she learned a lesson back there in the flames; any

[Cordis]

She has been lost for a long time. She wanders to places with no name or history and she tries to lose herself there, another stupid wanderer, and she pretends she has no name or history. Pretends there was never a woman she loved so wholly that it’s destroyed her, pretends there was no love so sweet she’d kill or die for it. Once, when she is desperate, when it’s her hundredth or thousandth night of waking alone, she tries to wipe her own memory. Like sewing up her own wounds. But her hand shakes – the knife slips – and instead she wakes several hours later with a bruise she can’t explain and a stain on her chest of something dark and foul. She doesn’t know what happened, but she still remembers her lover. She wants to stay lost. Stay in these nameless places where nothing can be linked to memories, where it’s white and quiet and nothing. But sometimes she walks. And she slips from unknown lands into known ones, and then she’s back in the meadow, and the memories are like a hammer to the chest. She looks the same as ever. Molten silver from head to toe, and caged in lightning. It sparks about her like a shield, her own form of razor wire, keeping her quite literally untouchable. Her eyes are the only betrayal, laying sleepless and hollow in their sockets. Back. She’s back. c o r d i s I’ll touch you all and make damn sure that no one touches me

[Leilan]

Gold has never looked so good on him. The metallic shimmer of his mane and tail catches the warm golden sunlight of the autumn sun so easily - his reddish brown and black body melts perfectly between the yellowing autumn grass, the orange leaves that fall, the yellow ones that are still stuck to the trees. He fits in, he looks like autumn - his favourite season. Yet on the other side, opposites attract. Quite literally, because there is an opposite to him nearby. As he trots the meadow's grass and late-blooming flowers, he spies the molten silver mare easily and he is instantly drawn in by her looks - until he's close enough to see the hollowness in her eyes, the electric sparks that hold him back, and everyone else - he almost draws up his own elemental aura, but unless it was really made of ice, it would not help against the lightning, and the bold stallion suddenly is cautious. Not cautious enough to work in a bit of humour, though. She looks like she needs it. "Ma'am, can I just say you are one shocking appearance." It's a compliment in his way, but he's not sure she'll take it as that. He lowers his head a little to look at her from the black curtain of his forelock, eyes trying to get a hold of her empty gaze. What could have happened, he doesn't know. He's suddenly certain he doesn't want to know, either.

@[Cordis]

[Cordis]

Gold was her color. Not garish, in the way Cordis’s silver shines. No, Spyndle had been gold (and when they embraced, there were alchemy metaphors, electrum metaphors, and not a single damn one ever did them justice). A soft gold, the kind begot in nature, nothing so bright and strange as she. This stallion is not gold like Spyndle is. Was. He is mixed metals, mane and tail made odd, an autumnal picture. He says something. A joke. Her lip curls, but whether in grimace or smile, it’s hard to tell. The lightning stays. He looks harmless enough, this stranger, but Cordis knows harm too well to trust anyone. There’s no point to it. (She lost faith somewhere in the depths of her prison cell, when she’d died a hundred or a thousand times. No point to faith.) (She lost it again when she came upon a pile of bones at the river. A love story, gone. Just like that. Life is fleeting and stupid.) She almost leaves. It is so easy to leave. He wouldn’t follow. She is not the kind of woman worth following. But she stays. Maybe she’s lonely, or bored, or maybe she sees something in him that begs a moment longer. “Protection,” she tells him, as if this explains it. “My name is Cordis,” she says, then. She gives up that much. Her own name feels strange in her mouth. It’s been months since she’s spoken it aloud. c o r d i s I’ll touch you all and make damn sure that no one touches me

[Leilan]

Leilan

Your beauty is beyond compare -
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...

Leilan would follow any girl around if he thought it'd make them feel better (in the end, not right away that is). But although the molten-silver mare does give him that impression, as if she's been thinking it, still she stays, and he doesn't have to follow. She says but a few words, though. Perhaps just not the talkative type.

She doesn't have to be. He's content with watching, he is intrigued with what she can do. She says it's protection, and he shrugs. "Not from me I hope?" he outs, but he doesn't think that she will lower the barrier even if she believes him harmless. She doesn't seem the type to him, she has an air about her that he won't get through immediately. Given time, if she would allow him to follow her all over the world, then maybe. But she probably would not allow that, either, and this is a single encounter, sadly.

"I'm please to meet you, Cordis." And he means it - she is a story on her own, and even if she will not reveal anything else to him today, he can tell anyone interested that he met a sad-looking, electricity-sparking, molten silver mare. No really, fully silver, like the metal, I tell you.

"And I'm Leilan." he smiles at her, perhaps more crookedly than he usually would, but he thinks that a smile is better than any neutral or sour look always, period. And perhaps if he tries real hard, she will smile too. Maybe just a half smile, maybe as short as a millisecond - but he's set his goal for the day. "What brings you to the meadow, shiny lady? You don't look the flaunting type to me." Even though perhaps she should.

there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick

@[Cordis]

[Cordis]

Not from me, I hope, he says, and she smiles. He didn’t intend it to be humorous, she knows, and she wonders what his life is like. He seems kind enough, and she envies it. She’s seen too many filthy prisons to be kind. Lost too much. Hollow things are not kind. “From strangers,” she says, a workaround answer. She doesn’t fear this man, not in this moment, but she lives in a generalized, constant state of vigilance. She has learned that lesson, learned it the hard way. (No level of protection would have saved her from the dark god, she tells herself, but it might have saved her from other things.) He asks what brought her here, and she aches. It’s a common question, small talk, asked with a smile and she knows she should smile back, play the game, and she tries for a moment and finds she can’t. Oh well. “I lived here,” she says, “it was one of my first homes.” It was where she first met Spyndle, here – in the meadow, years or decades ago, when she was fresh from His lair, when she couldn’t stop running. It was here they raised their children (and lost one, her daughter kidnapped, ripped from her helpless grasp). Love and loss and on and on. She always ends up back here. “What about you, Leilan?” she asks, “what’s brought you here?” c o r d i s I’ll touch you all and make damn sure that no one touches me

[Leilan]

Leilan

Your beauty is beyond compare -
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...

The roan takes her answer for granted, nodding to her. It is the common answer. ”But what to do with those you’ve met that you can’t name strangers yet you don’t know yet if they’re friend or for?” Like himself? Maybe. But it is aimed in a more general direction, because he thinks that she keeps up her armor out of habit moe than anything else. ”What if you scared away only the gentle friendly souls and only the brave, stupid, and dangerous remain to approach you?” he wonders, perhaps she needs to think that through.

His attempts at small talk seem to hurt the molten silver mare - perhaps he has triggered a bad memory. Perhsps that is why she is as she is today, and he doesn’t want to ask about it. What’s past is past. But she attempts to converse anyway, and he smiles at her for that. Perhaps another joke will lighten her heart today, if briefly, or perhaps she will walk away - but he has no other way, she doesn’t seem willing to roamce after all. ”Flaunting, of course.” he grins. He adds a little more seriously, ”and the fact that I can’t sit still for more than a day should do it, too.”

there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick

@[Cordis]

[Cordis]

“I err on the side of caution,” she says. It was a lesson hard learned. She does not know how to be approachable, certainly not now. Truth is, she doesn’t know how to be much of anything, now – she exists but that’s it. She doesn’t thrive, doesn’t better herself, she simply is, a silver woman with lighting and too many bad memories to count. “And truth be told, I haven’t met many friendly souls,” she says, “though I’m not a friendly soul myself, so I’m not one to talk.” It’s a strangely honest confession, and perhaps one that would drive him away. She doesn’t want him to leave, not really – there is a part of her that is desperately lonely, a primal, instinctual part of her that cries out for company in spite of the lightning and the black marks checkered across her soul. Perhaps this sparks what she says next, which is: “I do apologize for my tone. It hasn’t been the best month. Or year.” Years, really, but that’s more gloom than she cares to share. She doesn’t really know how much time has passed (time does not exist in such a dark place, He had said to her once, and it had stuck with her ever since). “Surely there are better souls to flaunt at than me,” she says, “much of it goes over my head.” Her own countenance, while dramatic, aren’t intended to draw the eye (they do, of course, but it’s not her wont). She supposes she could make the lightning invisible, but she likes the visibility of her. The way brightly colored frogs mark themselves poisonous. Warning signs. Or maybe there’s a touch of drama to her, after all. c o r d i s I’ll touch you all and make damn sure that no one touches me

[Leilan]

Leilan

Your beauty is beyond compare -
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...

She is a strange one - it attracts him in a strange, platonic way - and he wants to know more about her. But she is also very closed, and whatever the feel he gets from her, he also feels that prying will get her to walk away, if not hurt him in any other possible way. She admits to not being a friendly person, and he shrugs. "You could easily be, with that kind of protection." Should one make use of her friendliness in a way she didn't like, she had the means to get away from it almost too easily, it seemed. She then apologizes for her harsh tone, and he nods to her. "Perhaps seek some friendly horses out. Watch and learn, as it were." He grins, a bit cheekily.

His answer to her question makes him shake his head. "Don't worry, I can handle a bit of neglect from your side. I know how to get attention." His eyes briefly trail the meadow around them before settling back on her. He knows they'd make quite an appearance - silver and russet gold - although the mare is obviously even more of an attention-drainer, both of them ignore whoever might be watching. He cocks his head at her and adds a knowing look. "It's good for your self-esteem, really. Come on, don't say you don't like the attention." He motions his head to the more open space, inviting her to join him. She wouldn't be here if she did not want someone to notice her. He knew that, but, did she?

there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick

@[Cordis]

[Cordis]

Once, she had thought Him friendly. (All these years later and she doesn’t say His name. Naming things gives them power.) In her defense, she had been very young and very stupid – and very alone. A child wandering, parents dead or gone (the distinction never mattered), and He had been there. Asking are you alone. Yes, she’d said. (She’d wonder, years later, if the affirmation had been the final nail in the coffin. Not that He couldn’t have taken her anyway – she was just a child, and there was no lightning, then – but maybe the yes had invited Him in, somehow. As if He were a vampire.) And then, well – well. She is so different, now. Lighting and hard stares and hollowed out, she invites no friendliness into her life. And it doesn’t matter. She smiles politely at his advice. “I’ve never been good at separating the friendly from the not-so-friendly,” she says, “I missed that lesson, growing up.” She grew up in a lair, under His awful eye. She missed a lot of lessons. But learned things, too. How to die and come back. Again and again and again. Still – she stays. She lets him talk. And when he moves his head, motioning to more open spaces, she follows, albeit with healthy distance between them. “You’re strange, Leiland,” she says, but the words are kind, a compliment, “but I’ll follow.” c o r d i s I’ll touch you all and make damn sure that no one touches me

sorry for taking so long -_-

[Leilan]

Leilan

Your beauty is beyond compare -
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...

He cocks his head at the mare. So damn serious.

A little too much to his taste, but that doesn't prevent him from having a perfect good time while talking to her. She responds to him, in a way, and he's dead-set on drawing her out of her shell just a tiny little bit. So her tiny smile could as well be a huge burst of laughter to his taste. It doesn't matter as long as she doesn't mind him being the silly one.

She says she missed a lesson growing up, and it seems to him she must have missed more than one. But that's okay. "I'll teach you, then." It's ridiculous that one as young as he should have to teach her anything - anything but live a little because what she has done so far, it seems to him, is surviving. But surviving is easy. Just keep breathing and get enough food and water.

The way she says he's strange makes him grin. It doesn't sound bad, with that tone. And best of all she agrees to step out of the shadows. "Here we go, then." he nods to her, his last bit of serious tone, then turns and trots a while away, back into the sunlight.

He waits for her a moment, half-turns because he expects her to be slower. For a moment, he's just standing there looking around - then he's quickly on his hind feet and outs a daring whinny to the field of horses. Look at me then. I dare you to not be happy.

Landing on his four feet again, he snorts, contempt. "And now we run." Horses, after all, are herd animals, and the way he's attracting attention, there will be a large bunch of followers. He waits for Cordis to give the signal, but expects nothing less than that she will go along with the plan.

"dear crow, your voice is right enough;
but where are your wits?"

there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick

@[Cordis] it's super old but I love it anyway so, let's chase the sunrise in the end xD