"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
Borders were of no consequence to Peregrine Jude. She flew through Beqanna as if the entire country was hers. In the time that she has wandered through here, she feels as if she has seen the world in its entirety. Today, she was observing the different territories. She might drop to the earth in one or the other, testing out the scents and sights of places she may want to call home.
As she flies through the mountains (a place called Hyaline, though she did not care for her knowledge of names and leaders was nonexistent). Jude drops low, wings dipping in and out of air pockets. She does not pause here, just hovers long enough to pick up the clean and friendly scent of its inhabitants. Instead, she flaps her lavender wings powerfully, lifting her ballerina body toward the sun. She glides leisurely north, sharp eyes set purposefully on a dense forest.
The colors are what drew her. Summer surrounds Beqanna’s people with warm hands, but this region’s landscape appears unmoved by the season. Jude admits to herself that the perpetual autumn is enticing, that she may want to spend more time there because she loved the shadows and rotting leaves.
Jude lands just outside the wooded land. The edge of the forest whispers to her, each gust of wind shuffling leaves that summon her further in. Jude, oh Peregrine Jude . . . She whips her head to its highest point, pale purple gaze slit to its most suspicious position. In, she thinks, I must go in. She is almost hypnotized.
Step by step, the pale girl enters the dense forest. The sunlight disappears and a cool, coarse breeze tangles her thick curls. Jude shakes out her mane, tossing little curlettes over her eyes. She peers around, moving forward as if her body were not her own, the fall forest’s noose pulled taught around her neck.
The summer days were shorter and shorter, the humid days were settling into cool nights. Autumn was upon him, and soon this green covered forest would be protected by red, orange and brown leaves. Fall was his favorite season, not only were the colors the most pleasing the cooler days were the perfect temperature for exploring.
Though he wishes for fall, he still finds himself inside the green covered kingom, the heat blazing down his back. Autumn would be here soon enough, but today was no different, he would need to press on an perhaps a border patrol would be perfect for the warm day. He sets out along the border, looking for any stagnant scents, any recent intruders; he does not pick up a scent but his head flicks at the sound of another with him. As he scans his surroundings he does not find an equine, but two squirrels tasseling with each other, he gives a snort to the rodents, watching as they chase one another up the trunk of a tree.
He gives a shrug of his shoulders and presses onward, he figured he would make his round without any intruders, but the scent of another runs through his nares. His head perks up as he scans the horizon, they have entered into Sylva, though they do not carry the scent of another kingdom. They must be a nomad, he will not be as harsh as if they belonged to a kingdom, though intruders will not be allowed.
He moves towards the scent of the stranger, slowly but surely another is in view, it was a winged mare, just barely a shade of pink. He tilts his head, a pleasing view he thinks to himself, his own queen pushed him away, perhaps this mare won't. He approaches the mare An intruder, is my kingdom all you thought it would be? his tone was harsh, his eyes glared a glance to the mare, awaiting a response.
Jude senses him before she sees him. So lost in the intoxicating feeling of her new-found land, she did not pay attention to her surroundings. It is not until the stallion is moments away that his scent wafts lazily into her nostrils. Only mildly startled (he smells as if the land caresses him at night - a full time resident), the pale girl calmly turns to face him. She waits until he is in full view to consider a reaction.
Intruder . . . Her mind lingers on the word, twists it around a thousand times - she likes the way he asserts himself. Intruder . . . A cheshire grin contorts her face. Jude cannot help it - why, he’s handsome as hell and practically reeks of dominance. His brooding brow and kingly atmosphere wrap cruel hands around her neck, drawing her closer to the power she so desperately wants to understand. The way he possessively labeled this territory his - obviously Jude is speaking with the one who wears a crown. She doesn’t want to offend, but certainly wants to make known her fascination with his kingdom.
Unfazed by the king’s glare, Jude meets his royal gaze with friendly defiance. Cordial, but not foolish - the pink girl relaxes her wings from her body just a bit, braces her muscles just in case physical escape is her only option.
“Why, it’s even better,” she purrs, southern accent low and lilting. Still unsure of what this king might do, Jude does not step closer, though she desires so awfully to climb inside his head it nearly blisters her.
“I am assuming you’re this lovely forest’s leader? My name is Peregrine Jude . . .” she trails off, peering at him almost suggestively, “but you can just call me Jude. I’m afraid I don’t quite know where I am - do you think you could tell me? Or maybe . . . help?” Not quite a lie but not quite the truth - she does not want him to know she is home-shopping.
He calls out the intruder for what she was, she did not fear him nor being caught, instead a smug smile grows upon her maw. As her gaze met his her maw changed into a pleasant smile, her wings adjusted until relaxing gently against her back. It's even better the words escape her mouth, an answer he did not expect, but one full of truth.
I am assuming you're this lovely forests leader? My name is Peregrine Jude. A mouthful of a name, but she notes to just call her Jude. She admits she is not sure where she is, asking if he could help her. A small chuckle escapes his maw, Well Jude, my name is Arthas and I am the king of Sylva, which you so happen to be exploring. He would not normally be this nice to a stranger, but she did not carry the scent of a kingdom, he could detect a few but none that were permanent, if anything she was exploring all the kingdoms.
Do you plan to leave my kingdom soon? He inquires, stepping closer to the mare. That would not be nice, leaving so early. His eye cocked, a grin wide on his lips Come, let me show you the river here. A small gesture that he finds himself offering more often than not, the river would provide a brief moment of relief for those traveling far distances. His maw lingered close to the mare, her scent filling his nare as he hovered about two inches from her pelt, though he finally pulls his head away to notion towards the river. Shall we? He says, his head moved to look at the river to the right, his body following suit.
Jude allows Arthas an approach, head high and sweet as he confirms he is the leader of the land they are in. She eyes him quietly, engulfing lavender eyes taking in each handsome gray dapple. He is beautiful, ruggedly built, sculpted from marble by the finest renaissance men. Jude purses her lips and destroys any inappropriate thoughts.
He asks if she will be leaving soon and for a moment the pink girl thinks she won’t be if he keeps speaking in that low rumble. He continues speaking - is he flirting with me? she thinks, pleased and curious about his seemingly suggestive nature.
Arthas hovers a couple inches from her skin, and Jude merely blinks and smirks at him in response. She even leans a little closer, daring him to graze her soft coat with his teeth. The king quickly ends their moment and sets off toward the river he had mentioned earlier. Jude follows silently for a moment, drinking in the man’s masculine scent. A million questions are swirling in her mind, but she holds her tongue and continues to slink along, traveling dangerously close to Arthas.
“So . . . King Arthas,” she begins playfully, peering up at the man with cheeky eyes, “are you often this welcoming to intruders?” Jude is content to let him respond in his own time, but the river is now in sight. She gasps softly and breaks into a fast trot. “This is simply wonderful,” she laughs, looking back at Arthas between her curly bangs. Jude finds herself ankle deep in the water in no time, swaying happily back and forth.
