"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
Beqanna in the winter was a marvelous sight, there was no match for the ivory blanketed lands. When the trees shed there leaves, and the flurries began to fall Amun arrived. The pale stallion approached the field , head low to avoid the cool breeze that wafted through the crisp night air.
The one eye he was able to see out of drifted to the sky above him, white puffs fell into his mane, stars glinting off the snow below him that crunched as he walked. Others mingled about the field, quiet in the nights presence. Few (like he) were moving about, nosing around for food, or twisting about to find warmth.
Thankfully, the pale stud did not find this hard. The layers of fur he possessed kept him fairly warm in the colder months of the year, that and he reveled in the cold.
When he finally found a comfortable place to rest, he turned his head. He lipped softly as his scarred forelegs , grimacing at the sight of them. It was no lie, he had a fighting problem.
His pale body was a wire work of scars. Many of them wrapped around his hind legs and extended there tendrils to his back. Though the worst of all existed on his face.
The left side of his profile was horrendous, the once beautiful blue orb it possessed a pale violet. Blind. Useless. The scar that ran across the flesh around it a story long since quiet.
Despite this he was aware, too keen on his surroundings for his own good. He had learned to live around his issue, the eye he could still see out of guiding the pale one along.
Tendrils curled around his back leg, one going limp as he leaned wearily against a dying willow. It was nice here, quiet, remote. A place he could see himself liking.
The black mare is not new to this place, but it is new to her. Has it been years already? Yes, yes it has she confirms to herself. When the lands had gave way, and the seas swept away the old masses of Beqanna she had fled. Banishing herself to roam the outer parts of the new world the fairies created. Many had lost some, she had lost all.
Family. Friends. Home. Herself...
Though they may have not been truly lost, she was. Her mind had turned into a black hole. Consuming everything in its path and turning on her. The trauma of her world collapsing combined with her self isolation created the perfect atmosphere for everything to go wrong. Reality had twisted to a complicated mess within her mind. One persona had morphed into separate persons all residing in one bodily form...
Her. Impulse
Unsure of where she was or where she was going - cause honestly she couldn't remember - she walked aimlessly. A black mass against a white backdrop. This territory held no terrestrial force to shelter it from the frozen flakes of precipitation. Her hooves compacting the buildup that covered the hibernating grasses. A thought was had to brush it away to expose the vegatation but that sounded like a lot of work for little gain. She was solemn today.
Pausing for a brief moment her mismatched eyes looked across the open plains. Bodies riddled the land in a wide display of various colors. She was solid black. Boring. Almost as boring as the white that painted the rolling hills before her. That's when her golden eye catches his luminous form. His scent carried across the crisp air to her flaring nostrils. He was leaned against the trunk of a tree. Resting but watchful. The constant swivel of his ears and slight bob of his head suggesting he was probably aware of her before she was of him. Her head raised as she gauged his distance - which was closer than she expected - deciding wether she should move off in caution or stay put.
She could place lines crossing his hide and assumed them to be scars. From what, she did not know but usually they are not won kindly. Her slight concern turned to fear.
Pain. Loss. Torture.
She could feel them grow restless. Her gut twisted and heart thudded against her chest cavity. Breaking free the fighter within her. No longer a drifting flake upon a gentle breeze. Gathered within her was a furious blizzard readied to be released at any moment... if it should arise. Her black muzzle touched her chest as neck arched. Ears thrusted forwards in interest - perhaps challenge - as a snort rumbled from her airways. She could feel his eyes upon her.
"What are you looking at?!" Sharp words pierced the unsettled space between them.
Ooc: fleshing out her personalities so bare with me
He sensed her, the soft patter of the mares footfall alerting the sleeping stallion. He merely shrugged and continued his rest, she continued to walk, though the noise faded as she stopped. After a few moments of peace the mare screamed, awaking the pale one fully.
"What are you looking at?"
The question shocked him, his ears tilted back, head raising to peer at the ebony mare. Did she not know that he could not see? He assumed not. The eye that COULD see watched her carefully, the other staring blankly forward.
"WHo are you?"
He whispered quietly, stepping forward tentatively. SHe seemed antsy, her ears constantly flicking forward.
His feet stopped soon after he started walking.
OOC: Its okay! Im still trying to figure out Amun cX
A rattled breath escapes her as he steps forwards. Black whips slash in irritation upon her hide. A warning as her ears pin flat against her skull. He answers her question with one of his own. Who was she? Hell she didn't even know but at the moment his worst nightmare should he take another step closer...
He stops his advancement and she settles, slightly. Her golden eye narrowed upon him, scanning his intentions but she is unsure of them. Ink lips part as she finds an answer, "I am Impulse. Who's asking?"
Her expression judgemental but her agitation lessens. She notices the blank stare in his one eye - milky in color - and wonders to herself whether he had been born with mismatched eyes as well...
"What happened to you?" Noticing his scars and now his eye surely there was a story here.
His reply was strong, confident as it fled from his lips. She had called herself Impulse, an interesting name. Though he supposed his was as well. His ears flicked, eye traveling over her quickly as to assess the ebony mare.
"But some know me as Amun."
This part was whispered, caught in the flush of her next question. What happened to him? The stallion went rigid, his heart hammering against his bones, memories of worse days flooding into his brain. Whom did she think she was to ask him this? The pink lines that mapped his body were horrendous to him, a flaw. Much like the milky eye that he could find no use for.
"Ice."
This was all he could say on the subject. Ice. He could feel it beneath him, the slippery snow that taunted him yet pulled at him so roughly. Though snow was kind, ice was a killer. The one opponent he had no wish to fight again.
He shook himself free of the images before looking back to Impulse, his demeanor cracked enough to where , if she was smart, she would be able to pry further without having to ask.
She took his name for what it was. Different but who was she to judge. A flick of her tassels and repositioning of her hooves was all she offered as a response. The winters chill had lightened, but only slightly. Her coat did little to shield her from the whirling flakes around them.
Studying, the twitch in his brow, the tension in the cheek, as the words of her question paused in silence. A muscle did not move in her own body as she watched the conflict inside him. She almost wanted to grin in satisfaction having brought him pain. Another part of her thought to symphathize in his saddness, she was unsure anymore. They struggled for control over her. Switching places like her sanity was a game of musical chairs.
Ice
It was all that was said. All that needed to be said. Her ears tipped loosely to either side of her skull. Hardened glares and tensed muscles within her softened. Her sloped shoulder rolled forwards as a step was taken towards him. Her inked lips reached for his opposite hued flesh. Willing her to trace one of the faded pink scars riddled across his body. He knew physical pain where as she knew mental. His scars laid bare for all to know his struggle, hers hid behind a deceptive wall. Her golden eye gauged his reaction at her being in close quarters. Soft words breathed into his flesh, "I'm sorry to hear that Amun. Can I do anything to help?"
~Impulse~
I Am My Own Worse Enemy
I'm still going off winter timeline. Sry this took so long!
He watched the mare's emotions flicker and change, she seemed to change so quickly.
Amun had never seen anything like her.
He flinched at her touch, though allowed himself to enjoy the brief contact. Then she spoke.
Was there anything the dark mare could do to help him? No...No there was nothing she could do, and he told her as much.
"Unless you can change the past. I'm 'fraid not."
He allowed her kindness to soak into him like a sponge with water, quickly and deeply. His scar covered lips pulled into a small smile, eyes flickering over her frame. She was his polar opposite, lithe, dark, mysterious in her own way. Where as he was pale, strong in his build, and open almost.
His neck stretched, muzzle briefly brushing against the curve of her neck before he pulled away, afraid that she would not enjoy his presence there.
The brief contact allowed him to feel her pain, pain everyone felt at some point.
07-19-2017, 09:40 PM (This post was last modified: 07-20-2017, 06:44 AM by Impulse.)
He was quick to meld into her touch. Accepting it from a stranger was foolish, but then again maybe they weren't as much of strangers as thought to be. Alike in some ways, different in many others. Conflicted nonetheless.
His words held truth and as much as she wished she could change the past... She could not.
He reached for her and an instinctive flinch rippled across her inked hide. Would he hurt her? Certainly he could if he would chose to. Her own muzzle withdrew from his pale flesh. Resting at her breast, her neck arched tightly. The ear closest to him twisted to catch his words. Her answer was nearly the same as his but perhaps doable, "Unless you can free me from my mind, I'm afraid not."
His touch left but the knocking in her chest did not. She tried to convince herself she was fine and looked to move along the conversation, "Are you new here?"
She tensed as soon as his muzzle connected with her flesh.
Amun had expected this and pulled away immediately. His stature straightened, two steps taken to distance himself from her, for he wished to make her feel comfortable not on guard.
Unless you can free me from my mind I am afraid not.
He chuckled at this, understanding the trapped feeling one's mind can give. Her next question elicits a small huff from the pale stag.
Are you new here?
"Yes I am new to these lands."
He replied, pale gaze rolling from her to the field before them. The night was breaking to day, clouds rolling over the dimming stars.
"I would presume you are not?"
Amun inquired, eyes tilting back to the dark mare.
As the darkness lifted, giving away to the light of day, her body shifted uneasy. It had been so long that she has lingered in the shadows that being so exposed frightened her. He had maneuvered away from her to give her space but now she felt even more vulnerable. Her mind was a shit show. Come, go... Too close, too far... Ugh! What do you want Impulse!
She screamed at herself internally. A shake of her head to try to bring some sense to her thoughts. As he answers she brings herself a step closer. Inked muzzle reaches for him again, unknown if her advance would still be well received. He was new here, she figured as much. She hadn't seen him before and she thinks she may have remembered a stallion with scars stretching across his body. Then again she has told herself to forget everyone and everything she's ever known. He inquires on her relation to the lands and all she can do is offer a vague explanation, "Yes and no. I am from the old world, old Beqanna. But... I've forgotten much."
Her eyes find his before looking to the lands around them. Where was she now? And more importantly, where was she to go...? She places her muzzle at his shoulder and with a step forward presses her forehead into it...
