"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
How long has it been? There is no answer to the question - no thought that stirs in the recesses of the mountain lion’s mind, despite the fragments of another life that glimmer wistfully below the surface, struggling to be recognized. The question cannot be answered because there is no sense of time that lingers beneath dark and wild eyes, framed by black-lined eyelids and matching (terrifying) lips and shining fangs. The beast is large and his frame is bulky with muscle and the thickness of his winter’s coat, massive paws placed expertly so on the sharp incline of Hyaline’s mountain face. Claws dig into dirt and rock alike as the cougar pounces from one perch to the next, traveling into the lowlands that he has not explored since the stallion had changed into the cat. Snow riddles his back and shoulders, carefully collecting on the muted curves of each muscle of his body. His black-tipped ears flick absentmindedly, delicate flecks of white brushing away from his fur and dusting around him to settle on the cold ground below him.
There is a curious hum in the cougar’s throat as he feels the pinprick of another in the back of his mind, fighting for control. It happens more often than not, especially after the mountain lion’s runin with the leopard. The tawny cat mewls his displeasure, peeling back his lips to wrinkle the shortness of his muzzle, sandpaper tongue flicking sinisterly between shining teeth as his hackles begin to raise. His tail slashes warningly as the pinprick turns into a more forceful push, and as the cougar’s eyes flicker from wild black to cerulean, the beast continues to move down the mountainscape and into the valley where the snow is less and the prey is even more so.
Tension is clearly visible in the mountain lion’s descending pace, though there is no way to guess the inner turmoil that rattles the beast’s mind. There is a moment of lucidity - where the cat’s face lifts to the sunny sky and the brightness of the out-of-place blue irises stare greedily into the atmosphere - and a pause, but it is brief and is met with the rattling shriek of the lion’s protest.
Normally it is enough to send the color away from his eyes, but as the lion’s paws fall with a soft thud against frozen grassland, his irises do not sway.
The lion’s head throws itself backwards and then side to side, snarling and spitting as it fights to continue to remain in its current lifestyle. But there is new strength that is found in the now-cerulean gaze, and the thickness of deep gold is substituted with a pattern of ivory and honey, framed with a mane and tail of vivid blue and alabaster. Hooves replace claw, the snout elongates and teeth soften.
With a shuddering exhale, Svedka stumbles into Hyaline - clearly disheveled and disoriented, weak in the careful (unfamiliar?) steps he attempts to take forward.
Despite his weariness and the lapse in his memory, there is a breathless smile on the pale white of his lips.
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
She knows exactly how long it has been, at least, since she last saw him. A year, eight months, and two weeks to the date. Not that it helps her counting, but, she figures that it's nearly two years since he's disappeared from the mountain's valley - she knows that Solace misses her twin more than anything, knows that Nymf had had to wait too long to stick around, knows that he has a cerulean-coated daughter with clouds very similar to his, but wonders where she and her mother had moved to. She feels sad that they aren't there when he finally comes to; she liked Nymf, she would have been a great friend like the sister she hadn't seen for the five or six years that Ilma is now in Beqanna - and Fae was a beautiful and lovely filly.
And she can't help but think he's a fidget of imagination, or someone who looks like him that her mind twists into him, that when she blinks there will be someone else, or nobody at all. But as she does so, several times, and the vision doesn't change, her legs move before she realizes, and she steps of the ledge she had been standing on to graze, not bothering to jump but instead gliding down softly.
No rushing feathers announce her, it's the thud of landing in the soft spring grass that would be the first giveaway. Her scent of course; but it's the scent of Hyaline mixed with air and female horse; the smell of Ember is already fading, the girl was growing up quickly as she knew she would.
She turns to find him, but he's walked past during her descent, so she hurries after him. She can't help her breath catching as her amber eyes latch on to his familiar shape again; a bit roughed up, but there he is, the man she never told she loved, but she should have made the time to realize earlier. Still, she's a bit wary and even as her heart jumps, she approaches slowly, not in a trot or gallop, but with small steps as she folds the light-made wings on her back. It takes a while before she knows how to speak again. "Svedka?" A careful question, quiet, if it's not real then at least she wouldn't sound like a total idiot through all the kingdom.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Svedka] I seriously flipped a coin twice and it also twice landed on Ilma's side so here you are meeting her instead of a guardian Tähti who would definitely be aggressive to the mountain lion smelling horse but alas, you get the feels now -shrugs-
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Fresh spring sun is warm on the honey-gold of his back, warming the ivory patterns that (despite their murky color from months in the wilderness) splatter across his body. There is still the crispness of frost that coats the blades of dead grass that his clumsy hooves drag themselves over, but already he can see the springing up of bright green shoots that signal warmer, milder weather. The stallion snorts softly, still regaining the use of muscles that had grown dormant in his time away, shaking his head slightly as he attempts to wipe away the sheer sleepiness that begins to overcome him.
He has no memory of his time on the mountainside - only that he had suddenly fallen asleep amidst springtime, and now has awoken with springtime still on the world’s breath. There is no confusion that finds his face, for there is no known time lost for the Heart of Hyaline, except for that of a deep and obviously well needed rest. He’s groggy and bleary-eyed, though it is an expression he wears with a lazy grin, flaxen and blue tendrils of forelock spilling haphazardly across his face. A familiar sound of hooves solidly landing on the soft dirt causes the stallion to throw his head over his shoulder, half-expecting it to be the sound of his sister’s landfall that touched his ears, but still completely excited to see the alabaster woman as a casual smile creases on the pinkish-white of his mouth.
Svedka?
His name is a question on her lips and the stallion chuckles, bobbing his head slightly, nearly brushing his own shoulder with his muzzle. “Were you expecting someone else?” He replies with a wrinkle of his nose, feigning offense.
It is now when he fully turns to stand before her, nearly expectantly. The cerulean blue of his eyes slowly find their way to the yellowish folds of light that press tightly to her skin, causing him to lick his lips thoughtfully. Svedka then smiles warmly (almost mischievously) as his gaze flickers back to her own. “Traded your wings for the sun, yeah?” He comments, stretching his neck towards her with a tip of his chin upwards.
The wind shifts and the scent of her overwhelms him - sun and air and clear, crisp sky - and for a moment it is so, so soothing. Then there is something else (something that Svedka himself cannot put a name to) and his eyes sharpen slightly, the smile fading somewhat as an uncontrollable feeling of pure hunger rumbles through him. The strange feeling flutters in his stomach for a few moments longer, then vanishes all together. He purses his lips at the feeling of it, finding it curious, before his gaze softens and the easy, lazy grin finds his mouth again.
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
She'd looked at him like he's a ghost, but either he hasn't noticed or perhaps he doesn't want to. There's a joke following, and she tilts her head at him, pondering an answer to the question, an answer that is not an offended one, that isn't secretly angry that he just up and left without note, and barging back in like nothing ever happened. As if he doesn't look like he's been to the top of the mountain and just had decided to roll off it until he was back down. So, instead of answering immediately, she purses her lips a bit to withhold any sound, refusing to be upset and angry, but she can't be jolly happy either. Not just like that.
But he's already eyeing the new wings on her back - the ones she got about... a year and a half ago? It was definitely the fall, or maybe around first day of winter, before this last one. The fall in which he must have met Nymf but, after which he had seemingly disappeared. She hadn't seen him since summer, but - what's wrong with him? One minute he's the Svedka she knows, then there's something completely alien in his eyes, and then he's just smiling at her lazily like nothing happened.
And it leaves her subconsciously frightened, and she doesn't know what she should say or do. Would anything make it better? Surely not talking to him at all will make things worse, but all of a sudden she's unsure and can hardly move, just stare at him, then nod. "Some time ago now."A year. More. But something withholds her from saying how long exactly, telling him what he'd missed.
Her voice wasn't as confident as it should have been. Her eyes search for an indication that he has any consciousness at all about what just happened, but it seems that is not the case. She takes a short, deep breath. Perhaps there's a gentle way to nudge him, a subtle way to tell him she's not too happy he's just disappeared from the face of the earth for so long. "So where have you been?"
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Svedka]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
He notices the surprise on her face (as if she truly had been expecting someone else) and it causes his brow to furrow with confusion. Despite that fact, a lopsided smirk still graces the paleness of his lips, as if trying to smooth away her strange demeanor with the calmness that radiates from his body language. Maybe something has happened, his mind starts to think, like before? She is tense and unsure, shifting her weight and not at all like the Ilma he is so used to seeing. The stallion snorts softly with curiosity, stretching his neck forward to lightly stroke his muzzle against the stark white of her cheek, his own white face muddied and dark compared to the flawless complexion of her own.
Some time ago now.
At this, the milk-and-honey stallion brings his chin quickly to his chest, his own head now tilting to match the look of confusion that Ilma had just been wearing. His ears flick backward slightly in contemplation, his smile vanishing for a moment as his lips press together firmly in deep thought - wondering how he had missed that transformation and was only just now realizing her newly acquired wings. He snorts again - this time more sharply and a bit aggressively - and gently paws the fresh grass of spring with a single forehoof. Her eyes are searching his once again, this time she will not find the lazy smile that so naturally adorns his handsome face but a blank, pensive expression as his cerulean eyes become downcast, as if the earth beneath him somehow held the answer to her question.
So, where have you been?
Svedka looks at her incredulously, his bright gaze flickering upwards to her with shock. His ears press forward and then back again, his mouth champing absentmindedly. There is a soft chuckle but it is forced for the sake of calming himself, his blue-streaked tail slapping against his heels. “I daresay, Ilma, it seems like you’ve missed me.” He pauses, and though his voice is light and full of amusement, there is a shadow of doubt that falls across his face. “Next time you could join me for my midday nap, since I’ve worried you so.”
Yes, that must be the explanation for her strange line of questioning. She’s been searching for him the past few hours and couldn’t find him. “Is everything alright? Has something happened?” Now the man is concerned, wondering why she would seek him out so desperately today of all days.
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
Ilma’s eyes are full of surprise, at first. Then, her face hardens a bit as she clenches her jaw at his reactions. He seems to be thinking about the wing change a moment and then discard it. Maybe she should have told him that she’s had then for at least 15 months now. Sure, that he sometimes wandered away was fine; obviously he had wandered that one fall and met up with Nymf and she didn’t really mind about that - as long as he said goodbye and as long as whenever he did not do that, at least would say sorry about leaving so unexpectedly. Not... this. It still felt unreal that he was even here at all, but now that the idea settled... actually she just couldn’t comprehend his behaviour. When did he stop caring?
He says something entirely stupid then. Seems like you’ve missed me. Next time you could join me for my midday nap. When before, she might have actually considered it, now it just made er eyes flash furiously at him -
Is everything alright? Has something happened?
Ears fall flat towards her skull, if the change of look in her eyes hadn’t been apparent enough. ”Something? I don’t know where you took that nap of yours but it sure as hell wouldn’t have had to last so long! You weren’t here last spring to see your sister’s triplets,” - had he even noticed her pregnancy or had he not paid attention then? - ”and you missed the birth and childhood of your own daughter! I brought Nymf here to wait for you but I never thought you’d stay away over a year, I haven’t seen her in the last months either but I guess she’s just fed up with waiting, and rightly so. And you’re not even sorry! You just show up here all roughed up with that stupidly handsome grin of yours and just expect us to forget the fact that you disappeared from the face of the earth without a word, do you just expect me to forgive you for that if you don’t even show remorse? Forget it, Svedka, that’s just not how it works!” Snorting, breathing heavily; all emotion, the cropped-up worry, the fact that he disn’t seem to care how much he’d hurt Nymf, hurt Solace, hurt her - deeply so, more than she would have cared to admit in other circumstances. And she knows she’s near crying, but she’s a grown adult and she shouldn’t be crying over it, because she should still be angry, and so she just stares him down in fury. Almost wishing he’d just up and leave again because it was easier to miss him than to see him pretend all was well and good.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Svedka] whoa
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
There is something definitely amiss, and Svedka’s face shows the sudden concern that easily flickers across his face. The stallion takes a stride towards her, his neck stretching so that he might brush her cheek with a swift touch of his lips, but finds himself frozen in the middle of the gesture. Her reaction is vicious and (to him) unreasonable; confusion finds each edge of his handsome face, eyes wide and his jaw slackening. He does not shuffle backwards from her, however, but instead continues to close the gap between them like he had intended to do previously, though with different intentions and emotions in each of his movements.
Her voice scalds him like hot water with each accusation she throws at him, his eyes closing each time another fact is laid before him so evidently. Questions begin to tumble through his mind but he remains silent as she breathes heavily, spouting raw emotion and anger into the air. As each terrible phrase comes to an end he has attempted to embrace her, not only to try to comfort her but to comfort himself - to pull her beneath the strong curve of his neck (that smells strictly of the mountain and his feral-life) and to breathe deeply despite the insane amount of worry and fear that now plagues his mind.
Where have I been?
He has a daughter? Solace had the triplets?
Svedka swallows hard, and whether Ilma has allowed him to embrace her or not, he takes a step back to blink slowly into her eyes, his brow furrowed. “Ilma,” he begins, but he pauses - hesitates - because telling her the truth seems like a cop-out, especially when he doesn’t even know what the truth is. “I don’t...I don’t know what’s happened...” His chest is pounding and for the first time in probably all of his life, worry and doubt clouds the edges of his sky-blue eyes. His heart races, pulsating faster and faster with each intake of breath, and he feels something scratching beneath the surface, begging to be released; something that was just waiting for a sign of weakness, an opportunity to take hold of him once again.
The stallion tosses his head, a mixture of cerulean and ivory cascading over his face with the savage motion. He turns to look at Ilma again, but his familiar blue eyes have disappeared and a pupil-less black stares back at her - empty, fearsome and wild. “Ilma, I - ” his voice is quaking with terror, finding himself forgetting her name even as it spills off of his tongue. “What’s happened to me - ”
But he cannot finish the sentence because suddenly he remembers nothing, and the lion has taken his place.
svedka
@[Ilma] he's shifted, but you have the free reign to say if ilma stays or tries to run away
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The alabaster mare has given it everything - but after such an outburst, during such an outburst, there is no room or energy left to deny him. His smell is a bit off - feral, as if he’s been living in a mountain lion’s cave - but it’s still him and not unlike the last time she’s been so emotional in front of him (about 2 years earlier) she just falls silent, empty, and lets him hug because there is a sense of normalcy in it.
But he pulls away, distressed over her words and she returns to reality as well. He just up and left without explanation, impregnated a mare and hadn’t come back to see how she was doing. Her heart had weeped for her newfound friend, and when one day she could not find the two any more she told herself that Nymf was right. There was no point waiting for him any longer - she would be here, yes, but not so much waiting any longer, instead focussing on her kingdom duties. But her mind would keep wandering, of course. If something had happened to him maybe.
But now, it’s like he’s hardly even there any more. She’s starting to suspect maybe he did indeed forget - which was weird - as if he’d hit his head too hard. He seems to be scared of her anger with him, though she doesn’t find herself capable of softening her gaze just yet, even at the head toss, but she frowns when her name sounds so entirely wrong on his lips. Like he doesn’t really know the meaning of the sound.
She takes a few steps backwards at the moves he makes. The black that takes over his eyes - it’s that alien thing - and the change that happens suddenly, right under her nose, and for a moment she just stares.
As always, her adrenalin-kicked first response is to freeze; instead of fight or flight. She can’t even find her voice. This had been what made it so easy for Arithmetic to just take her; and again she’s waiting for a predator to make the first move. But this time at least, her conscious mind is trying to shake her awake - these four steps backwards are not enough distance; but running would mean turning her back and the lion would surely kill her. But that lion is Svedka and if she calls for help someone might kill him, instead.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Svedka] so she basically put some distance (like, a few feet) between them but I suppose if the lion leaps forward that distance is closed easily. But it should give her that millisecond to lift her hooves
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
