"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
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
There had been little reason for Aodhán to try and call Taiga his new home; when he’d woken up inside it, sure - there had even been a new friend. But when he’d asked about the leader of the place, it became apparent that said leader had just been overthrown and Taiga would be caught in politics.
But he had made a friend and it would be rude never to visit him.
So, the golden dragon flies over Loess, high up enough that his shadow would probably be mistaken for Castile’s, he hopes at least - and as he lands in the redwoods, a new shape becomes him. Or old times sake he might have chosen a rock, but that hadn’t been a very useful form as he’d discovered later in battle as well; in fact he chose to present as a horse, figuring that it would be safer, not upsetting, and simply the easiest way to talk to others in this land.
It’s been just under three years since their encounter, and Pteron has thought of the rock-turning-horse-turning-falcon more than a handful of times. Had he gone back to Icicle Island, Pteron wonders? Or had he gone somewhere else, somewhere warmer? Perhaps he’d even left Beqanna entirely; the tobiano has heard that happens from time to time – even his parents had done so, letting him choose to stay in Loess even with the dangers of the Plague.
Wherever Aodhan had gone, it was neither Loess nor Taiga. Both lands the winged Pteron often travels through, as much a solider of Loess as he was of Taiga, and he has not seen the spotted shifter. Or perhaps he had, and had not recognized him as a stone or a leaf or a wide-eyed wallaby. That idea amuses him, and he recalls it as he sees the golden shape ahead of him transform into one that he knows. Pteron had kept beneath the tree cover as the scaled beast circled his redwood home, and though he does head toward the place where the flying creature will be landing, he does so with enough delay to keep several sturdy trunks between himself and the dragon until it has completed its shift.
Once it has, and he is able to put a name to the dragon, Pteron approaches.
“Aodhan!” He says with a smile and a pleasant bob of his head in greeting. “I see you’ve mastered flying since we last met. And shifting into something more impressive than a rock or a bird, too.” He teases, as he often does, but there is only good humor in his warm olive eyes. “What else have you been up to since I saw you last?”
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
The male has barely taken his original form and colour, before Pteron already makes it. Not unlike the other time; perhaps the icy dun male simply was the most inquisitive horse in the redwoods? Just like Aodhán would be the most inquisitive horse in the Pampas - although honestly, that wasn’t hard with Noah being quite the introvert and Norma still not grown old enough. Or, just about.
At any rate, the white baroque quickly greets his friend, nodding. ”I’ve had a couple years practise.” he offers casually. Which is, actually, why he loathes himself for not visiting any time sooner. ”Impressive, you say?” he grins a bit at the compliment - for a moment debating if he would be more impressive if he was fully gold instead of just spotted, and the colour waves through his skin just once before settling on the mainly white appearance. Green eyes tingle with mild amusement, but settle when Pteron asks what he’s been doing.
”Ah, well I’ve moved to the Pampas, which was the only true herd available at the time.” One without too much politics involved anyway. ”Noah wasn’t very welcoming at the time though. Like, not really there? Only then I challenged her and she said I’m a loudmouth.” It’s clear the male isn’t fully over that yet. ”Ischia seemed fun but it’s more or less my go-to for a little vacation, I think. My children live there.” he gives a proud smile thinking of them. ”I mean, they’re little terrors of course, but Eva can handle them.”
finger trips across my cheek---------------- ----------------kiss me until i can't speak
The longer the delay in greeting visitors, the worse a guardian’s skill. Pteron has no interest in doing anything other than excelling in his tasks, even on afternoons like this when the patrols are someone else’s responsibility. He is not due to circle the edges of the forest in a familiar loop until later this evening, yet his olive eyes are always sharp, and the arrival of a dragon most often means an envoy for Loess.
For all Taiga’s growing reputation as a place of open borders, most everyone but the Loessians will wait near the edge of the forest. Perhaps they are over cautious, or perhaps the age old custom of waiting to be greeted at the edge of a land is a hard habit to break. Whatever the reason, the dragon’s shape had been familiar, if not his color, and Pteron is pleasantly surprised to have found Aodhan and not an envoy. The golden color had him worried for a moment; had Reia finally grown in to the shifting that runs so heavily in their family? But it is Aodhan, grinning and telling Pteron that he has had a few years to practice.
The stallion in front of him shimmers gold for a moment, the color a striking counterpoint to his emerald eyes, and settles back to his spotted white. Pteron is rather partial to pale on other horses, but Aodhan had made clear that he was not receptive to Pteron’s flirting. The olive-eyed stallion, unlike one of his southern neighbors, tolerates rejection well.
Aodhan tells him that he has moved to the Pampas, and the mention of his childhood home brightens Pteron’s expression considerably. What the other stallion has to say about Noah’s presence – or rather, absence – elicits a smile. “Noah does like her quiet,” he agrees, and it does not surprise him that she was possessive of her little home. She had allowed his parents and Loess to shelter there during the Plague, but for all her kindness it was clear that she was relieved when they finally left. A bustling kingdom-center was not what she wanted for her home, though that is all that Pteron remembers it as.
The mention of Ischia brings another smile, and there is a jolt of surprise at Aodhan’s mention of children. Not an unpleasant one, of course, and the surprise melts into a knowing grin at the mention of his children’s mother. “Eva, huh?” He says with an appreciative nod. “I’d visit Ischia just for the nereids, if you know what I mean.”
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
There’s not much to say on the topic of the Pampas; Pteron seems to recognize it, and his comment that Noah likes the quiet only confirms it. So perhaps it’s best to stray… until he remembers something. ”Strangest thing happened though. Some dead mare and another bunch of horses just waltzed in recently. I hope they didn’t scare Noah too much, but…” Well, it would be good if someone else knew about it too.
He shakes his head. Never mind. ”I’ve debated moving again - to Ischia, you know?” After all, what Pteron says about the nereids is very true. He grins when the other male comments about it, and makes a bit of a jab too. ”Careful of Aquaria though. She nearly ate me.”
@[Pteron] because it's true and pteron should be warned lmao
finger trips across my cheek---------------- ----------------kiss me until i can't speak
Pteron’s ears flick forward at the mention of ‘strangest thing’. He does like strange things – or rather, likes understanding them – and this is no exception. “A dead mare?” He repeats with a puzzled frown, trying to imagine what Aodhan might have seen. “How did you know? That she was, you know…dead?” Though Pteron’s relationship with death is unlikely to ever result in a face-to-face meeting, he knows the same is not true for all horses. Sometimes, death is inevitable, and there is no coming back. Except…Aodhan seems to be saying that there is and the tobiano stallion mulls it over for a moment.
Not for long, though.
Aodhan mentions moving to Ischia, and Pteron nods. The thought of life in paradise is certainly appealing. Warm beaches, delicious food, more pretty women than he could ever look at in a day. Pretty men too, though their numbers had been oddly low, now that he thinks about it. Aquaria has mentioned that the place is matrilineal, but it sounds as if his spotted friend already has an in. Even if they are not especially welcoming of men as residents, surely they would make an exception for one that a fellow nereid had found worthy enough to bear multiple children.
Multiple children. The thought of the man in front of him as a father is a strange one, at odds with the boys they both were at their last meeting. They’ve grown up though, Pteron must admit. A somehow uncomfortable thought, but one that is replaced quickly at the mention of Aquaria.
“She is a little feisty,” the dun stallion says with a fond chuckle, the image of Aquaria being riled enough to bite brings a grin to his face. “What is Eva like?” Pteron asks, having found a topic they seem to have in common.“I think Aquaria said they’re cousins. Or her niece? Some sort of family, anyway.”
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
Aodhán is quite amazed sometimes by the things that can happen in Beqanna, and not surprised that Pteron, who is about as curious as he, wants to know more. The spotted baroque grins a bit, and shakes his head. ”They smelled weird, so I asked.” he explains. It didn’t seem too weird of a thing to him, not at the time, but perhaps he should have. Honestly he wouldn’t put it past a fairy to want to revive someone sometimes.
The subject of Ischia finds the two friends at more common ground, and the white male grins sheepishly at the other for a time, though the feistiness of Aquaria wasn’t the problem. ”Ah no. She asked if I could be kelp. Apparently that’s her favourite food.” he tilts his head. ”Use that to whatever advantage you need.” he grins.
The other guy’s question isn’t very hard to answer, and Aodhán doesn’t think long of it. ”Eva’s the best. Sweet but she doesn’t let anyone push her too far, and the most beautiful of course.” His eyes playfully dance to Pteron’s face, as if daring him to say otherwise. ”She’s Adria’s adopted daughter. I think Aquaria is related to Adria? I’m not entirely sure, but they look similar, in a way.” He muses over it a bit. ”I bet they’re close.” he concludes, seeing as Aquaria already told Pteron about their relation.
Thinking of Ischia, the spotted male looks at his friend with a bit of a dangerous smile. ”We could always visit them and see.” After all, Pteron has wings. And even though Aodhán was too stupid to pick up on his friend’s little bit of flirting at the time, that doesn’t mean they can’t have a little adventure together.
finger trips across my cheek---------------- ----------------kiss me until i can't speak
Smelled weird. Seems like a good enough reason to ask, and from the sound of it the dead mare had been willing to answer. Not hiding that she is dead then, Pteron thinks. Would she be as willing to share the how of her return? There are things that the dun stallion might be able to do with that knowledge, after all. Perhaps Gale need not be locked in his well-flowered grave forever, not if there is a way to come back from the dead. That line of thought, even if hopeful, is not entirely pleasant, and he is grateful for Aodhan for carrying on despite the small frown that had crossed his face as he thought.
There is something sheepish in his companion’s grin, and the tale of kelp and Aquaria that he spins brings a much wider one to Pteron’s blue-grey mouth. “I’m sure that’ll come in handy,” he replies with a grin, “Though I’m glad she left enough of you to live and tell the tale.” It is not that he things the nereid would have actually tried, at least not if she thought it might harm Aodhan. The purple-eyed girl sounds rather like the aunt that Aodhan soon describes; Pteron is able to piece together their relationship from what Aodhan shares. He’d known that Adria was her sister, though he’s never seen the mare. He catches the claim that Eva is the most beautiful and gives only a rueful shake of his head in reply.
They might as well argue over which sunset is the most glorious, he thinks. For a moment, he recalls the way Aquaria had looked away from the sea, beneath the shadow of trees not far from where they stand now. Distance from the water (he assumes) had pulled away her nereid scales and ethereal beauty, and yet she held his eye with no effort all. He smiles at the memory, a soft, fond sort of smile, and nods agreeably at Aodhan’s suggestion.
The danger in the other’s grin is reflected in the daring that grows on Pteron’s, as he says: “Why don’t we make it a race?” It’s not a race he will win, Pteron knows, but the idea of a friendly competition sends a thrill down his spine, and he takes a few steps back, pawing the ground excitedly. “Last one there’s a rotten egg.!”
I’m not picky
