A Rose in the Rain {Heartfire}

[Nymphetamine]

 
The day was bright, the autumn sun hun at its highest point while a gentle breeze moved the few clouds across the bright blue sky. The marbled leaves clung to their branches fighting for one more day, one for hour perch atop of the word before their lofty journey to the ground.  As always the fall brought different sounds, gone were the cicadas of summer but the early migratory birds called daily overhead as they trekked to warmer lands. The temperature was cooling, but there was no nip to the air yet. But all means, today was a beautiful day, one of the lasts before the winter came and made everyone dark, wet, and cold.

Within the stretch of land stood a tall, somewhat lanky, stallion with a red underlay to his bay coat. He was as filled out as he once was, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t regain. By all outward appearances he looked to be shy of 10, but he was old than that, due to the magic that ran through Beqanna. Upon closer inspection sadness consumed his eyes and fine features.  He did not notice the bright pleasant day, as his mind was still processing the sight of the fire along the shore of the beach, the lose of Killdare. He stood in the meadow, where he had first met the green-eyes stallion, and reminisced.   Completely in his own world, he payed little attention to those around him, content with the memories as company.

The recent years since The Reckoning had been the exact opposite of the year before it. Nymphetamine had been a prominent member of Chamber, working to uphold and build the kingdom’s allies and keep the status quo of those they were aligned with. As Killdare’s governor he was constantly working, moving...busy. But those days were gone, his purpose left open like a void chasm. He had spent most his time laying about, with little to no interaction with anyone. It was bothersome, but try as he might he just didn’t seem able to get into the swing of the new Beqanna. He thought maybe it was a need to change his herd affiliation but when it came down to it, he had no wish to break ties with the old alliance that formed new Tephra. So he faded away, retired into the background, but it suited him no more than a different kingdom would have. Stuck. Simply put he was stuck.

The lose of Killdare rattled him, made him wonder if he would ever rise as he had before, would he ever lead a land and emulate those leaders he looked up to? Would he ever be able to keep the promise he made to Killdare up on the Beach shores? Either way, he stood, consumed within his mind, a shadow of who he was, unable to move forward and feeling guilt for it.  

Nymphetamine

in my heart, that barless prison
discolours all with tunnel vision

[Heartfire]

show them the joy and the pain and the ending

Perhaps the one true advantage she can claim is her adaptability. The world may have changed around her, but she had not allowed that to deter her. She had changed too, had used her wiles and unique abilities to secure herself a place in this new Beqanna. She would not lay pliant, would not allow the world to move without her.

She knows though that there are those who struggle. Those to whom this new world is strange and uncomfortable. Indeed, it had been that to Heartfire at first as well. Ill-fitting and uncomfortable, terrible in its unfamiliarity.

But she had refused to allow it to remain so. She has seen enough of the world to know one must either come to terms with the changes or fade into obscurity.

She is curious though. There are those of the old world she remembers. Those who had been everywhere, but whom she sees so rarely now. And she does keep track. In true Heartfire fashion, she has her nose in everyone's business.

As it happens, she was not searching for him, but upon seeing him, her curiosity is piqued.

Fall is beginning to fade into winter, but the day is warm. The trees reach skeletal limbs into the sky, a few tenacious leaves still clinging to branches. The meadow is quiet today, but still she is here. She is frequently here.

The red bay catches her eye, and it takes her only a moment to recognize him. They had been enemies once, but she holds no grudges. He might even make a fine ally were he to rise again the way he once had.

Her lithe form crosses the expanse of the meadow easily, blue and white laced coat thickening in preparation for the coming winter. If one is familiar with her, they might notice the slight changes to her body, the subtle rounding off her belly caused by the life flourishing inside of her. But it is early enough that only the truly astute would notice.

She settles next to him with comfortable familiarity, blue gaze considering as she eyes him openly. ”Moroseness does not suit you.”

heartfire

---

i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts

picture c Petrova Julia.N

[Nymphetamine]

The blood bay stallion never would have imagined he would be in this position. He was raised in a trial by fire, having been forced to leave his birth home too young all while losing his parents. Once he arrived within Beqanna’s borders he had immediately thrown himself in the middle of the chamber-gates war. He then was thrown in the midst of raids and changing allys. His life had been a sea of trials each one required he be quick witted and flexible. He had adapted every time. He had grown and changed and made it work to his best interest. Now, maybe 10 years later, he was half the stallion he was before. Or so it felt, sure he was taller and more filled out (even in his current less-than-ideal shape) but he was not showing the resilience that he had before. He wasn’t some old man, his body was frozen at his prime, but mentally he wasn’t getting any younger. Had he lost his edge? Was he going to be some old crotchety thing? He liked to believe that was not the case, that he would get it together. However, he could only tell himself that wasn’t the case and that he was just in a rut… a rut he planned to get out of.

Nymphetamine wasn’t sure how long he stood there as the memories and thoughts swirled around behind his brown eyes. But the sun was beyond its peak by the time the voice faintly familiar struck his ears, with its curious tones. He was unsure how long she had watched him, or if others had as well. For his mind was in turmoil over his friend and the man he had become. She slinked up to him, her two-toned body covered the distance with ease. Nymphetamine was sure that if he had to retell the story he would embellish to say she didn’t startle him, though that was not the case in reality. He presence next to him became apparent suddenly, it caused him to jump, but it was a manly, momentary jaunt into the air. Yes, manly and momentary… not at all coltish and silly. His legs didn’t flail about nor did his nostril flair in an adrenaline fueled display. No, if he had to retell the story he would have held firm to the ground despite her catching slightly unaware. Either way, in reality as he landed back firmly on the ground and turned to take in the curved body of the unnamed mare.

She was familiar, distantly so, but familiar none-the-less. He couldn’t place her, but surely he had seen her before. Her comfortable distance spoke of familiarity they shared, but he feared it was one sided as she was unknown to him. He racked his brain for a name or a place but still none came, he eyes danced over him as he did the same, though she beat him to words. ”No, probably not, though I don’t think if really fits anyone, no?”

The stallion raised an eyebrow at her, still mulling over how he recognized her. It really was a curious thing, knowing someone, but not knowing someone at the same time. He watched her though, watched her quiet confidence, that was brazen at the same time, she was intriguing that was for sure. ”Surely you know me, but I cannot seem to recall you, miss, though you are familiar. Maybe I met you once before?” He smiled, though it didn’t fully reach his eyes. The presence of a lady, even a pretty one at that, doesn’t make him forget the great loss. He missed him, but even Killdare wouldn’t have wanted him to be so morose. Nymph knew he had to shake it, and maybe the lady would be the distraction he needed. Maybe she would be the ticket out of the rut he had been in for far too long. It was a lot to put on the stranger, but it was better than staying in the position he had been.

Nymphetamine

in my heart, that barless prison
discolours all with tunnel vision

[Heartfire]

show them the joy and the pain and the ending

Were she to tell such a story, she is certain she would have embellished, though likely not in a way that would have been flattering to the red stallion. Fortunately for him, she has no need of re-telling such stories. Did she need someone to know such a thing, she would simply show it to them. So very much simpler, and no need to find words to describe things that are so often indescribable.

Also fortunately for him perhaps, is the fact that she is not prone to open displays of her humor. Though his display is really quite humorous, enough to make most laugh, she does not. Instead, her lips quirk up into an amused smile, blue glaze glittering as she considers the way he settles back to the earth, nostrils flaring as he turns to take her in in wide-eyed astonishment. He is too much a man to ever admit to any such failings, but she is certainly more than woman enough to call him out on it.

Not that she does. It is far more amusing to be a fly on the wall in such scenarios. To see how things might play out and to see how one might react.She is also clever enough to recognize the power of silence. And since he makes no note of it, neither does she. However, as he looks at her, equine brows lift slightly as she offers him a knowing smirk.

She pauses to consider his words for the barest of moments before offering a faint shake of her head. ”Oh, I don’t know about that. There are some who would be nothing were they not morose.” She has seen many, and would quite happily show him. Indeed, there are few names who come quickly to the tip of her tongue, but she is not quite that loose with her favors.

Peering at him, she allows her gaze to burn bright, knowledgeable in a way that so often sparks curiosity. She allows the silence after his question to stretch. Allows him to wonder if she might answer at all. Eventually she does though, her words quiet, almost contemplative. ”We have never met in the traditional sense, but I would be surprised if you did not remember.” Her smile kicks up then, a hint of irony in her tone. ”We were once enemies. Opposites in a war.”

heartfire

---

i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts

picture c Petrova Julia.N

[Nymphetamine]

He watched her now, curious as to why she had singled him out from the crowds around them. She seemed vibrant compared to his deep set sadness. Her amusement with him in the moment they were sharing visible at the corner of her eyes. The slight crinkle of humor shown at the creases. He wished he could join her in that joy, as happiness was rather lost on him for the time being. Sure being startled was an amusing thing, but he still couldn’t muster enough merriment from the vision of his flailing to really get a laugh from it. But she was a different story, comfortable, she wasn’t making a mockery of him but she was amused, it was fair enough. He voice quipped more that her features… saying just enough but not enough to tell him the details, or for the bay to be able to get a clear grasp on her. She toyed his the knowledge she gave him, and with that his curiosity was peaked. Ever so slightly it pulled him forth from the melancholy pit he had placed himself in… it was an ever subtle change. He still ached for the loss of Killdare, but it was ever so slightly less than before. ”There have been a few different battles in my time here, I’m afraid that helps me none, perhaps a name? It would only be fair, as you seem to know mine but I do not know yours.”

And as with most things, curiosity gave way to closer observation, he noted the way her coat almost danced white hairs among the charcoal-black, the smell of mineral water from the coast that clung to her as a beacon of her herd lands, the way her eyes were far more expressive than any word she had said thus far. He wasn’t trying to be overbearing, more just coming out of the fog. ”You live by salt water do you not? So you are Nerine or Ischia bound? Though that doesn’t necessarily tell me how you know me…” His voice turned to mimic hers in tone, allowing the game to pull him in, the dance of coy mystery acting as a distraction tactic that he had no problem diving into. If ever there was an acceptable time, this was one.

He stood a little taller now, straightened himself out, took on the stature that he normally did. Just not quite as crisp, and with sadness still seeded deep in his eyes-- that he could not shake. The autumn breeze whipped around the two, and if he allowed himself he could just imagine they were alone in the meadow. As if the breeze had whisked them off to some other plane, where their game would go uninterrupted. Just them able to complete their dance distraction free, but obviously that was not the case. He smirked just ever so slightly and allowed himself to take her space. Not in ownership, no that was not it, but there was a minor possessive quality in the fringes. A need to possess her secrets, what she hid behind her amused grin and subtle non-answers. He didn’t touch her but he got as close as her body language said she would allow, and he moved around her questioning his own boldness, but ultimately he allowed it to continue. Perhaps it was just the curiosity, perhaps it was an actual attraction, or maybe he was just upset and was finding comforting distraction where he thought one could be found… but he had to admit there was some tension between them, at least how he perceived it.

The blood bay had been wrong before, in fact, he may never have gotten it completely right. Keeva left him, Kimber-- well he never truly had, Nikita should have been right, but he could make it work. His rap sheet was well intentioned but never fully complete. One none-relationship after the other. Under those indicators, he surely was wrong and would leave humiliated… more than he already was after being scared like a ninnie then this unnamed lady approached him. Well, it was too late now, he had taken an innocent curiosity and put a slightly sexual charge on it. What. Had. He. Done. Sorrow can make a man do silly things if he was more self-aware he would have known that sorrow is just a catalyst, but Nymph wasn’t, at least not now, not at the moment.

The blood bay stopped his inspection, in so many words, and doubled back allowing his hip to just ever so slightly come into contact with her side and he turned away… that is if she didn’t shy away from him, or just kick him square in hock. The afternoon sun sank lower with each passing moment, though he felt no urge to leave, sexual tension, or totally made up man-nonsense, he was enjoying this conversation all things considered.

Nymphetamine

in my heart, that barless prison
discolours all with tunnel vision