spelled Maiara like you have on her joining post, feel free to just ignore this. xD
Maiara narrowed her eyes on the strange horse in front of her, wary of the stallion's charming smile. She listened to his description of this new place. She stared blankly past the stallion, her mind wandering as it had a tendency to do. It had gotten her in trouble so often...she shook her head with a soft whicker, trying to eradicate the sounds and images of flailing hooves and the cries of horses that so often plagued her thoughts and dreams. She returned the stallions gaze towards the end of his little speech, forcing her mind from the past back into the present. "...The entire land we are in is called Beqanna however." She nodded her head and met his eyes with her icy blue ones, hopefully giving the impression that she had been listening this entire time. She had, however caught the important bits, even through her daze; the field is where you go if you don't have a home. That was quite fitting, in an ironic sort of way, she didn't have a home. Not anymore.
"As for myself, well, I'm trying to start a herd. But I need mares to start that herd!" She broke eye contact again and stared over his head, (although that was quite a feat considering his considerable height and bulk) ah, so that was it. She would be another mare in a harem, and be forced to bend to the will of a domineering stallion. She'd seen it happen way too many times before, and did not want it to happen to her. "Would you at all be interested?" She sighed and met his eyes once again, starting to respond before he continued, "What brings you to Beqanna? You must be from far away if you haven't heard of it before!"The pale mare nodded slightly. "Um yes I am," She fought the urge to drop her eyes to the ground in an act of submission, "Look, I'm not sure. I just...well I just got away from something very...bad. Forgive me for being a bit cautious of jumping into something that could, potentially, evolve into something like that."
Her eyes widened slightly, surprised at own outburst. Her blue eyes roamed over his body, and, letting her curiosity get the best of her, she blurted, "What exactly are you anyway?" Her mother always told her that her inquisitive and challenging nature would be her downfall. "I-I'm sorry," she mumbled, giving in and letting her probing gaze drift from the stallion's body to her hooves.
05-27-2015, 02:32 AM (This post was last modified: 05-27-2015, 07:11 PM by Khaos.)
He can tell that it’s not just him that’s making the mare nervous. As he speaks, the mare’s attention seems to drift, as though lost in some sort of thought or memory. She even seems to have difficulty meeting his eye - a clear sign of some sort of damaged past, he thinks. He takes note of the way that she avoids giving full answers to his questions. It appears this conversation might not work out well in his favour after all.
But, there’s still hope. Instead of an outright no, she’s giving him nervous uncertainties. And a little window into her past. He’d been right - she’s damaged goods. “That’s alright! I understand not wanting to jump into something immediately, especially when you’re so new to a land.” He understands alright. He just wishes she wasn’t smart and cautious enough to realize that she should be careful. “Perhaps you could travel around to some of the kingdoms and little territories to get to know the land better? I could always show you around Forlorn Forest - it’s the herd land I hope to claim when I actually get mares.” And then when he has her in his herd land …
It’s perhaps lucky that he hasn’t built up a herd yet. There’s no reputation for her to hear about if she does decide to go visiting the other kingdoms.
He sees her eying his body in curiosity and smiles, waiting for the inevitable question. It slips out of her mouth rather sooner than he expected, considering her skittishness, and he chuckles. It’s not the first time he’s been asked that question, and he’s sure that it won’t be the last. At least he can tell he’s caught her interest in some fashion. “It’s alright. My body is made of metal … iron to be exact. An after effect of being fathered by a God. Or at least, as close to a God as Beqanna has got.” There’s no one more powerful than Carnage here in Beqanna. Or even in the world, Khaos likes to think. “I have a few talents too, if you’d like to see.” He concentrates for a moment, focusing on the soil at his feet. After a few moments the dirt erupts, sending a small ball of iron flying into the air. He holds it in mid air, stretching it out, molding it. Before long he’s holding a long, conical shape, which he attaches to his forehead. It’s easily recognizable as a horn. He grins at her. “Fun, hey?” Inwardly however he’s hoping that she’ll be dazzled enough to follow him.
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