"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
Your beauty is beyond compare - oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
She’d gone as fast as she came, and had come as fast as she left way back then - all of a sudden, without allowing him a word in.
Not this time. Not if he could help it.
He barely said goodbye to Roseen, only a promise to meet her there again later and make good on his proposition to visit the other kingdoms with her. He didn’t register if she said okay, had been distant - about as distant as the spotted Knabstub was at that point. No, he was not okay with this, and it’s about time that she understood that.
Briskly he stepped back and turned. The spotted mare no longer in sight, but her haunting scent still easy enough to track. She’s cantered out, so he set into a gallop, slightly faster, slightly adrenalin-fueled. Okay, more than slightly.
He had time to go over their meetings again and again. Nothing wrong with the first two - at the forest creek and at the Nerine-Ischian Tournament. Something definitely off with their third meeting, when he’d tried to get to know her better, be her friend and, from the one soft touch she ever gave him, perhaps something more. It could still haunt him, the way she’d reached out to brush his jawline, then retreat and give him nothing but an apologetic glance. Heck. He’d even asked her, almost begged her, not to leave him like that, but she did anyway.
Seemed a clear indication that she did not want to be around him after all.
Then this. He hadn’t seen her in over a year, and, even though he knew that he himself had never gone further than the river, looking at the Nerinian border from a distance, she hadn’t seemingly set foot in the land halfway between their homes either. Or at least not that he knew of. After today, he couldn’t be sure if she had simply spotted or scented him earlier than he her and run the other way.
Her barging in on his meeting with Roseen (and Arthas, but that mand had only just barged in similar to that himself) had been the very last thing he’d ever expected. Short of maybe greeting him with a kiss - don’t go there - or you know, drop dead or something.
One would think that if someone avoided you, they would not come up and greet you like nothing ever happened.
Most of all, it had been too late. Had she done this maybe a week to a month after her departure, he might have been able to overlook her erratic behaviour. Talk it out, like normal grownups do. But she had let it fester too long. Let the vines she’d woven into the walls he’d spent so many years on building he wasn’t even aware they were there, become a poison, a mould that had spread from those walls into the heart itself, effortlessly.
Now there wasn’t any room left for love. Sure, there were flings instead of love. Was it love he had felt for her? He doesn’t even know - whatever it had been had been choked out of life a little too early to be sure.
Strokes to ease the pain, a gentle mare to soothe him now or then, just like talking to Roseen had been a distraction, a way to get out. He took it all, at every chance. Didn’t care much if he hurt the others in the process, although he didn’t think he did - most of all he didn’t think though, so who knows.
But walking up to him just like that, was like sticking salty fingers in a roughly stitched-up wound that wasn’t really healed - it hurt. And that hurt had, with the ignoring him, the normal, flat tone of both her greeting and her saying goodbye without so much as a look into his eyes... that hurt was turning him to stone maybe more than anything.
He’s not a diplomat. He’s a warrior. They fight things out and then it’s done.
Her scent trail leads to the forest, and the slightly sweaty stallion crushes through the overhanging leaves and bushes without much thought. Only after he almost busts his head into a tree he slows to a trot, still tracking her. He must be close now, so he stops and snorts, shakes his head to get his thoughts back to now.
Then his eyes refocus with a determination close to anger, ears flicking around to catch each sound. He needs to get it out of his head right now, or she will be his undoing. She already is, but maybe it will ease him to just let it out for once. Maybe he can move on after that. So maybe... if he’s close enough, she will hear. She can’t keep avoiding him forever. Maybe she’ll come out if he calls.
”BRECKIN! You don’t get to walk out on me this time!” Angry. Lost. Hurt. Most of all scared that she won’t show and that he will keep on chasing her for days to come until she gives in - but he will. He has no other options left.
"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
@[Breckin]
Wall of text! Surprised myself a little here.
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
There was no way to cry gracefully, not really, especially when you find yourself alone with no one around to place judgement. Though she ached and rivulets trailed steadily down her chin, there was no heaving chest or anguished cries; she'd merely stopped within the thickest parts of the forest with her head drifting lower, with no fight left in her. It took too much effort to lie to herself anymore and so she'd take the moment for what it was--a quiet, blissful release of her frustrations finally brought to head.
The moment was beginning to make her feel vulnerable, raw on the inside in places she didn't think possible, taking something out of her she didn't even know she had. A fracture in her spirit drove her thinking into a numb static, too tired to give anymore effort right then. She thought she'd been doing well before this encounter, thinking herself capable of the possible repercussions. Gods, how wrong she had been.
The sudden sound of something large pushing through foliage startles her enough to snap her back from her misery, body spinning towards the general direction of the crashing sounds, ears trained forward in the attempt to discern a possible threat. But the following sound of a familiar voice makes her blood run cold with dread and her hearts slides into the pit of her stomach. Leilan had followed her.
The instinct to flee was dominating as the adrenaline wove it's way throughout her body and nearly she does just that, body coiled and ready to retreat. But the vague memory of the last round of the Tournament flickers into her mind's eye; there was a lesson she had learned that day. With a forced inhale and exhale she softens the tension of her muscles, reminding herself that fear shouldn't drive her, even if it was the fear of confronting the person she loved.
Breckin's steps are light as she weaves between the dense trunks of the forest, allowing the slight breeze to dry the lingering tears that no longer ran freely. A final push through the shrub reveals her to him, and she has no doubt he will notice her in the small open area they now shared. She knows she should say something to him, but no words seem suitable for right now, having noticed a strange edge to his voice when he'd called her name. And so she stood quietly, though not quite to her full stature, unable to fully conceal the cloak of visible defeat she had donned in the few minutes of her short lived privacy. Tired eyes rise to meet his, burdened by the weight of unspoken feelings.
@[Leilan] Sorry I wrote this when I was a bit sleepy but wanted to keep things rolling <3
Your beauty is beyond compare - oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
If only he had seen. Alas, he does not. His vision is clouded by, well, not rage, but pain actually. That, or his eyes may just be a little watery. From the wind in his eyes, of course. Not for her.
His body is frozen on the spot, and that might be a good thing. Consider the alternative of a pumped-up, hurt and angry, stocky male warrior horse moving. He certainly would not know what he might have done to her, himself, but it can’t be good.
Instead, he just stares at her blindly. There she is. Saying nothing. For some reason he’d expected her to say something, a sorry maybe, or a question of what is wrong with him, but either she knows neither of this would help and probably would make him snap, or... whatever. Who cares anyway.
He moves - one left ear, slowly retreating into his mane as the silence continues, the right one twitching to do the same. Finally, then, he understands that she won’t speak to him. He growls a little, or grunts, he’s not entirely sure what the sound is, should be, or how he even creates it. For all he knows it might be his own heart crumbling to dust, like the rocks of a mountain slide crashing against one another.
And after what feels like ages, he finds his tongue. But not to apologize.
“What, exactly, were you thinking?” he scolds her like he would a yearling - voice like steel, like ice - steel that would shatter in a minute because of the cold. “Surely you could do a better job at avoiding me. You’re so good at that.” Another sneer, dripping with razor-sharp sarcasm.
He doesn’t even realize that he’s on the brink of snapping. That whatever she does now, it’s not going to be good enough.
"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
@[Breckin] awww I’m sorry, this is gonna be bad
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
There's not much in the way of surprise showing on her face at the obvious anger he held in his posture. It's enough to warrant the rising of her head to a higher degree, eyes narrowed slightly in scrutinizing assessment, waiting to hear exactly what the root cause of his sudden shift in attitude was. He had a problem with her, that much was already clear, but would he reveal to her why?
So it was the avoidance game she had been playing for well over a year now, and her sudden appearance in the Field beside him. Figures. As she had waited to hear what his problem was, there had been a small, hopeful seed planted that maybe his anger had laid somewhere else entirely, but no, he was literally mad at her disappearance. Guilt had already come and visited a long time ago, stoking the shame that she had already felt leaving him so suddenly, but she'd also come to realize that seeking him out when she hadn't been ready to confront him would have been pointless. But the longer she'd stayed away from him, the longer she had had to think about things. What had ultimately kept her away, was the notion that he probably would be happiest chasing women the rest of his life; he'd practically admitted as much to her a long time ago. What was the point in telling him how she really felt? However badly the situation appeared to him, she'd thought her actions were unselfish.
But really, he must be dense. He could have stopped her that day in Nerine, he could have sought her out after, he could have fought harder all along. He hadn't though--and that had been the justification she had needed to stay away, to try to mend the ache of her heart in other ways.
Until today, when she'd tried to test her personal growth and failed miserably at that. And the failure had left her feeling drained, tired and numb. Tired enough that she no longer cared, and she was tired of running from him and herself. And the blues of her lingering sadness begin to bleed red, washing away whatever's left to feel the rise of her own heated anger.
"You're right Leilan, I have been avoiding you." She steps closer to him, her own pale ears pinning deeply along the ridge of her tangled mane. Every step does little to dull the edge ferocity in her words, unknowingly causing the small stones scattered along the Forest floor to rise and float loosely around them. "And what of you? Where have you been all this time? Looking for me?," she matches the sarcasm that drenched his own words, squaring up with his broad shoulders within close range. With a forced blink, the stones drop to the ground around them sounding like heavy rainfall; she needed more practice with her ability, clearly her emotions controlled a part of it.
She's smaller than he is, so it's somewhat of a struggle to meet his line of sight from their close proximity, but she finds it all the same. But their closeness sends a subconcious flutter in her stomach and a shiver down her spine; she'd forgotten how good he smelled and how captivating his presence was to her.
Sensing there's more that he needs to say, she falls quiet but not before sending one more solid strike to the burning iron with a blazing dare, "I'm not avoiding you now. I'm right here."
Your beauty is beyond compare - oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
Ignorance. Ignorance, ignorance, and once more: ignorance.
One is for him, for his own thoughts, the fact that he'd had such a hard time in Loess to not think about her all the time, to want out just to go see how she was, that should have been a clue. Maybe he should have told her that before she left.
Two is for her, to ignore or not see whatever reaction he'd given to her presence, and her threatening to leave.
Three, for the both of them not getting back to one another sooner, for not explaining anything.
And last but not least, for this moment, lashing out in heated, badly controlled anger, at one another instead of seeing the reason for all their shared hurt.
This story looks a lot like a tragedy today.
His other ear completely pinned down as well, he makes a face at her words. Staring at her directly while she walks up to him, he only notices the stones and pebbles when she drops them - perhaps that's for the best. He doesn't have time now to think about how that could be a threat to him, her new trait, something she'd never cared to show before, she probably didn't think he'd be interested, did she?
His head moves downwards slightly, bowing his neck and unknowingly taking a rather proud stance, but he has no eye for anything else than her piercing gaze. Oh, how beautiful she is when she's angry. Really rather intriguing gaze she has. Too bad he has no time to care for any of that any more.
Her voice pierces at how she's not the only one playing hide-and-not-seek. But here's the thing, and he hurls it right back at her. More sarcasm, he's not done with that. "Succumbing to your dying wish of not wanting to see me, darling." Did he just call her...? Meh, whatever. How many times had he swum to shore, crashed through the undergrowth in the riverland, only to halt at the Nerinian border, to hesitate, and return because he was so sure she did not want him there? Must have been once weekly. Had she even remotely been looking, she should have caught his scent lingering there at least once or twice, but no, little princess Breckin has no time for a guy like him, has only time for her queen and her kingdom, and oh, the pleasing of whomever it was as long as it was just - not - him.
He takes one deep breath at her declaration. For a split second debating if he should just give up - but no. This dam had been closed too long now to hold in the spring floods any longer, and it breaks.
He breaks. Almost cleanly so. But not with sadness. Not this time.
"Yeah? Good for you. Nice timing you have." he snorts - he sounds way too dryly to be serious, but then, now that he's started to talk in anger, he just cannot stop calling her out. "You never even think about it, do you? What you do, blinking your pretty eyes and long lashes about like it's nothing. To you it's nothing! You just dart around like a cute, little dotted fairy and expect everybody to be your friend, but only just a friend, 'cause nooo, butterfly Breckin doesn't want to let anybody in. Scared she breaks upon the first touch, because you did, didn't you? You would break, back then. But then, I guess Nerine suits you so damn well, and you really toughened up, now you're just as stone-cold as the Amazons were! Hurray for the true Leviathan! So yeah, I guess you'd best break all the bonds you made in your previous life so that the Nerinian little noblewoman that you are now, doesn't have to waste her time on anything that's not female any longer, so you just drop whatever you hold, on the spot, and you leave - it - there - to - die!" He nearly spits that word in her face. If she says anything or even moves, he doesn't hear or see, because he hardly takes the time to take in a second breath - it's only long enough to make him realize that he needs this to end. Now. "So you know what? It's fine! I'm done. I'm not going to do this any longer! It's been hard enough to try and get you out of my head without you coming back pretending it's all the same. Just remind me of you once again while I try to move on, will ya? Stab me once again, it's fun. So since you're so set on avoiding me, do a better job at it and leave me alone!" His voice thunders, probably not only in his own head. But he's done listening to her, he hardly has enough self-control as it is not to physically attack her. He turns around abruptly, and crashes through the same bushes he came in, and with just about the same speed.
Out, away, and no way he's going back.
"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
@[Breckin] aaand there we are.
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
Breckin makes no effort to move or interject, simply standing solemnly as if awaiting the final verdict. She needn't wait much longer though, because no sooner does the obvious dare to Leilan fall from her lips does he seize the opportunity. Pale ears rise to better grasp his heated words, though she probably didn't have to as the tone of his voice rises as he continues; and all the while she bears the same dark glare fixated on his. So far she's failed to contemplate just what his problem was, because everything he's said so far has been true and she didn't regret the choices she's made in his summary so far; they were just who she was. Yes, she moved about constantly--yes, she wanted everybody to be her friend--yes, she hadn't wanted to let anyone in when she'd been figuring her own self out--yes, she had been scared and still was scared--yes, Nerine suited her well--yes, she wasn't the same delicate broad when they first met--yes, she was a true Leviathan and fucking proud of it too.
But that was where her agreement with him ended. No, she hadn't intended to weaken their bond that day she left him--no, she actually did waste plenty of time on things that weren't female-- NO, she didn't let it drop and wither and DIE; it had grown so quickly from that day that it had consumed her and confused her.
Gods, he really was dense, for a guy claiming to spend so much time with girls, apparently he didn't stick around them long enough to know how complicated their thinking patterns were. It just wasn't as simple as what he was making it out to sound. Why didn't he just ask her why she'd stayed away?
He couldn't get me out of his head? Moving on? Before she could get a word in edge wise, her ears drop to her poll again. What the hell was he trying to say?
There's no chance for her to question him; he'd already turned away, demanded she leave him alone, like she was purposefully playing games with him for her own sick enjoyment. Gods he couldn't be more wrong. She'd tried to avoid him for his sake all along. But she'd oblige his wishes and stay away from him, perhaps its what they both needed, and it was what he really wanted. She'd made most of her choices based on what she thought he'd wanted all along anyway, this would be just the same.
"It's all because I love you, you fucking idiot," she says to the empty space where he had stood a minute ago, before turning back towards Nerine, towards home.
| 
