"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
12-04-2016, 12:06 AM (This post was last modified: 12-04-2016, 12:13 AM by Lior.)
I look inside myself
Winter had melted away in a drip-drip-drop to the spring. Very rarely had Lior shown any desire for much other than to graze and return to his cave in the mountain. It was the quiet that restored him, grounded him, pieced back the bits of sanity that had kept him safe from the ugliness that went on outside in the real world.
But just as Beqanna does, his home was taken from him.
The day, not so long ago, when he had ventured out in search of nourishment led him off from the damp entrance. Onyx lips plucked at the newly green grass of summer as the sun beat upon his back mercilessly but-
(a fleeting moment)
-was the groan of ground, the eerie quiet that prickles the skin in heighten awareness before he saw from up high on the mountain, a land slide. It seemed like forever and mere seconds all jumbled into one but the result was the same...as the dust cleared, the cave was no more. Small shards of pain splinted his heart as he bore witness to the loss of his home. Hot anger and feral shrieks should consume him, eat him, make him respond in the most monstrous way but mercury eyes simply stare as he lips drew flatly into a frown. Without a second's thought, the heavy black stallion moves on.
The field, in all respects, is a purgatory.
The field is a waiting room for the lost and destination-less. Lior is no different in that sense. With the coax of homelessness, the dark male decides he would move on and attempt a different path than the one he carved out for himself.
Besides, there are always plenty of caves for reclusive, fickle beasts such as himself. Pewter pools glide over the layout of the land with mild interest. Heavy hind hoof lifts and cocks when he finds a comfortable place to rest as he lay in wait for someone to come find his rather cantankerous self and extend an invitation to join their home. The stallion was not one to be overly choosy after living like a feral creature for years.
The forest banked against the Taiga, and next to that was the Field. Coming from the meadow, the only way to get home was to cross it day in and day out. His favorite watering hole was indeed just on the other side of the ridge from here, and he bounded out with sure-footed grace. His tail flipped up over his rump, and he looked back, his black/brown eyes preening the horizon looking for his mother. She was somewhere around here, and now with her blood restored, she was up to her old tricks—and he was constantly playing hide and seek with her. He smiled, black lips peeled back against his teeth as he bounded across the field, his short mane bobbing against his neck. High legged kicks felt great against the soft grass blades as it crossed his legs. When all of a sudden—
“Whoomf—“
He falls backward on his rump, shakes his soft little black head and turns about, his gaze widening at the large shadow casted across himself and the field. He turns, and looks up; his mouth is wide open and his ears go back. He starts to tremble, staring at the great black man with wonder. He gulps. “..Hh…Hi there…”
A child is the first to 'greet' the large black beast. Mercury filled pools rotate in their sockets to eye the child after he has stumbled back to plop ungracefully at the large feathered hooves. Lior had certainly not expected this and so lowers his thick head to further inspect the youth with a scrutinizing eye.
A large inhale reveals a scent on the boy's skin. It is local and Lior had noticed this upon the pelt of a few mares that he had encountered since the Reckoning. It is a great tree choked land but Lior has heard good things of the different lands in Beqanna. "Boy-" the rumble of his words are remnants of angry purple thunderheads on the horizon, "where is your mother?" The stallion is not stupid and knows where there be a child then there was usually a rather frantic mother prepared to take a chunk of his hide.
Poll lifts as the male scans his surrounding area for a mother calling for a child. So far, none had come searching and any other horse would be alarmed or have concern but Lior simply looks back down at the colt with a dulled, slightly annoyed expression. From homeless caveman to babysitter...the fun never stops. Lior wondered briefly is this was it or if any other should find him in the field, not to mention, he wasn't exactly the best horse out there to watch over a child.
She doesn’t expect to see him here, but her eyes do not mistake his burly silhouette concealed by numerous bodies interrupting her path. He is taller than some and his long-lying forelock flares wildly across his face. Underneath the gentle sunlight Nayl quivers with anticipation. A smile tries desperately to break her stony face, but she is able to subdue it as she forces herself to glance away and compose herself. Something about him entices her; it could be that vagabond demeanor or the strength that ripples underneath his onyx coat. No matter the reason Nayl doesn’t hesitate for long as she pushes aside her better judgment so that she may once again be near him.
The child is hardly a distraction to her. Nayl spares the boy a sideways glance and a quiet snarl. At this point and time, she has no interest or patience for children, especially not one that is outside her own bloodline.
Immediately, Nayl’s eyes lift and they are bright and curious. ”Lior,” she tastes his name and while it settles tantalizingly on her tongue it’s still spoken in a voice far stronger and much more like a soldier. ”Fancy seeing you in the Field,” a single step draws her closer and when his scent wraps around her she can no longer restrain a terse smile. ”Perhaps now you can come home with me to Nerine?” Her gaze flickers toward where he once indicated his cave lied before looking back to him with a curious tilt of her head. ”Unless your home is needing tending.”
She can’t help but hope that it isn’t, and that he will come to Nerine to be hers.
Of course the boy is not alone. His spots mark him well, and his mother knows this. So as Iasan is left to scramble for words to reply to the big hairy man he so carelessly ran into, there is enough time for another woman to side-step him, barely giving him the time of day. Words fall from her mouth like sticky sweet wine dripping to the ground, promising a home, and quite possibly something else if the bearded one were to make a home with her. Iasan does not know her. He does not care. But he stands up, and looks up at the big man, finally finding his words. “She is certainly nearby, Sir.” His body does not move, but his eyes waver to the other, and notice the way she slinks in to make her kill—perhaps like a viper slithering after a mouse. Iasan does not know politics. He is far too young for the shenanigan nonsense of grown-ups. He looks back at the man, still standing in his shadow, braving his fear to talk again.
“My name is Iasan. You…like Caves? We have caves. I…p..play in them whenever Mama and I are home with my sisters…Sir.” He shuffles his feet. Feeling out of place and silently begging his mother to show back up, he finds himself in the middle of a political scandal in the making.
Little does he know Reagan is watching. She is always watching.
Within Lior’s shadow—as it was cast across the field—it is seen that the shadow begins to move of its own accord. It stretches and moves, and a soft echo sounds across the expanse, as the shadow becomes flesh, and suddenly, where there was nothing…Stands a grey mare with green-tinged hair and dark grey points. Iasan is happy to see her—of course he is—but for the first time, he makes no move to go to her. Reagan finds that she is proud of her son for keeping his stance. She looks past the stallion, to the other woman. “Nayl.” She nods, the other female known to her. She could care less where the queen of the Coast gets her rocks off. She says nothing else. Iasan must learn to do this for himself.
The child, small and innocent, softens the stallion. Silver eyes watch as he stands in an agape awe at his feet. Lior's brow furrows slighty as he is not sure what to do next with the boy. Just as the steel trap of his jaw creaks open once again, a familiar fog and alabaster is captured as she is moving closer to him. The scent of Nayl pings something feral in his blood. Her smaller, velvet form's steps are not missed by the pewter pools. He can see her muscles working in her jaw, the rotation of glinting eyes. For the moment, the child is forgotten.
"Nayl". He breathes in the spice of her perfume, his voice low and gritty as her name tiptoes across his tongue. Lior enjoys the way the smile breaks through her chiseled marble features. He does not return it but instead slightly lifts a brow out of surprise to see how much more prettily it made her.
The moment dissipates when a gray and green tinged mare moves before him. She is quiet with her sorcery, a keen eye and brilliant mind, Lior knows this much just by observing the way she looks over his scarred black form. The child, clearly restraining, is happy to see her...must be the mother. Lior gives a polite dip of his poll after the granite woman greets Nayl with a respectful but curt nod. The stallion observes an exchange less than enthusiastically executed. From the dark forelock, he observes the mother fall quiet. Lior is not quite sure what else he should really do next. Nayl was the first to offer a home...little Iasan seemed to be directionless in his next move and his mother stood by without any cues.
Truthfully, the dark man would have gone to any home that had been offered first but it did seem a bit more helpful to actually know the leader of Nerine but it was not predicted. Little Iasan was not expected to ask a stranger to his home right away and so Lior forgives him and his quiet mother. With a small tugging smile, Lior taps the young boy on his head and looks down. "It was very nice to meet you, Iasan. Perhaps one day you can show me your caves." Pools moves to look to his mother, a small respectful nod given in acknowledgement to her presence before he turns to Nayl. "Show me your Nerine, Nayl." His head bends to meet the soft tuft of her lobes, whiskered lips moving to mark his readiness to see the coast.
