"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
Ichor keeps to herself.
The summer days are spent in seclusion and shade because the sunlight is far too bright for her to stomach it and she just feels tired, all the time, tiredtiredtiredtired. She is most alive after the sun has set and night is her dominion to roam from flower to flower, sucking up the precious nectar she needs to sustain herself. Sometimes, she experiments on the sap from those odd stunted trees that manage to grow here and other times, she pokes her proboscis into some other animal’s shit - that’s just what moths do and she is more moth than horse with her six legs and flaking scales, antennae and wings, and those black compound eyes that take forever to assemble everything into one vivid picture.
So it is no surprise that it is night and Ichor is about. For a six-legged freak of nature, she manages to move with a quiet that does not disturb the few denizens of his herd and kingdom both. The horse part of her brain has recognized that she is part of his collection and not a self-sustaining member of the kingdom and Ichor is okay with that. She harbors no desire to be little more than what she is - Ivar’s little moth-horse with the gilled neck that can breathe underwater like she sometimes does when she submerges herself in the hot springs. That is where she is heading tonight - the springs, to soak up their heat even though the night is hot enough as is.
It never bothers her that she is alone.
There are moths out that sometimes come to hover around her as if recognizing her as some sort of larger not-quite-right kin but kin nonetheless. Sometimes, there is moonlight that she frolics in, her big wings spread and quivering as she manages some odd dance with all six functioning legs. Other times, there is her long proboscis snaked deep inside the heart of a flower and Ichor murmuring it’s scientific name lovingly afterwards, because that is how she thanks each flower for its nourishment of her. But tonight, there is only the flutter of her gills the moment her four front legs touch the hot springs. A quiver of anticipation that in the single most lamprey part of her because she could not forget that she came from some strange river eel’s loins.
Ichor could never be horse enough for any of them. Not with lamprey and moth comprising so much of her genetic makeup and accounting for her most odd look. Ichor also never minded one bit - she knew, deep down, that she was a fantastic creature, sometimes too fantastic for this world and then - she dunked her head beneath the water until it lapped at her shoulders, leaving only her champagne rump and two back legs visible on the shoreline.
Kindred had spent most of the summer exploring the lands that encompassed Leoss. The mare had seemed to slip back into the old habit of just vanishing with the morning fogs and staying gone until she wanted found. The more mountainous areas of the kingdoms interested her and she liked to follow the well worn paths of others up for as long as she could before trying her own hand at some exploring the unpathed. The surprises on mountain sometimes included a new plant to sniff at, or some sort of animal skittering across the path.
The snow of summer was an interesting thing to run onto as well but, as the summer had gone on the snow packs had grown smaller and now as autumn was here they were all but gone. She had also traveled down the winding river that lead to the coast just on the other side of some of those towering peaks.
There was the open field to the south west of her home and there she had sought out the long grasses that rubbed her sides and underside so nicely. It may have seemed strange to some but, what is one to do when there is an itch in a place you can not reach? She had chuckled to herself as she was tickled by the grass on her visits and then she was off once more.
Kindred also thought about how utterly uninteresting she was compared to some of the residents. There was the stallion Ivar with his scales and she had thought she had glanced some sharp teeth to go with that sharp tongue of his. There was Ichor the six legs and her own scales that left that glittery light dust when she was touched. Ichor also had a more vast knowledge of the plants of their home and was willing to share her knowledge with Kindred the stranger. Kindred had no wings, nor scales, and her teeth were blunk and suited to only grazing on the grasses of Leoss. The dark mare also had a great lack of any sort of useful knowledge.
So, she just walked and took in what was around her. She had been slow to discover the hotsprings that were part of this landscape as well. The dark appaloosa mare had allowed herself a couple of trips to the springs to enjoy a soak before being off on her way again. Her feet had lead her to the pools tonight lost in her thoughts she almost missed the two back legs sticking out of the water of the pool. She leaned her head to the side a moment watching before tearing her eyes away to find another hot pool to lower her frame into so she would not disturb the gold champagne. Kindred had guessed it was Ichor that owned those legs.
She was more than willing to give everyone there space and she was happy to step into another pool and just wait politely for the other to resurface so they could visit if of course Ichor was in a visiting mood.
Ichor did not have much in the way of this world.
Her kin had all but vanished and she felt their loss like a tangible severance to some part of herself that she could never regain back. Nothing here made it better. Ivar seemed to content himself elsewhere and Ichor could not say that she minded this much, having known that he’d shown interest in her however slight that interest might have been and that some hour, he’ll come lurking about to play with his moth-oddity.
Until then, she has only had those brief moments with Kindred as she taught the mare the names of some plants and flowers that they had encountered. Enough of these moments had occurred that somewhere in her dim but vast brain, Ichor had begun to count the mare as a friend of sorts. Perhaps because she showed such an interest in a subject that was near and dear to Ichor’s fluttering heart - flowers and plants and trees, oh my! It has been a little while since the champagne moth-mare has sought out the appaloosa.
She’s been too busy shoving her head and gilled neck into the hot springs, trying to place herself in a world that is all Ivar’s and little enough of hers. But it gets lonely down there with just the bubbles and the little bit of sulphur she can divine from the springs that soon enough, Ichor is surfacing from her moment of submergence but it seems she is not alone. Her proboscis probes the air and gleans an animal scent upon it that is all horse and all too familiar - Kindred! Head damp and dripping, she turns to the source of the scent and hones her compound eyes in upon the dark appaloosa’s frame settling into one of the other springs.
“Kindred!” she calls out companionably. Just the mare’s name and nothing else. It is a start though, to a night shaping up to be full of promise - more than Ichor initially imagined besides her usual romp with the moths that fluttered through Ivar’s domain, begging her to join them.
01-22-2018, 12:36 PM (This post was last modified: 01-22-2018, 12:38 PM by Kindred.)
Lamb tell me a story..
Memories of her past flitted by at times in Kindred’s mind making her less sure of what was true in them and was just something placed their for the sake of keeping her sanity. She knew the facts that she had a mother at one point and of course a stallion had added his contribution to the appaloosa pelted mares existence. She had started to shrug off those old memories as her life with in Leoss was more current and worthy of her attention. Her time with Ichor learning the names of flowers and plants with in the kingdom was pleasant.
She had taken note of the absence of Ivar. He seemed to flitter in here and there seemingly preoccupied at times with other things. Kindred could not help but to think of his more like a nanny just checking in on them all to make sure they were doing well before he went off once more. The dark mare let these memories slide from her shoulders as well if Ivar had better things to do then it was none of her business. Kindred lowered her muzzle to the water a moment and exhaled blowing bubbles on the surface of the water. She listened to them pop and bubble with her ears pricked forward.
Her name was called and she lifted her muzzle from the water and looked to Ichor who had surfaced from the other pool. “ Good evening Ichor.” She replied with that friendly tone that she was still growing used to adding life to her voice rather than the flat tones that she sometimes used. “ I hope I am not interrupting you.” She added and shook her body some in the pool.