"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
12-12-2017, 04:04 PM (This post was last modified: 12-12-2017, 04:06 PM by Provoke.)
provoke
The trees here were sad. OH so very sad.
They were alive, that was true enough, but she had seen this place in her dreams--when her body leaves her...or when she leaves her body, she is not quite sure how it works yet. The memories these trees carried, the images they saw, were ones of pure torture and sadness. The trees almost seemed to whisper, and in this weird parallel universe she found herself traversing in, she could hear them cry.
Images of wolves—and of lava. A man with fire in his eyes, God among mortals. She knew, somehow, that this creature was her father. Mother had never spoken of him. Only that she had known him before. But he—the creature—had brought this land to its knees, and for whatever reason, the sheer amount of sadness here was one that would last as long as these trees remained standing.
The colors run together, and Provoke's quiet eyes flashed as she viewed multiple realities all at the same time. She walked, as if in a trance, transfixed and hyptotized by the bleeding of creatures that existed in one, but not the other, were alive today, and dead yesterday. The Taiga was full of negative energy, and it played havok with Provoke's sense of self. It was a drug high.
It was frightening.
» death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily «
12-12-2017, 10:25 PM (This post was last modified: 12-12-2017, 10:31 PM by Wildling.)
'
Mother told him not to stray.
He tried to not be disobedient but he shucked her rules and slipped loose from the ever-tight noose of them.
Wildling was smart enough to know that he’d have to ford the channel if the tide was in but luck was with him and the tide was out so he skipped through the tidal flats until he came to the shore of the redwood forest. No one had to tell him that great harm had been done here to the ancient grove and that most of the trees were still new and raw in their roots. He threw his head back to look at them, for even the smallest sapling stood taller than most of the trees he was familiar with. If he felt a sense of grief lingering there, it did not impress hard and deep through a fingerless touch upon his heart.
The colt turned away then and began to focus his attention on the thing he’d discovered about himself that he still kept hidden from his mother. He knew she’d cultivate the talent in him, but something murmured in the back of his brain to appear as ordinary as possible to her for as long as he could. That murmuring had served him well thus far and whatever thing spoke to him from deep inside gray matter and blood, was quiet in the redwoods’ sad hush. So he narrowed his green gaze on a small rock no bigger around than his hoof and to his amazement, it shattered!
“Cool!” he gasped aloud as he nosed amongst the rock fragments, inspecting his handiwork before a noise made him look up and narrow his gaze even further in suspicion. A filly came into view and she looked odd to him, like she was asleep but not because her eyes were wide open but unfocused. He wasn’t sure if he could or should wake her, if she’d respond at all or then again, she might be blind and daft. Wildling trailed her with his green eyes and when she came closer, he made another rock shatter off to her left to distract her from whatever it was that possessed her.
Possession made sense to him. How or why, he could not say but that explained her strange look. His head tilted to the side, curious.
She continued to be transfixed in this multi-dimensional reality of color. It was a bleeding kaleidescope of trees and animals, crazy things that have and could happen. Things that have happened, and havent. All at the same time. It swirled and twisted together, and Provoke screamed. She was overly sensitized, and when she finally fell back into her body, her head was knocked backwards and she fell over.
She shook her head, and looked to her left, and her right. Then, she stood up and stared down at the ground underneath her belly - nothing. Then she looked behind her. There was a small child - a boy - staring at her, his head tilted. He sort of looked like her.
He was short, fluffy, and blue. Except his blue looked more - real. She was just a bright shade of blue that looked like green had thrown up on it. She had two purple stockings, primitive tribal markings that rode on her flanks like tattoos, and a bright purple dorsal stripe. Teal and purple mane framed her rather delicate face, and she tilted her head, looking at him.
"Did I leave my body again?" she asks, somewhat sheepish. She fluttered her fluffy little tail.
She sometimes hates being her.
» death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily «
See, he recognized possession.
Maybe not in the truest sense of the definition but mother always looked possessed whenever father was near to her. Something about him drove her to another plane of existence and left her with fevered eyes and flushed skin that made Wildling concerned but whenever he tried to ask if she was okay, she flashed her fanged mouth at him and told him to go nap or play.
She definitely looked possessed!
Especially as she let loose a scream that raised even his hackles. Heavens above, that was loud! he thought with a tinge of unease as his ears flattened against his blue head. Then she fell over and Wildling’s mouth gaped open. This was entirely too bizarre for him! No, she was bizarre as he watched her look left and right then climb to her feet again just to peer under her belly.
So strange! came the thought in his mind as he stared at her. Mother would have told him to quit staring but he just couldn’t help himself. Her mannerisms were some of the strangest he’s ever seen not that he has much to measure it by in his short life but mother could disappear inch by slow inch or real quick in a fit of invisibility and father often stalked around as a wolf for him to chase after. His brother even had soft downy wings that he liked to lip at, the feathers tickling his mouth and cheeks.
But her? She was so… different!
Great, now she’s looking at him with the same kind of tilt to her head and he’s been caught staring. For a moment, a sheepish expression crosses his face and chases the frowning concern off it. She was actually kind of pretty if he liked fillies. Fillies were just ick to him right now. Probably because of his tagalong sister that was always chirping and bouncing and just plain old gross! His green eyes narrow in suspicion as she sheepishly asks him a question. “Is that what happened to you?” it’s all he can come back with, because to him - she looked possessed, or like she was having a seizure.
Inside his skull though, his brain was firing fast in an attempt to crowd his mouth with more questions. Like how does she leave her body? Where does she go? What actually leaves her body, is it her soul? But he clamped his mouth shut and dared to take a step closer to her despite the fact that she was a conundrum to him and a girl. Mostly because she was a girl.
She looked at him. A foal like her. A colt. A boy. Ew. He was blue, like her. Sort of. But he didn't look exactly like her, because she was a girl. Everyone knew that girls were better than boys. And when Provoke looked at him, She tilted her head again. She glared, and then sat down. "I must have."
She still has no explanations for why she can't manage to keep herself inside her body. That time with Santa in the woods was fun, and she was no longer afraid of it, but it came at the most random, terrible times. And what happens in those other worlds.... that can be scary too.
And she is such a little thing.
But she looks around, the trees here are thick and big and wild. "This forest is old. Older than me, at least." She walks forward to the boy... noting how strange he seemed to be. He kept on staring and staring.
"Do I have something on my nose?"
» death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily «
01-09-2018, 05:05 PM (This post was last modified: 01-09-2018, 05:08 PM by Wildling.)
'
Great, now she was looking at him in the same fashion he looked at her.
Probably thought the same thing: ew, gross, opposite sex, yuck!
One day, he’d be apt to have his father’s sexual impulses to drive him to seek those like her - pretty, feminine, and a tad bit strange but right now, he couldn’t see that far into the future. He could just see her, staring back at him. Her stare changed to a glare and then she promptly sat down on her rump. Now his head tilts quizzically to the side because she doesn’t behave like his brother and sister do - no at all!
Nothing about her is predictable and actually, she seems downright miserable given that she seems to have no control over what is happening to her. Wildling can’t imagine what that must be like. He is fast becoming a master as this whole shattering thing he can do even if he isn’t quite adept at keeping it from his parents. Mother had found out, only a matter of time until she tells father or father finds out for himself…
But she is a little thing and because he has a sister and some heart in him, he feels for her. Even takes a step towards her just as she makes a remark about the trees and he glances around them. “Older than both of us, I’d say.” he murmurs back as she finally gets up and walks over to him, closing the distance that he’d managed to keep lest her girl-cooties somehow found him but now she’s asking if she has something on her nose and Wildling can’t help himself, he outright laughs before shaking his head.
“No, sorry. I stare a lot but you’re kinda strange and fascinating?”
His little mind couldn’t fathom if that was a compliment or not. Part of him didn’t really care because it was the blatant truth and the least he could do was be truthful with her. She did have a cute nose the closer she got to him, and he stretched his out to bump hers carefully in case it might jolt her right back out of her body. He had no idea what he’d do then if that happened. Had no name to call her back to him by in case it did happen - wasn’t even sure a name could keep her there in her own skin.
“I’m Wildling by the way.” he offers casually, offhandedly, still curious as to whether or not he’d be able to keep her around a little longer talking to him because she was not his brother or his sister but someone else entirely - someone new, and fascinating.
