"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
The winter’s chill settles deep into his bones, and though his painted coat has thickened for its arrival, Svedka cannot help but shiver beneath the sun’s golden rays that, despite the wind-scrubbed sky, does not warm him. He had been itching to get out of Hyaline and explore, for winter had always intrigued him as he had been born beneath the warmth and ash of Tephra’s volcano. The white snow is magical to him, and even though it is apparent that it had not snowed in the Riverlands for a few days, there are patches of ice and clumps of snow clinging to the pines surrounding the river, glistening as it drips quietly in the sunlight. The sound of the river rushing fervently fills his ears as he comes across the pebble-laden shoreline, the clear water running smooth and freely despite winter’s cold touch.
There is a lazy mist that swirls around the river, as the constantly moving water kicks up droplets of water and vapor. The fog clings to his milk-and-honey coat as he halts before the water, lowering his head towards it. The water dampens the long whiskers of his muzzle, and though there is no wind on this winter’s day, the movement of the river gently brushes back his forelock from his face, revealing the deep ocean blue of his eyes that stare curiously into the frothing waters. He snorts softly, lifting his head and tossing it gently as he attempts to rid the stinging feeling of water in his nose. The movement tosses the red and black hawk feather that is tangled within his mane, just behind his ears, as well as shakes lose the panther lily flower (bright orange against his ivory and blue mane) that had been placed there a few days ago by Kagerus. The orange bulb, its petals shriveled and wrinkled from lack of a stem and roots, falls with a gentle plop into the river.
Svedka watches its descent downriver, until it has disappeared beyond his eyesight.
He hopes that when he returns to Hyaline that Kagerus will have another waiting for him - perhaps an evergreen branch or another winter-growing bulb. He smiles softly to himself at the thought, before a sound nearby catches his attention. Pale golden ears flick towards the sound, his brows rising curiously though his eyes have not found the source yet. “You may join me,” he offers into the stillness around him, the warmth of his breath becoming a cloud of condensed vapor as it meets the cold air.
It has been a year. A year since she had met Kagerus on the beach. A year since she had left Ischia in favour of Hyaline. She still struggles to wrap her mind around all the things that have happened during the last year. From a very low and dark place she had somehow managed – no, not Kylin, the equine around her should have the credit for it – to scramble up. Not yet there, but every step is one in the right direction.
Thinking of the winter cold makes her shiver, even with Ischia’s warm climate. Kylin is not used to the cold, never had her coat thickened to keep herself warm, winter simply didn’t touch Ischia. The lavender woman cannot say she likes the winter, but she would have to admit that her short time in Hyaline last winter made her curious.
Curious enough to leave Ischia in favour of travelling to the mainland. She has been watching Tephra’s volcano from afar, her heart aching whenever she does. Would Klaudius look up at the smoking mountain at the same time and think of her too? Or perhaps he stands on Tephra’s blackened shore, watching the sea and Ischia in the distance? Probably not though. He has his family to look after. And thus her course changes midway. Instead of following the riverbank that would bring her towards Tephra, Kylin sets a hoof upon the sea and moves west.
She walks on the sea like one would walk on a thick layer of ice during the winter. Instead of walking, she could have taken a dive too, and swim all the way to the mainland’s shore. But walking feels more natural to her, especially now the mainland’s winter is slowly affecting the sea and turning the water cold. Kylin does not like the cold.
“Oh”. What’s that?
Her hazel eyes fix on the orange thing floating on top of the water, carried by the river to open sea. Her legs carry her in its direction, and soon her muzzle drops towards the water to inspect it. A flower. Not a fresh one though, and unlike Kylin has ever seen in Ischia. How had it gotten on the water? Before she knows it her legs carry her across the sea towards the river’s mouth, and from there, upstream.
Her ears twitch, a voice carried by the winds towards her. “H-hello?” she calls out uncertainly, both her lavender ears flicking forward with tense curiosity. She continues her way upstream, safely in the middle of the river. It is not until she follows a curve that she spots him. Like her his coloring is in soft pastels, but his is golden compared to her lavender. Her fins are pulled tightly against her sides, like one would tuck its wings, but it does nothing to block out the cold. Ischia’s warmth didn’t reach this far. “Hi..” she murmurs, her dished head tilting to the side as she studies him curiously. “Was it your flower I found at sea?”
05-06-2018, 09:57 AM (This post was last modified: 05-06-2018, 09:58 AM by Svedka.)
the secret of our world is written in the stars
His cerulean gaze peels from the shadows of the treeline (where he thought someone would be lurking) back to the river, where a small and gentle voice finds his ears. His chin finds his chest in surprise as he takes in the scene before him - a woman (pale and beautiful in the dying world around them), carefully poised in the bubbling river’s middle, with quivering and nearly transparent wings at her sleek sides. He is awestruck, though not enough to keep him frozen on the shoreline. Ever impulsive, the stallion refuses to hesitate the moment he has seen her, and steps into the river’s frigid waters until they kiss and swirl around his knees. The water is biting and cold, but he ignores the numbness of his legs for the sake of inspecting her with wide and sparkling cerulean eyes.
“It made it all the way out to sea?” His voice is deep and clear, easily heard over the sound of the river and the hiss of the water over smooth, gray stones. Svedka’s warm breath comes in plumes of cloud from his mouth, a slight quiver to his pale gold and alabaster skin as the cold of the river sets in, unforgiving in its chill. A charming smile brandishes his rosy lips as he quietly processes the scene before him, and what her finding the panther lily bulb in the middle of the ocean truly meant. “...you were all the way out at sea?”
A mermaid, he thinks to himself, wondering if a siren’s song would be the next thing to leave her pearlescent lips. “Please,” he begins, the river’s surface nearly covering the full length of his muscled legs, “please stay and tell me more, sea-maiden.”
When his eyes find her – the surprise easily readable on his features – she is taken aback by the intense gaze she receives. And where it does not keep him frozen on the shore, it surely has Kylin frozen where she stands on top of the water. Both her lavender ears are strained forward, and her neck curved as she watches the golden and blue stallion approach.
His eyes enhance her, the longer she stares into them with her own hazel ones, the more she feels the lure to approach him. Not like he is pulling her closer, but simply as is he is wordlessly inviting her to. Kylin nods her head once, twice, then a smile tugs on the corners of her lips. “It did” she confirms, her own enthusiasm fuelled by his. The lavender woman cannot contain herself as she steps closer, hesitantly, and extends her curved neck to offer him her nose. She had to lower her nose quite a bit to level it with his height, as she stands on top of the water that cuts his legs. Just to exchange scents. Or so she tells herself. His question, after pulling back, makes her chuckle, as she looks at him amused. “How else could I’ve found it? I come from Ischia.”
It is easy to imagine how cold it must be, if the low waves and lost droplets that wet her own coat are a good representation. And even without having to stand in freezing water, it is much too cold for Kylin’s liking. Out here in the open, where the wind easily cuts their flesh. Again he makes her chuckle, and glancing away flustered. “Shall we move to the shore? The water is pretty cold..” she instead offers, shivering her body wants to put extra weight to her words. Her fins are enough to hide the slight swell of her stomach, but don’t do anything to keep Kylin warm. “And please, I’m no sea-maiden..” Ivar’s kelpie queen would fit that description better.
Once they reach the shore – Kylin walking on top of the river while the golden and white and blue stallion waddles through it – the silence is about to turn awkward. She is not the deity he might think she is. “What would you like to know..?” she mumbles, a tad bit uneasy as she glances sideways to offer him an apologetic smile. “I just followed your pretty flower’s path upstream..”
The water is cold and unforgiving against his skin, biting into the muscle that quivers uncontrollably beneath its touch. But he cannot leave the water; not yet, anyway, with this creature before him. Standing on the surface of the water, with transparent wings that glitter like cobwebs in the dewy sunlight mornings back in Hyaline, and the color of the purest white and the lavender growing in the valley. She steps closer to him, the nameless maiden, and he shows his pleasure by the way his pinkish lips break apart to form a charming smile, his eyes coming alive and sparkling at her confirming his question. It fascinates him that the single bulb had traveled far beyond the sea and so perfectly found its way to her, then led her to him. It is like a story he had heard beneath the rumble of the volcano when he had been just a foal, but now he is living in it instead.
“It’s good to know it had left me for a greater purpose,” he breathes in a hushed tone, his voice pouring into vapor as it leaves his pale mouth, pulling his chin towards his chest as she steps closer to him. She offers him her nose and he eagerly accepts it, stretching out his pale golden neck to gently press his muzzle to hers, his eyes bright. His nostrils flare, quivering as he inhales the scent of salt and sun - a distant memory, fuzzy in his mind, though lacking the smoke and ash of his forgotten homeland. Ischia’s name passes through her lavender lips and he smirks, only moving his nose from hers when she pulls away from him first with a soft chuckle that reminds him much of the tinkling of sea-glass.
Svedka pulls himself from the riverbed with the water-walker now beside him on the grey bank. His voice shivers with the cold, his muscles tightening beneath his coat in attempt to keep the blood flowing. “You are a maiden, yes? And of the sea - how are you not?” She is unabashedly unsure and almost nervous beside him, and he wonders why she is; had no one asked her about herself before? He smiles easily and warmly, despite the cold that rakes their skin. The sound of the river churns lazily behind them and with a fluidity in his step he moves himself closer to her, the dampness of his legs from the water creating a much bolder version of himself in doing so. “You must be a master of the seas to stand so perfectly above it without sinking below it,” he offers with a deep laugh, touching his chin to his chest which causes the red and black feather behind his ear to move out from beneath the veil of ivory and blue mane. He shifts his weight casually, nearly hip to hip with the stranger that came to him from the sea. His neck uncurves, hovering his muzzle just a few inches before her mouth, non verbally asking for permission to touch her again, if only for the sake of warmth in the dead of winter.
“What does it feel like - walking on water as if it’s land?”
It is a new experience to be the center of another’s attention. She does not know, or understand, what it is that has him this interested and attentive, but there is no way in denying that she likes it. Lately, she has again felt lonely. Kylin had somewhat gotten accepted into Ischia’s Brotherhood, but it isn’t like she really knows any of them, let alone has a friend on the isle. So to meet someone who seems to enjoy her presence, makes her feel alive. And quite flattered too. His charming smile is enough encouragement for Kylin to offer one of her own in return, and like that she shares his excitement for his flower’s far travel.
Again he has her flustered, this time because of his words. “Greater purpose?” she repeats after him, her own voice just as soft, but with curiosity clearly audible. What was it that made him thing their meeting is special? Not that Kylin dislikes him, or that she isn’t interested, but it is honestly a mystery to her why he thought meeting her is.
Well, when put that way, there is no way she can tell him he is not right. She simply is female ánd she supposes she kind of is of the sea. Ischia and the sea are one, and yet separate beings. Still, Kylin does not identify herself as such, sea-maiden sounds like something revered, special, and Kylin is everything but. And thus does she neither confirm nor deny his explanation.
He is a big contrast to the world around them. Not only does he radiate warmth, his presence is strangely comforting too, like she has known him all her life. But that is not the reason why she shifts closer to his side as they walk. Why had she thought of it as a good idea to leave Ischia in winter? It is a given that Kylin does not handle the cold well, her coat too thin to even pretend that she isn’t cold. At least his body heath helped, and as a bonus she’s shielded from the cold breeze at that side too. From her position there she shrugs her shoulders slightly, meeting his gaze for a short moment before glancing away. “I don’t really know.. To walk on water.. It comes natural to me? Like others are able to fly?” It has nothing to do with mastering the sea, all she masters is that she is able to walk on top of its surface like one walks on land.
Her eyes follow the movement of the dark feather against his pale blue and white mane. For a moment it captures her attention, which she only realises when he brings his muzzle closer to hers. Flustered, once again, but she does not deny him this. Instead she brings her head closer to him, and clears all space between them. A sigh escapes past Kylin’s lips. He is warm, but the rest of her so very cold.
What is it like? Honestly, not something Kylin has thought of before. “I.. Well, it just feels.. solid? Waves still wash over my hooves if they’re higher than the surface I’m standing on.. It is like I mentally will myself to be less dense than the water, and thus am able to walk on top, instead of sink?” Well, credits for making sense, not.
@[Svedka]
Sorry for my rambling about nothing really.. Hope that muse is kinder to me in next reply..
“Yes,” he responds with a gentle laugh, the cerulean of his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Everything has a greater purpose, even after its death.” He pauses, a flick of his damp tail against his legs. “It fell from my mane, and though no longer useful as it was created to be, the river gave it another purpose.” He smiles, his face now turned behind them at the river towards their backs, his pale golden cheek near his shoulder. “It brought you to me.” Svedka turns back wistfully, pressing the pale pink of his lips to the corner of her mouth ever so briefly before drawing back and turning to face forward once again. “Soon, I bet, that we will discover why the gods brought us together.”
Svedka can tell that she is slightly incredulous at the name ‘sea-maiden’, but he does not press the idea any further. It didn’t matter, truly. He would perhaps always envision her as the sea-goddess that came walking to him on the water, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him from reliving that daydream. She does not seem to be deterred by their close proximity, though the coldness of winter has forced them to quickly become comfortable as strangers. He doesn’t mind, of course, as he would never shy away from the close proximity of another being. She is extravagant to behold, which also helped.
Like flying.
There it is again - that word that though is seen all throughout Beqanna, remains out of his reach. His smile becomes fuller, the deep ocean blue of his eyes lightly falling to the dewy fabric of her own wings, imagining flight though it is still incomprehensible to him. Her description is perfect - detailed, rational, logical. The stallion closes his eyes thoughtfully, imagining as she speaks. He nods in understanding as his white-lashes open to find her eyes once again, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “No, you misunderstand! What does it feel like?”
Like freedom? Like nature melting into your bones? Powerful? A oneness with the Earth?
Are it his words, that fluster her, or is it the mischievous expression upon his features? It flatters her to – again – hear his philosophy on how this all is a ‘greater purpose’. Because from her point of view, meeting her isn’t all that special. Meeting him, well that is an entire different story. Kylin already likes him. Likes how he makes her feel, special. Kharon, Ivar, and now Klaudius too, made her feel special too, but a different kind of special. Nonetheless, that does not make Kylin like this golden and pale blue male any less. “Do you really think so?” she asks, beaming, as she very much likes the idea.
A particular cold gust of wind has her pressing closer against his side. Kylin, too, is particularly fond of close proximity. She always felt better with someone right at her side, even when winter’s cold couldn’t be used as an excuse. For now, it would do, because what other good explanation would she be able to give for pressing her side against that of a stranger? She even didn’t know his name yet.
“Oh..” is the soft sound that leaves her lips before she glances away, flustered that she had misunderstood what he had been really asking. It was an easier way to answer his question, because there is only one way Kylin can describe what it feels like. “It feels like coming home.. You know.. The water has always..” a brief pause, her hazel eye searching his as she searches for words. “.. well, you know.. called me. As if it’s the place I truly belong, both while walking and swimming.” Her fins tremble ever so slightly at her sides, as if to show they agree with her words. If the water only wasn’t too cold to swim.
Her voice is intrigued by his idea, his carefully woven words that spin a delicate tale of longing and purpose, all the while a breathless smile has overtaken his pale, pinkish lips. “Of course,” he reassures her with a rumbling chuckle deep in his chest, bobbing his head enthusiastically. “Everyone has a greater purpose - even you and I.” Here, the stallion takes a step sideways so that he may be nestled into her side, the white and gold and lavender of their bodies now skin on skin. Their closeness is innocent (he does not react for her with intentions of a snow-lit romp), though there is perceptible warmth and electricity he can feel between their cold skin that cannot erase the elated smile on his handsome face. The cold wind stirs, loosening the feathers from his mane and twirling them around the sharpness of his jawline, ivory and blue tendrils of forelock covering his eyes.
Her next words send him reeling ever so happily in his own mind; even a soft nicker leaves his mouth in utter bliss of her description. Svedka has always loved words and how just choosing a few can create an entire painting of a masterpiece in his mind’s eye. “Coming home,” he repeats in a gentle murmur, recalling that he had never heard anyone use that kind of phrasing before when it came to their ability. He thinks that he enjoys her answer the most so far.
“So you must never be far from the water then, if it is your home?” He smiles, his voice pooling into a cloud of vapor before his pale nose before dissipating into nothingness of the thin and cold air. It makes him wonder where her home is truly, or at least where she currently lives (Svedka knows better than anyone that home is not a place, but a feeling), and that thought brings him to the realization that he has yet to ask for her name. It is something he has done before; easily he can forget the small talk, overlooking the pleasantries and diving immediately into the daydreams and stories that he so dearly enjoys. “My name is Svedka, by the way. I’ve come from Hyaline.”
How can she not be intrigued? By both him ánd his words. He has put a thought in her head, one she would never have considered before. It was like a new world, or a different type of reality, had been opened to her. Kylin would be lying to say she is not interested to hear more. “Everyone?” she repeats softly, her dished head tilting a little to the side as she casts him a flustered glance out of the corner of her eye. She is listening closely, to each and every word the handsome pale golden and blue stallion speaks. “Is it the same for..” Her voice trails off, and as she pauses, her gaze wanders away. “.. everything that happens?” Something like the equines she cares about leaving?
The unexpected gust of cold air makes her shudder, and press closer against his side. Dear lords it is cold, freezing, and again Kylin wonders why she had thought it a good thing to leave Ischia during the freaking winter? Why couldn’t she have waited until early spring? That would mean she would’ve never met this handsome stranger though, and that thought is as unsettling as the cold that brings them together.
“Like coming home..” she repeats in a soft murmur, nodding her head just slightly. A smile still lies upon her lips, and just thinking about the feeling he had asked her to describe helps her relax, even if the cold still attacks them. His next question is met with another nod, and another smile. “Ischia is as connected to the sea as a land can be. There are plenty of sweet water ponds too, but none as impressive as Hyaline’s lake” she says, as if lost in thought.
Upon hearing where he comes from – which offers a bigger shock than the pleasantry of knowing his name – her head rises with a sharp jerk and her eyes widen. The surprise is readable all over her face as she stops and turns to study him. “You.. You come from H-Hyaline?” she repeats stuttering, unable to believe it even if had said so. Perhaps her trips to Hyaline did have a greater purpose after all, but if they had been meant to meet, why hadn’t they during the time she’d spend there? Last year, Kylin had lived in Hyaline for quite a couple of months: from the winter all the way to early summer. Had she left too early? Had she ruined it all by leaving, and was them meeting now the result of that? So many questions, but she has now answers. And there is not a single part of her that thinks of asking Svedka, afraid he would think her a fool.
