Fly and follow my dreams; Kildare

[Terhi]

Something very strange had happened.

She doesn’t understand what it was, but she knows it’s not entirely natural. Of course she also knows that Beqanna’s magic is so fickle that natural is a relative word; so she should not be surprised. Yet, of course, she was.

One moment she was somewhere, along the river she thinks after meeting her brother - yes. Now she is here, with hardly a memory at all.

Foggy.

She was foggy. And the moment she thinks it, she sublimates again: her golden, white-constellation-marked hide gone and replaced by a particularly strange, palomino-yellow mist.

Thankfully, this time she is able to stay awake, although the does anxiously wonder how to solidify again.

And so the mist drifts through the forest, consciously this time.

@[kildare] it’s super weird and I’m sorry. But here is a pretty girl’s starter for a sassy boy

[kildare]

Magic is such a fickle thing.

Kildare could fill his stomach full on that thought and still have more grass than he could chew. He had been born with this own magic - a birthright of his bloodline - and the rather average looking stallion had been a rather impressive airbender in Beyond. Where his other siblings had their wings, their telepathy, it was Kildare who could manipulate the wind. It's something that he has never quite recovered from. The absence of it has left a hole where it once was and maybe that is where the wanderlust comes in, the desire to fill that empty space with the sights and views and sounds of so many places.

It brings him back into the forest, common ground for many of the Beqanna kingdoms. One of his many journeys outside Loess, one of his many attempts to steady his mind as it unravels at the prospect of his impending parenthood.

His mind is there, on those thoughts about a child and what the hell he has to offer one? Hell, he has nothing to offer Mary and yet she always gives him that signature smirk. Mary, his friend, about to be the mother of his child. 

Hell.

His mind wanders, his body wanders, Kildare wanders without much thought to the outside world. All of them are inside his head. It doesn't seem to matter much where he goes. The light plays through the forest trees, revealing a rolling fog. That slows the black stallion down and he recollects himself as he resurfaces to the outside world. He slows until he stops and the stallion stares, realizing that isn't sunlight dancing on the mist.

The mist is gold. 

@[Terhi] have an equally weird reply

[Terhi]

The palomino mist frantically moves around in the forest, trying to gain some sort of footing where she goes. There is none, for the larger part of her journey; trees, grass, rocks and dirt all surround her and yet they’re all so similar that she cannot find herself grounded enough by them. She moves around trees as if her particles don’t care that they’re getting separated, while in reality she feels bad about the phasing.

She feels like a ghost. A panicky ghost.

It isn’t then, until the presence of another comes to her – something she senses, not sure how (perhaps it’s his body temperature being different from the trees) – it isn’t until then, that she lands. The mist drops to the ground, as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to do, and takes the shape of the young mare’s form. Still a mist, the palomino mist-horse moves her blind head around, trying to make sense of where she is, where she stands, where the other horse had gone. There is no talking when you’re made of mist, and it scares her not to be able to see or hear him, either. He’s just there – quite enough to be noticed, but not enough to help her take her own shape in full.

Ears lay flat on her head, though in the mist, the only thing notably indicating her insecurity is the way she stands, leaning backwards a little as if preparing to run, and trying to see and hear what she cannot.

@[kildare]