"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
In the early morning all was quiet. A gentle breeze set the tall grasses of the meadow to swaying lightly against the towering knights lower legs. The golden hue of the sun crisped grass was striking against his charcoal colored limbs. Just as the climbing orange of sunrise on the horizon cast his silvery blue body in bronze. He does not know how long he stood watching the sun regain it's throne in the sky, and nor did he care. The breeze ruffled his newly gained feathers and tossed his mane in his eyes, and still he did not move. The blue roan giant looked more akin to a statue than a living being.
Rocinante was a guardian without a charge. A knight with no kingdom. A sentinel without a watch to keep. In short, he was lost. Since the fall of the Gates, he had stayed lurking in the meadow. He had watched the countless changes in the seasons, every single sunrise, and the downfall of Beqanna on the outside of society. It wasn't the loss of his voice that had broken him. Not the disappearance of his princess that had sent him into solitude. It was the lack of purpose. The pride and chivalry had once held his head high, where now it bowed far lower then mere humility. His appearance reflected the fall of the titan just as easily. Ebon mane and tail, once long and silky, now hung bedraggled and tangled with leaves and burrs. His new wings were missing feathers where branches had snagged and he was simply to indifferent to care.
The days seemed to blur together, a series of avoiding those that also called the meadow home and wandering in a fugue waiting for...something. Today would be no different to him, of that he was sure, but then why was he lingering those extra moments. The sun was up and shining, casting light on those that would need it and when he would normally scurry back to hide. So what was different today? He stood silently, a lone herald welcoming in the new day, hoping he would get an answer. It had been far too long since he had one.
02-12-2017, 04:38 PM (This post was last modified: 02-12-2017, 05:21 PM by Raeg'n.)
-Raeg'n-
Do you even breathe anymore?
Her voice rang out hard and boldly toward him, blunt as always, the thrumming toll of Heaven's bell.
She studied him skeptically, bright amber eyes peering warily from the dark color of a night sky. Sunlight sparkled across her celestial color like glitter, the twinkle of stars deeply embedded in each navy blue hair. She was young yet, just barely of breeding age though the idea never crossed her mind. Too focused, too full of her life's purpose. He was nearby, her purpose, her ward. She could sense him beyond her, playing as boys should. He was never far from her senses, even as she stared at this strange sight of a man frozen and staring at the sun as though he saw nothing at all.
Satisfied he would not move for a moment, her eyes flit across to her boy, Ruan, and back again. Not her child, she was too young; not her brother, they were too different. The colt was growing stronger, a silver star to her night sky, and would soon train for sparring with her. She needed an opponent to keep her sharp, and he needed to learn to protect himself in case she were to ever fall. In case Death ever came for him again and she could not be there to step in this time. And he would come again, Death. He was not yet done with the boy, and she would remain in his life until she knew he was safe.
The man before her was a more natural sort of blue, an almost black as it faded away at his middle similar to the grullo of little Ruan's coat. He was large, too. Huge and muscular, and were he black she'd might have a shiver of fear tingle down her spine from a dark memory. Or two. But she didn't. Instead, she stared at him openly, studying the strength of him as though he knew how to forge himself into a weapon at a moment's notice. A little smile tightened the corner of her mouth, and molten gold eyes rose to meet his.
Know how to dance, then, do you? She asked vaguely with an eager gleam in her eyes, and a wicked tilt to her lips. A warrior would know what she meant, would take in her slender but toned figure and recognize at once that she was built and trained to fight, to protect. She shifted casually, her stance sliding subtly into a very different message. A challenge. Ready and waiting.
02-12-2017, 06:47 PM (This post was last modified: 02-12-2017, 06:48 PM by Rocinante.)
THERE'S A HOLE IN MY HEART
and I don't know why
Do you even breath anymore?
The woman's voice cut across the still morning air like the crack of a whip. It shocked him, but he did not register the surprise, did not twitch a muscle. What kind of statue would he be if the presence of a stranger broke his vigil?
With a casual slowness, he turned his massive skull to meet her eye. The mare that stands before him, confrontational in her posture, is surely a sight to behold. Her Navy coat seemed to glow, gilded in the sunlight like a star. Her mane a fire, catching the early morning rays. In the end however it was her eyes that captivated him most. Her molten gold orbs held his deep brown boldly, and it was enough to jog at a part of himself thought long buried. Hers was the first company that he had had in many years, and he knew it showed terribly. He was a ragged mess, but even the dirt and solitude couldn't completely hide the warrior he once was. And who's to say that his chivalrous nature was completely dead.
Turning himself with carefully measured steps, he faces her more squarely. Sizing her up and fluttering his gargantuan wings to settle them more comfortably. He follows her gaze across the meadow to where a young boy is frolicking with others his age. The look she gives the boy is one that the knight is intimately familiar with. He remembers how proud he was when he had his own charge, his own princess, and the pain shoots through as poignant as when he failed her.
At the mare's second question, he merely bobs his head before dropping to one knee in a low bow. He may not have much, but he still had his manners. Even though she looked quite capable, this strange mare was still a lady and should be treated with respect. As he straightened from his bow, Rocinante looked first from the mare before pointedly tossing his head towards the boy, a question in his eyes. He tried opening and closing his mouth then shaking his head to show his lack of voice, but more then likely she just thought him mad. How desperately he wished he could speak. Whether to ask questions or to make excuses to leave he didn't know for certain, but at least he would be able to ask her name.
02-12-2017, 10:23 PM (This post was last modified: 02-14-2017, 07:53 AM by Raeg'n.)
-Raeg'n-
His large head turned so slowly to her, meeting her bright gaze evenly and cool. She paid no mind to his disheveled appearance -perhaps he always looked that way- and watched with interest as his body followed that turn and squared up with hers. Massive wings at his side ruffled and fluttered as he resettled them and her eyes caught on the movement, a brief flash of pain in her eyes and then gone again. Lauchlan. He used to have wings too, and had been so broken when they were gone and his magic -his curse- was returned to him. Where was he these days? And did he hate her..
She observed them a moment longer. Were she a real angel, perhaps she'd have wings too.
Quickly wiping away the shadows in her eyes, she asked him if he knew how to dance. He nodded, then dropped to a knee. Her ears pulled back warily and she jerked her chin up and to the side to stare down at him. What game is this? She'd never seen anyone do that move, and she couldn't find the strategy to it. It looked stupidly vulnerable to her, but maybe that was the point as he straightened again, still without any intent to attack her. Damn if he wasn't as strange as people seemed to think she was. She dashed that thought away.
He did another odd move, tossed his head in Ruan's direction, then his mouth opened and closed as though he were a gasping fish out of water. Her pretty brows furrowed as she stared at him. Maybe he was touched by madness. He didn't seem to be though as he shook his head purposefully -though she wasn't sure what that purpose was. Some kind of infliction then, an impairment maybe. She recognized the glint of a question in his eyes though, and inwardly shrugged the rest away as odd but unimportant.
Him? she asked uncertainly. That's my boy Ruan. He was near starved to death with a Demon standing over him when I found him. She spoke matter-of-factly, simply stating things how they were. She knew no other way of it. The demon -Death, Deimos- will return one day and so I am his until he is freed from the wicked brute. I protect him.
She was strong and sure, and her voice never wavered, even as her heart grew heavier at her secret reality; that she had a weakness and she may yet fail him and fall before she can save him. She had been working on it, trying to extend her stamina and counter it, but her time of training had halted abruptly when she found him that day and placed herself before him as a shield.
You don't speak? she looked at him quizzically, coming to the belated conclusion as he'd used his head-jerks to speak for him. It was really his eyes that did the talking, though she wasn't sure it was polite to say so.
He watches her carefully as she spoke of her boy. She was strong and steady. Voice unwavering, eyes bright but guarded. A warrior. And she was all alone. His thoughts get pulled back to the days before the change in the land. Back when he was a simple man who had pledged his allegiance to a mute princess. Now all that he had left were his tattered memories and no voice to call out. Often he felt that he had spent too long in his own company, and had he still had his voice it probably would have faded with disuse anyway. Now, watching the Sapphire girl and her charge, he felt a light that he hadn't in a long time. He wanted to help.
He knew that he probably wasn't wanted in their party of two, but she had been the only one to show interest in the gentle giant in so long that he felt indebted to her. He wanted to keep her safe and aid her in protecting the boy. Rocinante was a warrior and he would fight to protect them if she would let him.
You don't speak?
The question jars him from the thoughts running rampant through his head. She looks at him not with pity, but with curiosity, and for that he is eternally grateful. With a short nod he confirms the pantomime that he had so poorly executed. His lack of a voice had never bothered him after the fall of the Gates, and he would gladly give it up for his princess a thousand times over, but still he wanted nothing more than a simple conversation with this sapphire girl. From one guardian to another.
In a split second decision, he asks an important question in the only way he knows how. Ducking his head to his chest, the knight waits half a heartbeat before pointedly turning to look at where Ruan plays. He waits another heartbeat more before returning his eyes to meet the sapphire warrioress'. He would follow the duo and keep them safe if she would let him. Besides, he knows how lonely the path of a guardian be, and two sentinels are better than one when the darkness finally comes.
He gave a nod to her question, that he could not speak. There was no pain in his eyes, no self-pity or anguish. She admired that about him, that he was either born with it or had to accept it later in life and did not seem self-conscious about it in the least. That he was solid, sure. A guardian.
She saw the shift in his eyes a moment before he motioned his request, recognized the light of purpose and the glint of determination, a decision made. Resolute. Her eyes slid away from him, looking to her boy though perhaps not really seeing him. She knew what the man asked, what he had offered, but she was reluctant to drag more bodies into this hell with them. Their enemy was dark and dangerous, wielding unimaginable power.
Her breath hitched and her eyes darkened as the memories of her encounter with him replayed unbidden, unwanted. The images of him attacking, lashing out, claws of dragon's wings digging into her, gripping her and holding her close as he drank from her. Not once, but twice. Delicate lips pressed to a thin line and she pulled herself back from that darkness, back to this man and his offer of aid.
Deep down, that gaping lack in her, that weakness, glared back at her as though wondering why she bothered to think on it, why she didn't immediately take up his offer. She did need him, someone, more than she'd ever let him and Ruan know. She would be a fool to deny him.
You will help me train him, she countered, bartered with this warrior as her star-gold eyes met his. The boy needed to be able to protect himself.
She didn't insult him by warning him of the danger, by giving him an easy out as though he didn't know what he was doing, what he was risking. He was a guardian, it was clear to her in his thick muscles and those deep eyes that had surely seen much more than she had, in that glint of steel that told her he was not easily swayed. This was his choice, confident in his own decision, and she did need help. She would. She just wouldn't let them learn of it if she could help it.
And you will spar with me.Alot, she added silently. Her training had been cut short, she needed this. She needed him to push her. Hair the nebula orange of lost galaxies billowed around her as she held his gaze evenly, awaiting his agreement. But there was one more thing to make clear.
the feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
P
urpose - what is a life without purpose? One could ask the magicians, the immortal, the angels of the world. Those who live forever - who cannot make friend nor foe, because each and every one dies before they. What sense is there in life, when death never awaits? What is there to do, when nothing is lurking behind you. For Kilter, Death was at his doorstep (or he at Death’s, I suppose) - and still he had no purpose. Still he frolicked like a child, the purpose laying all on Raeg’n, the fire-haired angel. It was she who kept him alive, who kept him growing, who kept him just an inch away from Death.
Kilter had followed obediently - where his Angel went, he followed. Above all else, he trusted in her. As the days passed, blurred like an oil painting across the sky, his old life slowly slipped away. It seemed so long ago, far too long, that he was one with the wolves. The Valley wolves and their magic were most certainly gone by now, running themselves into the ocean, devoured by the mountain, crushed by the unknown. Ruan, that steady soldier amongst the pines, the one to witness his voice - well he was most likely gone too, torn adrift with the old Beqanna gone asunder. His father, his mother, the other two of his trio of triplets - all gone. It was just he and his Angel. And even, on the good days, he forgot that Death lurked. He forgot that the twinge of darkness encroached on his hearth. The day of the blizzard, the day his Angel came to him and wrenched him from Death’s grip, seemed so far away.
Today, it was the meadow. Kilter followed his Angel, as he always did - a new day, a new adventure. They had roamed the deserted lands of Pangea, they had traveled to the coastline of Nerine, they had met in the forest - Beqanna was theirs, and wherever they ached to go, they traveled. As he grew older, Raeg’n grew more lax - Kilter could roam farther, converse on his own, explore the land - but always, when he looked up, she was watching.
Today was no different, as he cavorted through the meadow, there was always his Angel’s eyes upon his back. She was mostly content to graze, to spar with the oaks and redwoods, to watch carefully. But this time, when he looked up from his meandering, his Angel was with someone else - someone who was also watching, nodding towards his silver form. Kilter’s ears perked up, his eyes locking on to the beast in front of his Angel - and quickly decided to make his way over. His ever growing legs brought him quickly across the meadow, and he stopped short in front of Raeg’n, lightly bumping her shoulder with his nose before turning to the stoic, and very large stallion, before him. “Hello. I am Ruan.” He looks to his Angel, his eyes quizzical, before turning to the dark shadow before them - “And this is my Angel. Who are you?”
You will help me train him
He nods. And you will spar with me
He nods. His life above all others
With a smile and no sign of hesitation he nods.
A warmth fills his chest as she agrees, and the smile that he returns is a gorgeous one filled with pride and purpose. He bows his head low to her, a sign of respect and deference. He would follow this woman with fire in her hair and her heart to the ends of Beqanna and back for as long as she would let him. It had been too long since he had a reason to be the warrior that he was, and the faith that she had extended towards a complete stranger was touching. He would not fail her as he had others before. She was his reason to be, and though she was strong in her own right with a charge of her own, Rocinante made it his silent mission to keep the Navy girl safe and happy for as long as he drew breath.
The titan does not know how long he stood watching the girl, wind gently ruffling his feathers, before they are joined by the boy. With calculated slowness, Rocinante turns his gentle gaze to the child. Though he won't be called child for much longer. The grullo boy still carries the awkwardness of youth, but his limbs are losing their gangliness and he seems to be filling out, though still small. Rocinante takes one look of the boy up close and easily understands why he needs protection. Rocinante bows low on one knee before the boy, tucking his head close to his chest in a show of respect. As he regains his feet, the giant repeats his silent pantomime to show his lack of a voice.
When the boy speaks it is calmly, though questions linger in his eyes, at least Rocinante has names. The boy, Ruan, introduces the Navy woman as his Angel, and Rocinante cannot think of a more fitting title as it seems she saved them both.
He nodded to each of her terms, smiling with the last one that reflected softly on the blue of her lips. He ducked his head low, and it was as loud to her as the voice he didn't have. I will follow you. I will help you. She gave a short nod back, acknowledging what he couldn't say in words, and turned to seek out Ruan once again.
He had already noticed them, and came to a halt before her with a brief touch to her shoulder. She found herself mirroring his action, though she'd never been very affectionate, her nose brushing against his mane instead before retracting. The silver-gray boy introduced himself with a curious glance at her, "and this is my Angel. Who are you?"
Their new friend bowed low to Ruan as he had to Raeg'n earlier, then again tried to explain that he couldn't speak. She smiled and nudged her boy playfully, somehow at peace that he was near again. I am Raeg'n, she offered with a breathy laugh, unaware of the blush that warmed her face at her given title: Angel. Somehow it felt wrong to let him think it was her real name, dishonest, despite that she may never know his.
Bright, amber eyes settled on Ruan. He can't speak, she explained lightly, just a simple fact. But perhaps we can give him a name? She shrugged apologetically at the warrior, sorry that they may never know his true name and hoping he didn't mind a new one. How 'bout... Raksha, she tested, looking between them both for approval. It was short but strong, a solid name like Ruan's. It means Guardian. She smiled, her eyes dancing with amusement. It wasn't perfect, but perhaps it would do.
R A E G ' N!
She flinched violently at the sudden voice in her mind, dodging low and tense as if she expected it to beat her physically. Her eyes slammed shut and she grit her teeth against it, both fear and anger rising within her in unison. She wasn't sure how long she remained that way, breathing shallow and waiting for the echo to fade away and then tension in her head to dissipate before she slowly shook her head and opened her eyes with a groan. She met the Guardian's gaze with a grave meaning behind it. It's time.. He calls for us, she whispered, then shifted to make sure Ruan was ok; hoping he didn't have to go through the same burst of power in his head.
@[Toli] @[Rocinante]
We can move this to a new thread in Pangea if that works!
Kilte
R
the feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
R
aeg’n - she speaks his name, a proper introduction- and he almost forgets his Angel has a true name. It makes sense, really- otherwise, how could the gods call them out one by one? But they gods, they had many angels, and Kilter only had his own. The man before him bows low, respect and solidarity emanating from him, his silence speaking volumes. Kilter understood now, the silent man was now one with them.
Kilter’s head cocks slightly, listening to the Angel explain. Their new companion was mute, silenced by the gods for whatever reason. He nodded slightly, Rashka - it was fitting for him. Raeg’n and Rashka - his Angel and his Might. “My mother could speak to you.” He speaks plainly, putting the pieces together. “My siblings, too.” He looks to Raeg’n, knowing he has always said little about his family in the past. “And even father. They can speak into your mind.”
He is quiet after that, pondering briefly of where they were, and why he was so unlike them. His mind was nothing special - no secrets or speciality that would allow him the power that the rest of his family so seemed to have. He was helpless - aided only by his Angel and the silent knight.
But the silence did not linger for long. His had split open in a vast network of pain, Death’s voice singing throughout his skull, a loud and timbrous baritone. His eyes squeeze shut, his head ringing with his name from Death’s mouth. He opens his eyes wide, the tremor of pain and fear in his eyes, as he seeks out his Angel. He nods slightly, his face slack with the pain and fear growing inside him. “I know.” His voice is resigned, and his fate unknown.
