"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
Since pledging Sylva, the ebony equine had yet to return to the tangle of trees he had called home for his first couple of years. Today, Arabian-type stallion returns with a confidence he lacked the last time he strolled over these pine-needle strewn paths. Poll carries tapered muzzle slightly aloft to permit sensitive nasal passages to filter through the familiar and, novel scents. Winter always brought about a dampness that clung to every bit of foliage and rock. Pine mingles with maple and oak among the raw moisture that hovers over the stiff earth. Unshod keratin easily navigates the Forest trails as soles drum lightly upon the ground. Casual stride quickens in excitement as ceil blue orbs recognize the assortment of trees, boulders, and caverns, before him. Nares widen to inhale the lingering comfort of his old stomping grounds as pace slows and, limbs align in a halt.
He really had come a long way since that fateful day his dream led him to his grandfather. He put his skills to the test on the battlefield and, his intelligence to the test with the Beqanna Games. However, he remains aware that Beqanna held so much history and, many secrets. He doubts that, even if he had forever (like his grandsire), he still could hardly learn everything there is to know. Poll tosses to shake cloud of thoughts from cranium. Tufted lobes resume their scan of the woods to decipher if a threat lurks nearby. Sensing none, hindquarters engage to push onyx steed back into motion. Limbs shuffle in a four-beat saunter as Jesper navigates the trail that unfolds ahead. He had nowhere else to be and, no one waiting on him.
The forest swallowed him. All around him fresh greenery broke through the iciness of winter. The promise of spring rode upon the breeze and, with it, the promise of new life. Alone he’d wandered a great distance. From one corner of Beqanna to the other, he’d traveled a great distance. This corner, however, he loved. The denseness of the trees and bushes created a warmth that reached deep within his bones. Here, it was easy for him to hide against the unwanted gaze of passing strangers. For days he’d darted from shadow to shadow, keeping to himself. The trees and the birds had been the only company he’d needed, and the solitude set his soul right.
Grazing on a sparse patch of weedy grass the sound of a twig breaking set him at pause. His big black head jolted upright, his ears pricked towards the sound. It wasn’t uncommon for a doe or two to stumble upon him. Their big brown eyes would hardly pause upon him before they were on their way once more. A buck, however, tended be a slightly more challenging encounter. Territorial, they tended to require slightly more convincing before continuing their way. However, the more he listened to the approach the more he realized that it was not a deer he would encounter.
Abandoning his lunch, he melted into the shadows just as a smaller black stallion broke through the thicket. Small in stature, Hephaestus knew he would be no real challenge should he choose to be violent towards him. Hopefully, the traveler would pass him by and be quietly on his way.
Watching apprehensively, the strange stallion paused to search the shadows. For a moment, Hephaestus’ tensed, sure that he would be discovered. A heartbeat later, the black stud was moving along once more. Hephaestus exhaled. It seemed strange, that moment. Either, the patrolling horse had spotted him and decided not to say anything, or he hadn’t. Whatever the case may have been, he was happy to return to his patch of grass.
Exiting his hiding spot, he meandered confidently back to where his lunch sat waiting ever so patiently. Lowering his head, he kept one ear pointed in the direction of the wanderer in case the stallion decided that he wanted to double back. However unlikely that seemed, Hephaestus had learned that the horses of Beqanna took protecting their own very seriously and any perceived threat was swiftly dealt with. Though he was no threat, he’d often been treated like one. He simply wanted to enjoy his bite of grass.
Casual saunter ceases as sensitive nares catch the trace cologne of another – a male. Nape curves cranium about so that left orb could catch a glimpse of where he had just been. The figure is equine though distinctly larger, taller, and thicker. This made no difference to Jesper. Weight sinks onto hind pillars before front limbs pirouette chassis one-hundred and eighty degrees. Now facing the similar hued steed, hindquarters push physique forward. Noting that the unfamiliar stallion already held one ear upon him, smaller ebony slows his pace. He approaches with noble poll low enough that whiskers of muzzle almost drag across the foliage-strewn path. Jesper brings himself to a halt, several paces away, before he offers words that, he can only hope will comfort.
“I am sorry to intrude on your snack, sir. My name is Jesper. I just want to say that it is a nice to meet another who admires these woods as much as I do. I used to call this place home, actually.” Voice trails off with a hint of somberness. Ceil blue gaze does not stare at other but, instead, remains low at his hooves. He, too, meant no harm towards this stranger. Having spent the first couple of years with no one’s company, Jesper values the presence of another. And so, he could not pass up the opportunity to introduce himself and, perhaps, offer his friendship. He could only hope that this black would be willing to engage him in conversation.
As suspected his midnight ears caught the sound of the strange black stud’s footsteps as they faltered and doubled back towards Hephaestus. Lifting his head once more he glanced over his shoulder to study the small horse as he neared. There would be no escaping the inevitable this time and he resigned himself to his fate. As he drew closer, Hephaestus squared his shoulders and was careful to shield his left side of his face from view. Breaking through the thick foliage, the horse named himself Jesper.
Though he maintained a cautious distance between them he spoke with an odd familiarity that raked across Hephaestus’ skin hotly. With every rambled word his frown deepened, and his brow creased. Jesper was an admirer of the woods and claimed to have once lived within the fold of trees. It was hard to see past his prejudices and accept the hand extended towards him. He’d never been one for friendship.
”Tis no intrusion, Jesper,” he lied through a forced smile. ”I was merely passing through, but I do enjoy the solitude of this forest.”
The art of conversation had never been one of Hephaestus’ stronger attributes. Silence was stronger – more bonding than formalities and sideways glances. There was beauty in the midst of solitude and he’d found himself in quiet moments of stillness. There was no abundance of companionship that could ever replace the lessons he’d learned relying solely upon himself.
He doubted that there was a single being alive that could convince him otherwise.
03-23-2018, 05:16 PM (This post was last modified: 03-23-2018, 05:29 PM by Jesper.)
Raven stallion kept his distance so as not to crowd the larger male. Ceil blue gaze carefully searches his face, though, he consciously attempts to avoid a cold, hard stare. He notes the lines of his façade furrowing deeper, almost in pain. Poll lowers, out of discouragement, upon recognizing this guy’s discomfort and unease. Of course, Jesper did not know him. He did not know what he had overcome. However, he had spent long enough on his own to know that alone was not the way to live. He cringes as he watches Hephaestus force words out. He does so because he is aware it is him making this man feel so awkward. Rubbery labrums curve into a gentle smile in an attempt to ease other’s pain. He doubts words could help here. Actions always speak louder than words. Poll shakes, sending tresses askew, to rid the nagging phrase from his thoughts.
Ceil blue orbs soften as gentle voice emits. “I cannot help but notice that I am disturbing your peace. I know what you mean. I too enjoy the solitude of the forest. My mother passed away giving birth to me and, my father has never been around. I practically raised myself and, while I have no physical scars, I certainly feel as though a piece of me is missing.” He pauses briefly, deciding if it was worth it to continue. Alas, Jesper could not bring himself to give up on Hephaestus just yet. “I was beyond lost last summer. I, somehow, experienced a little Beqanna magic and, have found myself again.” He decides to step forward slowly with his whiskered muzzle extending towards a few blades of tender grass poking out from beneath the pine needles. Lightly-stained ivories nibble at the foliage before he speaks once more. “I guess, I want you to know that I feel your pain. I have felt the sorrow etched into your features and, the loss that deepens your creases.” Deciding that enough is enough, Jesper quits his chattering and, pokes about through the scattered leaves for more fresh blades.
Hephaestus, as a general rule, tended to be a very unassuming stallion. He kept to himself and rarely resorted to violence as a solution, but there was something about the small black intruder that raked across his body like talons. As he spoke, the big black searched Jesper’s features for any sign or deformity or scar. He appeared whole to the Friesian’s eyes. Yet he claimed to understand – he claimed to sympathize. It was a fair bet that Jesper knew not a day of his life as an outsider. That he’d never experienced the pain of being born with physical deformities. And, although his father was never around, at least the stallion hadn’t sought to murder him as a newborn. Those were all realities that Hephaestus had faced.
He lifted himself higher and squared himself defensively. No one can know the pain I feel unless you’ve lived it first hand. He kept his voice even, although a slight edge had embedded itself there. I don’t need your sympathy, Jesper, he intoned. I’ve never asked your for it and I’ve done just fine without it so far.
Suddenly the sweetness of the forest had run its course for him and even the sweetness of the grass between his teeth had grown stale. Turning abruptly he walked away, leaving the stallion behind him.
03-27-2018, 05:02 AM (This post was last modified: 03-27-2018, 05:05 AM by Jesper.)
Whiskered muzzle lifts from the earth as the other’s voice, laced with a chilly tone, reaches his tufted lobe. Light blue gaze takes in the vision that is now the other stallion. He had grown – in height and, seemingly, in width. Whoa! All right, so maybe I do not know his pain exactly. How can I know if he keeps it all to himself? Poll tosses, as if to shake off the tension, before he, too, squares his limbs underneath torso. Gathering his voice, words travel across the Forest floor and, the larger male’s back to his ears. “Well, come back when you start to drive yourself crazy. Come back just to tell me, ‘you told me so’.” Snort rumbles from nasal passages before glossy orbs briefly observe stallion walk away. That is not the answer, sir. Once several paces exist between them, Jesper steps forward off the path to continue poking through the leaves.
Avoiding your demons does not make them go away; will not defeat them. I would certainly know that. Furthermore, it simply isn’t healthy to keep it all bottled up inside. Rubbery labrums peel back to unveil lightly stained ivory dentition as they commit to a few soft shoots. Tear. He needs to find himself an outlet. Tear. A purpose. Something other than wandering lost. Tear. What sort of quality is that to any life? Tear.
Lost in his own thoughts, the ebony equine could not even hear himself chew. Mandible directs blunt teeth to masticate selected nutrients as cranium lifts out of the brush. Now several paces away from the path, Jesper decides to push on. Muscled haunches engage and propel limbs into a more deliberate pace as he navigates the thick foliage. This path is hardly the known one but, then again, what did he know about what life had in store for him? What did he know about what Beqanna had in store for him? Nothing. He is just along for the ride – and, all of its bumps, detours and, occasionally, smooth new pavement. Maybe not everyone will want our paths to cross. I can handle that. I will embrace the life I am offered. And, right then and there, Jesper learned something about himself. He learned that, despite all of the horrible things it took to get him into this life, he is alive. For that, he could not be more grateful.
Jesper
