Since his conversation with Amanita, the idea has never been out of his head for long. Merrik wants to visit the kingdoms of this new Beqanna, to see what it is they have been left with. For long enough he has traced the familiar path between the Meadow and the Field, unwilling to look to the north.
Spring is drawing to an end, and the winged stallion has finally shed the last of his winter coat. He's probably left a trail of blue hair, actually, a sure sign of his travels north. First had been the Taiga, but the forest was full of shadows and silence, and Merrik found it far too reminiscent of the world of his birth.
Now it is Sylva. If Merrik is honest with himself, he'd started to canter as soon as he'd seen the golden flashes between the redwoods. He'd rather be out of the foggy land, even if it means sheltering under a canopy that is unnaturally colored.
Craning his pale head upward, the stallion stares at the trees overhead. They are as autumnal as the stories claimed, but the dark haired stallion is still impressed. With a flick of his navy mane, a handful of leaves flutter down from overhead. They drift down, all but one, which settles at eye-level with the stallion.
It hovers there, held by some invisible force.
It is the winged stallion keeping it there, that much is obvious. He has some sort of unnatural skill, judging by the rainbow of feathers that are tied into his midnight blue mane and tail. Red, green, and brilliant yellow, they clearly did not fall from the stallion's own wings. While the feathers there do come in a wide range of shades, they are only the same shades that are echoed on his hide - palest white to deepest blue and every shade between.
Those wings are held tight around his stocky figure. While he might have crossed the threshold and passed the border of the kingdom, there is nothing about him that suggests he might be especially dangerous. Merrik is not especially tall, and while he's surely built along sturdy pony lines, there's also enough roundness to him that it is clear the Meadow offers plentiful grazing.
He even visibly startles at the sound of someone approaching, jumping a bit. The golden leaf flutters to his feet as he turns to face the other horse.
03-29-2018, 12:08 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-29-2018, 12:09 PM by Sabra.)
Spring is well and truly sprung, as evidenced by the new growth of the trees surrounding her. Young squirrels chased each other up and down thick trunks while baby birds in the canopy experimented with new wings. In the thinner parts of the wood, a lush carpet of bluebells had spread, contrasting beautifully with the perpetual gold of the canopy.
She loved the bluebells. They were the sure sign of spring, warmer weather, and the new year. On a whim she had interwoven several long stems of the flower into her mane and tail. Her fiery tresses mimicked the foliage so unique to the kingdom, and now she had the flowers to match as well! It was silly and girlish, but what did that matter? She would enjoy the blooms while they lasted. Watching the kingdom change with the seasons made for interesting walks.
It had been a while since anyone new had made their way to Sylva. Privately, that worried her, so it was with enthusiasm she noticed the flash of blue through the trees as her path brought her to the eastern edge of her realm. The mists of the Taiga did not frequently make it so close to the autumnal land, though they were trying this morning. The air here was cooler that it had been inn previous weeks, almost making the fey queen miss her heavy winters cloak. A breath of wind brought a swirl of mist closer as the stranger came into view. In a shower of leaves he appeared, a tapestry of blues and whites.
One leaf did not obey it's fellows. Instead it hovered in the air before him like it was held on a thread. He was focused on this, and had not yet noticed her observing him. A soft cough, in the hopes of not startling him. Not soft enough, though. He startled anyway, the leaf tumbling back to earth as he looked toward her. "I apologize, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Sabra, i rule here. What brings you to Sylva?" She asked, curious about the origins of the darkly tinted roan.
@[Merrik]
The source of the noise is a small mare, and Merrik tries his best to collect himself as she speaks. His efforts redouble as she introduces herself as the ruler of the Sylvan woods; he's managed to fumble this encounter in a variety of ways, it seems.
"Ah," he says, a blush coloring the dark curve of his cheeks. "There's no need to apologize to me, Your Majesty. I was too busy admiring your lovely trees."
"Did I cross the border?" Asks the pale roan, the deeper blue of his forehead wrinkling in concern that matches the tone in his voice. "I must admit I'm not familiar with these new kingdoms yet. I don't mean to intrude."
Merrik has never been the best at knowing when to keep quiet; he tends to chatter on until something stops him. As a child, it had been a glare from his brother, but today it's remembering that the glorious mare in front of him had asked him why he was here.
"Oh I was just wandering, you know? I haven't left the meadow in ages and I realized I didn't know anything about Beqanna outside the common grounds. So I went to the Taiga and now I'm here."
For a blessed moment it seems the sabino stallion is going to be quiet at last, and then he adds in a rush: "Oh, I'm Merrik, by the way. Sorry."
She raised an eyebrow as he babbled, letting him get it out. A little bit of her wanted to see just how long he'd go. Not too terribly long, it turned out. Just long enough for her to get a feel for his personality. She chuckled lightly. Well, he was certainly a wide open book, wasn't he?
"A pleasure, Merrik. Yes, when the trees started to look confused about the season, you crossed into the kingdom. It's no problem, though. Wander to your heart's content." She gestured to the surrounding woods, tail flicking at some early summer insects. Another small breeze brought down a new trio of red and gold leaves. She watched them spin to the ground thoughtfully, crystal eyes rising to meet the magpie man's once they met their fellows.
"How did you do that, earlier?" She asked curiously, wondering what kind of gift would allow him to manipulate the leaf as he had. There were untold talents that thrived within Beqanna. New ones were always a fascinating topic.
@[Merrik]
Merrik has never been accused of being emotionless. Fortunately, his expression of it is most frequent when he is comfortable; he does not rage and roar. Today though, he is relieved to be out of the Taiga and in the presence of a beautiful Queen, even if he has inadvertently invaded her kingdom.
Sabra seems entirely unbothered by the invasion; her invitation to wander freely through the woods is given without a moment's hesitation.
"Beqanna must be in a time of peace, then." Merrik answers, following her gaze as she gestures at the kingdom around them. "If you let just anyone wander into the kingdom, I mean."
When Sabra looks up at the leaves, Merrick watches the opalescent queen. She seems so peace, so unbothered. This was not the attitude about kingdoms that the roan stallion has been taught. Has Beqanna changed so much in their parents' time away? It would seem so. He is pondering this when Sabra looks back at him, and it takes him a moment to shake away the puzzlement and refocus on what she's asking.
The stallion has been absentmindedly staring at her for a moment, and looks back up at the canopy when he finally answers.
"It's just a little trick," He replies. His thundercloud eyes are searching for something, and he falls still as he finds it. A single maple leaf colored by the entire autumn spectrum, palest gold to deepest red and every shade of orange between. It falls toward them, performing wind and gravity defying twirls and spirals, stopping scant inches from the mare's rose-tinted nose.
He leaves it hanging, a feat that requires little concentration, and adds: "I use it mostly for making sure my feathers don't fall out." Merrik shakes his head in demonstration, the colorful accessories in his dark mane remaining firmly in place. The limits of his telekinesis has caused him to hone his accuracy more than brute strength; his miniscule knots don't ever come undone.
Tying knots in hair and floating leaves are not the most impressive skills, of course, and Merrik subconsciously rolls his shoulders, resettling his pied wings. "What about you? Do you, uh, have anything special?"
Her face twisted in conflicting emotions as he commented on the state of Beqanna. "Yes, a time of peace. It stretches on, thinner and thinner and... one day, it will snap again. What is the point of peace if you can't enjoy it though?" She asked, almost to herself.
His eyes linger on her, so much so that it isn't certain that the mottled stallion had even heard her question. He was not the most grounded creature, though his attitude was light and unaggressive. The effervescent mare smiled attentively when he focused long enough to answer her question. The smile broadened as he demonstrated, holding a variegated maple leaf suspended inches from her face. It danced to silent music, a perfect recital in miniature.
He held it in place as he shook out the thick mass of mane. Sure enough, not a feather moved out of place. "A useful little trick. It looks like it comes in handy." She observed lightly. It wasn't a talent that would bring hell upon nations, but it certainly seemed to suit the stocky pony's needs just fine.
It was her turn to shake her head, eyes rolling with self deprecating sarcasm. "Ohh no, I am exactly as I appear. No hidden magical talents here." She grinned at him wolfishly, her tail arched with flamboyant confidence. 'Exactly as I appear ' could be interpreted in a variety of ways, depending on who one asked. And while her talents did not lie in the arcane, she was not without defenses.
@[Merrik]
|
