"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
08-01-2019, 11:48 PM (This post was last modified: 08-01-2019, 11:48 PM by Thales.)
His prison is his own. Trapped to the confines of his own mind, banging on walls until he bruises, scrapping at concrete floors until skin bleeds red. Screams. Voice grows hoarse. He quiets. Reaching out through tiny bars in the window, but no one reaches back. Alone. He is left to pace between the four walls that feel smaller than they did yesterday, why do they feel smaller? And then he is screaming again, staring at those damn walls, those same, damn four walls he has been staring at for years. Unmovable. Break them down, he wants to break them down. He is so tired of watching that idiot take control, the deviant that locked him away in this unbreakable fortress. Why cant anyone hear him? Answer me, he screams. Answer me!
No one comes.
They never come.
His mind is utterly absorbed in the pebble he kicks so lackadaisically with his hoof following the rolling stone in a manner entirely predatory, watching the rock roll and tumble- his desire to leap upon it simply because. His wings ruffle on his back. It is then he accidentally kicks it into the lack, resulting in an entire lack of interest as he allows his gaze to look upwards, with no idea where he is. He does not understand time, not truly, has never learned to read the sun or understand beyond day and night. He does not know, truly, how long it has been since that fateful day, knows only that it has been....long and as such it means little to him that he has been wandering only to end up right back where he had started as a colt.
Thales is a shell of his former self. He relies on instinct alone to live his life, his mental capacity holding barely beyond that of a newborn, if it were not for the voice in his head, that former self, that fights s desperately for its own control, watching the beast that is Thales stumble about in his lanky body. Very nearly incapable in this own body of his. He knows to eat, to breath, to drink, he can even fly when it suits him.
His mind struggles so very much to understand, his fractured thoughts are unable to reach past the point of mere fleeting moments, no real hold onto them before they float in the abyss. Whatever tentative hold still remains to connect him to other people continues to drift still further and further away, that single piece of his humanity lost as he has spent years and years searching for ones he cannot even remember anymore. The obsessive nature of his mind however, will not allow him to rest, at least- not for long. His mind clings with dangerous determination to whatever fractured memories of his companion remain, the dishevelled grullo looks scruffy and underfed. He has clearly not known companionship in some time.
Greens eyes look around the area, out towards the water, the pebble clearly forgotten in the sparse time that has passed. He notices then how the water moves slightly closer to him, rippling in the light breeze. He moves back ungracefully, his dislike for the liquid evident in that moment. “Stay…away,” comes that garbled speech from long forgotten use. “No,” it is clearly a command. And he expects to be obeyed.
i'm a geyser, feel it bubbling from below hear it call, hear it call, hear it call to me, constantly
Like a moth to a flame, Brunhilde cannot resist the intoxicating desire to feel the instantaneous draw she felt when she first discovered her pull to women. She finds herself slipping from the boulders of Loess and into the arms of the Common Lands more and more often. Most times, she is ill-suited for whatever basic face she comes upon, but there are those few joyous encounters that leave her breathless and wanting.
Her most recent trip out of Loess has spanned for days. Desperation began to build in her chest the first day she did not find someone worth anything. Now, as she sits irritably upon her third day, she is practically ravenous.
Brunhilde will take the attention of a god-forsaken foal, if that is what she has to do.
She hums to herself, half-mad and terribly restless. The copse of trees she has been sleeping in fade into less tightly woven trees, which eventually spread into the Meadow and the Field. The little flame’s starving golden eyes glow sharply with that insatiable hunger. What stranger can she pick out to pluck at her wild soul? Not just any will do, but her bitter heart finds she must settle.
The crazed meanderings of a stallion catch her eye, and while her interest in the insane is fickle at best, she finds that a wandering eye from any creature will do the trick.
“What did the water do to you?” she questions as she approaches, metaphorical eyebrow cocked. “And the pebble . . . ?” She smiles, if a bit hesitantly, in an attempt to draw him from the liquid. “Maybe I can help?”
and hear the harmony only when it's harming me it's not real, it's not real, it's not real enough
08-14-2019, 10:11 PM (This post was last modified: 08-14-2019, 10:16 PM by Thales.)
Thales hardly expects anyone to join him. Far from the type to sit around waiting, he was content in his loneliness, his amble wanderings. Disregarding the social interactions most of his kind needs. He has been by himself for far too long. It is evident. There are hoof steps though that make their presence known to that sensitive equine hearing he possesses. “Silly…girl,” he says, that rough speech, make gravely by his baritone voice. But, regardless, her questions cause his head to turn towards her with a mild sort of innocence. That anyone may have had some sort of attachment to the pebble or the water had clearly not occurred to the grullo.
The sight before him then readily captures his attention. “Oooh, pretty.” He moves suddenly towards her and brings that muzzle towards her, wishing to feel that bright skin beneath his touch. He is not a gentle creature, his often volatile, violent nature allowing little to no emotion to bleed into his day to day life. It is strange then to see him reach out with nothing short of gentle touches. He lets his lips innocently trace lines upon her. Oblivious to the fact that she may not appreciate any of this touching. He likes the way her skin feels soft beneath his touch, this bright skin he already seems to utterly adore. He is entirely aware that she is female and he male, (though he lacks the wherewithal to notice how inappropriate he is being), his mind having now formed an obsessive need to hang onto her though why cannot be said, clearly finding fascination in her colorful coat and pretty companions around her.
Thales pulls back then, shakes dark hair from those untamed green eyes and offers no more than a boyish grin. It is so rare to see Thales truly gentle, instead he was so often irritable, volatile, if not utterly violent, the harshness of his existence resulting in a battle worn, disagreeable creature, who was hardly ever so relaxed, most of his life being made of relentless moving and searching, though he hardly knows for what. “I do not like water,” he says, his speech unencumbered with that statement, letting her know just how much he means such a thing. Thales has not liked water since as long as he can remember, though, that hardly says much. The silver boy hardly capable of thinking and mulling over the past, he typically seemed to be only concerned with the presence. But that fear, that instinctive fear that the winged stallion felt was clearly something that held strong and fast within him, he just could not tell you where it lies. He looks at her once more with those green eyes of his, entirely enraptured with the pretty thing he has found. “I think…I will…keep you.” He has never had a strong suit for manners.
“I want…to play…now,” he says, those garbled words from lack of use for so long. his words, so innocent sounding holding something far darker in their intent. He never was...normal, his innocence within the world hiding something so very, very dangerous though it remains contained for now. “Play…with me…pretty.”
Insanity evidently, is his most obvious attribute. One he displays not with pride, but due to his inability to hide it. His head tilts in her direction in an almost puppy dog fashion as his wings ruffle against his side. The fact that she very well could and very well may say no, hardly occurs to him. After all, Thales wanted to play, so she would play.
i'm a geyser, feel it bubbling from below hear it call, hear it call, hear it call to me, constantly
I’ll fucking kill him, is Brunhilde’s immediate thought. Her gemstone eyes go wild, not with fear but with confusion and irritation. What desire she had for attention quickly dissipates in the face of madness. She has never met a man like this before, overwhelming and exhausting and brutish. Litotes has always walked gender’s line with hardly a thought for the evil most men carry: a recklessness he may have instilled in his daughters; still, she thinks she may meet a monster of a man if he is ever to see this moment.
That cruel justice of her father is what gives her the option to fight back.
Brun rears her head back in disbelief, eyes suddenly blazing. “You can not like water all you --” Her protest is interrupted, and she bares her teeth. I have no time for mad men such as this, she thinks, even as he encroaches. She has no time for men at all, really -- except for when she needs something (or someone).
“I am not your play-thing, boy,” she snarls. Her hooves squelch in the thick mud beneath her when she steps back. Fire lights up her back and singes the butterflies that flutter desperately around her. She is a thing of fury, one to be feared and lusted after -- the devil’s own maiden. This she shows the stallion with her searing topaz eyes and bristling hair: she only answers to hell itself, Khal her very own Cerberus.
A Cerberus that will be at her side at any moment, if she really wants him to.
“You will back up if you know what is good for you.”
and hear the harmony only when it's harming me it's not real, it's not real, it's not real enough
