"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
Despite his paternal instincts begging for him to remain in the humid and tropical climate of Tephra, the Overseer’s broad wings outspread in a grand sweep beside him, sunlight warming each lithe bone and navy feather. Tangerine is at his side, round with pregnancy, pressing gentle kisses into the musculature of his neck and shoulder, encouraging words of sights still unseen that have been shown to her in her third eye. The osprey-king finds his muzzle deep within the tangle of the mixture of dark and light tendrils, inhaling her sweet scent and whispering promises into her ear, while the salted and smoke-tinged sea sprays them as dark, crinkling water splashes against volcanic rock.
He inhales deeply one last time; he must go, or he might never leave.
Warrick’s strong wings heave his weight into the familiar sky, leaving behind the dark plume of smoke that rises from the volcano and the accompanying black shoreline. Once in the sky and heading west, his mind feels slightly clearer. The heaviness of the crown is a burden, where concern and worry nearly always plague the brightness of his blue gaze, but it is a burden he would gladly bear for his people and his home. There are times when he looks back on the days where Offspring ruled, and how his life only concerned himself and Tangerine, and the twins. But time marches on and is merciless in its growth, and no longer are his days carefree and idle. Especially with darkness brewing in the southwestern forest.
The weather is warm and bright as he comes to the white sands of Ischia, unmarred by the familiar smell of smoke and ash. With quivering nostrils he calls for Brennen while he is still in the air, and for any of the brotherhood, the sound of his wings as they beat at his sides echoing above the soft crash of clear waves against pristine shores. Low tide greets his navy hooves, splashing into warm and translucent tide pools with a heavy and solid sound of his weight onto the sand. Warrick’s wings stretch and flap once, twice, at his auburn sides before their cobalt feathers are tucked in carefully, turning his neck to gently pull at the haphazard feathers with his teeth to lay them correctly. Hermit crabs chitter in the shallow water beneath him, scrambling in the white sand to find shelter, as well as the shining slivers of minnows trapped there, who now gently nibble at his fetlocks experimentally.
After much thought and deliberation, Warrick felt it is the time to meet the new King, and embolden their friendly stature into something much more. Nerine backed Brennen, as well as his own daughter in Hyaline. Wishbone’s judgement of him had solidified Warrick’s decision, and was rather interested to meet the bay stallion himself. The Overseer also wanted to tell Brennen himself that despite allowing a few that do not find the brotherhood to be just, his own personal ideas about Ischia were not the same and Tephra would not become a country set on revenge or vengeance because of the mutiny. Ischia is the closest kingdom to Tephra; an ally to the west would greatly relieve the building tension that grows between Sylva and the rest of Beqanna.
The skies were vacant as the chestnut son of Brennen patrolled along the borders of Ischia. Alone, silence washed through him as he reveled in the power of his wings as they carried him effortlessly through the sky. Below him, the tropical foliage stretched up towards him. Since his father had taken over the island was bursting with activity as many new faces decided to call the island home. The brotherhood was growing, and he was proud to be a part of it.
Pointing himself towards the beach, Belgaer’s pace quickened. The ocean seethed beneath his shadow as the tide pushed itself upon the beach creating small wading pools in its wake. Small crustaceans skittered about the sand’s warm surface as the built themselves new burrows within the dunes that separated the beach from the island’s tropical center. Winter had chased away many of the birds and, though the island remained warmer than the rest of Beqanna, even the parrots huddled themselves high in the trees. The occasional indignant squawk broke the silence but, for the most part, they remained quiet. The silence that often times accompanied the cold was always slightly disconcerting for the freckled chestnut, preferring the activity of spring.
As he flew the sound of an unfamiliar voice broke through the thick veil of silence, drawing Belgaer’s ears towards it. Since his father’s ascension there had been many visitors from across the land, though this one felt different. Curious, he pointed his frame towards the sound finding easily the navy pointed stallion as he waited beside his heavily pregnant mare. Smiling peacefully, he landed a few feet away from them, giving them plenty of space to acknowledge his approach. Tucking his wings against him he smiled peacefully as he started towards them. Though Belgaer did not recognize the stallion and his mare, he sensed that their intentions meant them no harm. Still, he remained cautious.
“Good day,” he began politely. “My name is Belgaer, son of Brennen. What brings you to our shores?”
The Prodigal Son
@[Warrick] I hope you don't mind me dropping him here. He needs a little bit more activity and involvement. @[Brennen]
hold me in this wild, wild world 'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
Brennen is stealing a quiet, private moment with one of his grandchildren, in a clearing not far from the place where jungle meets shore. Grye is a strange child, but he has been blossoming under the attention of Brennen, and Galilee, and his aunts and uncles; the bay pegasus had wondered at first if it was really wise of his twins to drop their son here, not even six months old, but he had welcomed the boy of course into the family fold, and there’s no denying he has grown well in every way since. And, well, the twins are just odd, and perhaps they wouldn’t make the best parents anyway. He’s coaching his youngest grandson in some of his very first battle-lessons this bright afternoon, when his own name reaches them from somewhere above.
He gathers the colt to his side and sets off briskly down the path towards the shore, a ground-eating trot tempered only by making sure the creamy-colored boy can keep up. When he sets eyes upon the one who called him, even from a distance, it’s a little like looking into a clear pool and seeing himself; Warrick could be Brennen’s slightly distorted reflection, if you took his inky dark points and wings and made them a deep navy instead. As he is considering the stranger, Grye darts ahead of him, suddenly excited by the presence of his uncle. “Uncle Bel, Uncle Bel, grandpa was showing me the coolest moves -” he cuts off and blinks green eyes at Warrick, his little almost-yearling nose wrinkling at a quite familiar scent, and then he tucks himself close to his spotted uncle’s side, his still-small size allowing him to fit just barely under Belgaer’s right wing.
“You’re from Tephra,” he addresses this comment to the stranger, taking another breath filled with the sulfuric scent of his birthplace. Before he can say anything else, Brennen arrives, placing himself on Belgaer’s right side as well, sandwiching the youngest between the two of them and a gently censorious look is enough to quiet the boy - for now (it’s a toss up; half the time the colt is every inch his irrepressible, do-as-I-please dam, but the other half he is a carbon copy of his soft-spoken and unerringly polite sire). Then he lifts his gaze to his son’s face and gives Bel a quick, approving smile before turning a polite but impassive look on the stranger. “As my son said, welcome to Ischia. I’m Brennen, and the scamp is Grye.” The quickest glimmer of a smile there invites the Tephran to share in the inescapable humor and chaos of surrounding oneself with littles.
Grye is still quiet, but watching the stranger with an intentness not always seen in youth of his tender age; he wants so badly to ask about his parents, but so far his grandfather’s unspoken warning keeps him from doing so. “What can we help you with?” Brennen continues with a curious tilt of his dished face.
hold me in this wild, wild world and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
It is not long before he is joined by another - a brother, as Warrick would assume they are called. The soft and sturdy sound of wings bring a stranger to him, clothed in white and bronze with notably peaceful eyes. Warrick’s own eyes greet him warmly, a thrust of his chin towards his chest as he bobs his head in greeting. The Overseer meets the other halfway, striding towards him through the warm waters of the shallow tide pools. “Belgaer,” Warrick repeats his name with a firm nod, his gaze shifting slightly as he catches movement in the distance - two more, it appears, have seen his arrival and heard his call. The bay-and-navy stallion smiles at the sight of the colt, familiar with the struggles of parenthood and almost comforted by the sight of Brennen (he assumes - the way the bay stallion carries himself is nearly unmistakable) and the young boy.
Warrick’s cerulean gaze - dark and oceanic, like the crinkling waters of Tephra - rests on Brennen but only for a moment. He is quickly distracted by the colt, who has barely noticed Warrick himself yet, and excitedly spews news to Belgaer, his uncle. Cobalt lips upturn into a smile as the colt’s vibrant green gaze notices him, and Warrick snorts pointedly in response. “You have good senses, Gyre. I am, in fact, from Tephra,” he replies warmly, with a chuckle reverberating in his chest. Warrick finds the colt familiar somehow, but he only knew the story of a child hatched from Tephra’s volcano, found by his friend Amorette - and not that this is, in fact, that child. Perhaps that will come to fruition at a later time.
“My name is Warrick.” There are no need for titles, which Warrick had never enjoyed anyway, and he is relaxed by the fact that Brennen offered no title either.
The Overseer’s eyes flicker upward to Brennen, offering the Island-King a swift nod of acknowledgement. “Your island is truly beautiful, Brennen. I have always been fond of the ocean, but there is no mistaking Ischia’s being a paradise.” It was true; the smoke and ash of Tephra, though emboldening and well-known, did not appear as welcoming and inviting as Ischia. The clear waters of the lagoon he had just flown over had simply stunned him, and he wonders why he had never visited before. “I’ve come to meet you in person, Brennen. Our kingdoms being in such close proximity called for a face-to-face; to discuss our visions and our hopes for our countries, and to determine if they are the same.”
The osprey-stallion smiles knowingly, feeling comfortable with the two men and the colt. Warrick has always trusted his instincts, and though he knew Wound would never lead him astray, merely being in Ischia solidifies his previous thoughts of a possible alliance. Brennen, however, may not feel the same and Warrick wanted to give him an opportunity to learn more about Tephra and himself, and for him to learn more about Ischia.
The kingly stallion is quick to acknowledge Belgaer and, for the first time, the young stallion begins to count the similarities he had to his own father. Both bay in color their only truly discernable differences lay with the tint of their wings. The bay before him donned a breathtaking pair of navy plumes, while Brennen’s own set were inky black. The two were barely alone when the sound of two approaching figures quickly catches their ears. Following the island’s guest’s gaze, a smile lights Belgaer’s face as his nephew broke enthusiastically onto the beach. Calling him by name the colt’s energy abounds as he danced excitedly about himself.
“Maybe your uncle Belgaer ought to show you some moves of his own?” The older stallion said as he lowered himself to the colt’s level. Whispering he smiled despite himself, “I have moves that old man has never seen!”
The colt’s smile is short lived, however, as he quickly notices that they were not alone. Momentarily startled, the hatchling pinned himself under one of Bel’s wings. With a soft smile, the older stallion nudged the colt comfortingly.
Brennen was not far behind his wily charge. Ever the picture of professionalism the stallion shot a quick suppressive glace towards Grye. The stranger, however, appeared unfazed by the hyperactive display, a placid smile upon his lips. Stepping forward he addressed the child, quick to see him at ease, before turning his attention back to the adult.
Warrick, he named himself and Belgaer knew him well. Though they had never formally met, he’d heard countless stories of the kings and felt honored to finally find himself in the great king’s presence. “It is an honor to welcome you here, King Warrick.” Belgaer said with a quick and polite nod of his head.
As he would have expected from such a diplomatic king, he had traveled to meet Brennen in person to iron out the details of a possible alliance. Belgaer was intent on observing and learning all that he could and, if possible, offer what ever he could to help.
“I am sure Ischia will do whatever it can to ensure peace throughout Beqanna,” he spoke boldly hoping that his father would approve of his words. Ischia’s relations with Sylva were precarious after his sister’s return. It had been made abundantly clear to them that the new king there had little to no interest of forming alliances. He was dangerous, Belgaer knew. They held one of their own prisoner there as well as several others. He could only hope that they would soon recover their losses.
He is always glad to see his older children embracing the younger generation, and the affection between Bel and Grye is no different. Brennen watches them for a moment more, a faraway look in his eyes and a smile on her face, before turning his mind to the actual meeting at hand. He’s unsurprised to find Warrick on his doorstep - Wound had given every indication that he should expect such a thing after she has returned home. He nods his thanks now as Warrick compliments their island home, and looks at it with eyes alight with the knowledge that it is a place of great beauty.
“I’m sorry to say I haven’t had the opportunity to visit Tephra, though I am sure it has its own unique beauty,” is what he ends up demurring, though he is also quite sure that if they do end up in a relationship, he will have plenty of opportunity to do so. Before he can say anything else, the yearling colt has moved from being pressed to Bel’s side to his grandfather’s, lips reaching up eagerly towards Brennen’s dark-tipped ear. Obligingly and mostly out of habit, the bay bends his neck to listen. ”Did you know Tephra has an exploding mountain?” Grye tries to whisper it but his voice carries nevertheless. “Is that right? Well you can tell me all about it later,” Brennen answers him in a much quieter tone, and then catches the end of Belgaer’s statement and nods solemnly.
”I agree that it would be very valuable to both our countries if we were to align ourselves. I would feel very much better knowing that one of the two land-ways onto Ischia was on land controlled by a friend.” The path across at low tide from Tephra is less well-used than the one from the other side, but still Brennen can not be in two places at once to supervise low tide. ”We do seek peace, the Brotherhood, but not at the cost of a defamation of our values. Loess has stolen one of our own, and Sylva has as well, and treated him poorly. I see no good in them, only a desire for violence and chaos, and so Ischia will stand against both Kingdoms if they continue their reign of terror.”
The interaction between Belgaer and his nephew created a small smile on Warrick’s navy lips. It seems that Ischia is also fond of family ties, much like he is himself. The thought puts him at ease, even though Wound had prepared him readily for the Brotherhood’s intentions. Warrick’s head nods heavily in the direction of Belgaer, pleased with the greeting and deciding that he rather liked the spotted chestnut stallion. “And I know that Tephra will do the same,” he says in response to Brennen’s son, allowing the cerulean of his gaze to flicker towards Brennen himself, their uncanny visual similarities bringing a sparkle of amusement to his eye. They could be mistaken for brothers, perhaps.
Gyre whispers of Tephra’s volcano, and Warrick responds with a wistful smile at the younger boy. It almost confirms his suspicions, hearing the soft voice, that the child had been to Tephra before. “You are welcome whenever the feeling strikes, King Brennen.” He glances down at Gyre momentarily, and then to Belgaer. “And whoever would like to accompany you. It is not as lustrous as Ischia, but you will see that even though vastly different, the tides shift the same.” He smiles, lifting his gaze to the leader of the Brotherhood, affirming Brennen’s words with a slight nod.
“It seems we have more in common than I originally thought, and in similar circumstances. Sylva has stolen one of our refugees, and another is missing. Loess is an enemy of Nerine, by way of Ischia, so in turn is our enemy as well.” Warrick pauses. “Tephra will stand with you, if it comes to keeping back the evil and chaos of the forest and whatever is in Loess. I want to let you know from my own lips that Tephra is more than willing to support this island in any way it can. In any way I can. My country is already allied with your sister-kingdom as well as the sanctuary of Hyaline, whom I trust completely, so extending my loyalty to you and to have that loyalty returned, would be my honor.”
"Also, Brennen, I need you to know that though Tephra houses previous Ischian residents, Tephra and myself are impartial to your rise to power; you followed the laws and I do not rebuke you, so neither does Tephra. There will be no foul play because of bruised egos or homesickness." It needed to be known that he would not allow anyone to influence his decisions with Ischia in the future.
05-27-2018, 11:20 PM (This post was last modified: 05-27-2018, 11:20 PM by Brennen.)
Ooc; I’m not going to reply to this since Brennen will be visiting very soon anyway. sorry, Drom, but Brennen would love to talk to Bel in another thread <3
sorry, Drom, but Brennen would love to talk to Bel in another thread <3