"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
finger trips across my cheek---------------- ----------------kiss me until i can't speak
He feels Reia’s cheek against his neck and clamps down tightly on the desire to flinch. Pteron is willing to play the part of a loyal and devoted husband, but the façade is not a rock-solid one. The golden dragon at his side is as likely to bite as she is to kiss, but the stallion reminds himself that she will be on her best behavior here in public. She needs to keep up the front as much as he does. To distract himself, he looks out at the gathering crowd. Celina has arrived and has settled to Reia’s right side. She watches his wife with an expression that he recognizes well, and Pteron swallows a sigh.
Why can things never be simple?
Aten speaks up next, and Pteron knows that the champagne stallion will be the first hose he seeks out after the meeting. He has been waiting for this day for weeks now, and as he mother turns to leave, acknowledges the older stallion’s words with a somber nod. He does mean to lead them to continued glory, but his plans are not those of his mother. His olive green eyes find the buckskin Izora Lethia, whose disappoint seems focused entirely on Lepis. She doesn’t glance at him at all, and instead turns to leave after expressing her non-verbal disapproval. Lilliana is more enthusiastic, though she too turns to follow Lethy. The meeting is drawing to a close, it seems, and Celina and Lepis take their leave soon after.
Pteron’s blue mouth is half-open to speak when the shadow passes overhead. Without really thinking about it, he drives Reia to the cover of the trees that rise ever higher on the same uneven stone that created the ridge on which they’d been standing.
He turns back to face the creature that lands, and by then Owin is moving toward it. He seems unafraid, but Pteron is not certain that the giant bird is as harmless as Owin might. He catches up to the younger boy, who appears to be lecturing the shrieking bird. Pteron frowns, and keeps his wings at his sides despite their desire to flare and make himself appear larger to this potential threat. He doesn’t say anything, not without knowing who – what – the bird might be, but he’s clearly not thrilled at the mode of its arrival.
In between other horses, in addition to Aten himself, putting in their words, the stallion was grateful for Lethia's presence next to him. Even without her ability, something that felt great, the mare's presence calmed him immensely; he felt at peace with her around, knowing another that was just as grounded could help keep him under control.
Lilliana also had some words to say, but they were of support, something the golden stallion suspected. Though the mare could be very honest in her opinions, she was also very secretive, hidden, careful with those she decided to let in and get to know her better. Aten felt lucky that he seemed to be one of those so far, even if there were still some things the chestnut mare kept locked away within the crevices of her heart.
When the mare was finished, she took her leave, trailing after Lethia and back into the trees. The buckskin mare had decided to depart, for what reason, Aten did not know. He turned to look at Owin, Kalil, and Orion, finding that Orion had seemed to follow Lethia but Owin and Kalil had decided to stay. Though Aten did not wish for them to get caught up in such political matters yet, some of this may prove valuable for their futures and figuring out where they wanted their place to be in the world if they didn't go searching all over for it first.
Lepis and Celina took their leave as well, leaving Pteron to stand over those who had remained, his subjects, his residents. But before the younger stallion could utter a word, a large shadow passed over the head of every horse gathered, drawing all of their attention skyward.
Aten did not notice Pteron herd Reia into the tiny cluster of trees that dotted the small raised stone upon which the new rulers stood, his eyes focused in the direction of where the shadowed object flew above them. Not much time passed by before it changed it's course and seemed to be heading straight toward them, though Aten couldn't tell at first, given poor depth perception of his species and objects that were right in front of them.
A wind, a draft, brushed against him, and the stallion skittered back a few steps when the shadowed object crashed into the ground in front of some of the gathered horses, creating a noise like thunder as it rolled almost all the way across the clearing with momentum. Aten wasn't startled by much, but even he was surprised at this, rearing in shock when the object came crashing down and turning his hindquarters sideways in a prepared defensive manner.
Kalil stood near his brother and sire, but Owin did not seem fazed by what just happened. In fact, the colt, without hesitation, went to investigate the large creature that crash landed, Aten trailing after with Kalil if the need to protect his son rose. The colt then proceeded to speak to the creature, as if it understood him, and he in turn understood it.
Aten's eyes observed the large raptor, as he could now see it appeared to be a large bird of prey. It was a brilliant deep black with a band of red stretched across it's feathers and wings, it's eyes scouring the horses gathered around it as if trying to figure out what exactly was happening. It's beak opened a few times, as if it were trying to talk, and Aten tried to put the puzzle pieces together.
Aten felt Kalil, for the yearling was standing beside him, nudge his shoulder. He looked in his son's direction, seeing that Pteron had come to investigate as well, his posture stiff, muscles tense and ready to spring like a feline predator, but barely restrained like a thrashing wave against the rocky cliffs; the only thing standing between them and destroying the land.
Kalil leaned up to whisper to his sire, and his words both startled and made sense to Aten. How else would Owin know he could talk to the raptor? Sure, the colt was adventurous and could make trouble, but he doubted the young one would be naive enough to approach such a large bird. The raptor's size easily dwarfed the width of four redwoods placed in a line, since the height made all of them appear much smaller. It's wings also stretched high enough that Aten figured he would need two, or perhaps three, or himself standing on his shoulders to equal their size.
And there was something in it's eyes too...
The golden stallion sent out a call as he moved in Pteron's way, his head up a bit but not making disrespectful eye contact with the Comte, "There is no danger here Pteron. Leave this matter to me; I myself, as well as a friend, can handle it."
As if on cue, a much smaller shadow came down from the sky and landed on Kalil's back, the familiar multi-colored raptor a welcome and well-known sight among Taiga's redwoods. Turul had actually been following after the bird when he saw it gliding over Taiga's tree tops, and was not very far away when Aten called for him since despite it's speed, Turul was the fastest of his species and stayed right on it's tail.
Kalil, meanwhile, went up to the bird of prey on the ground, standing next to Owin before he spoke, bumping his brother with his shoulder, "Hey, be nice. I bet it's the first time she's done that. At least she didn't take anything but a tree out," he joked, giving his sister an apologetic look.
He then spoke to the raptor, hoping she could at least nod her head if not speak through that new beak, "Are you okay? You're not injured? Do you think you can get up at all?
Aten watched his children, looking at Turul and conversing with the falcon, "Would you be able to talk to her?"
The falcon shook his head, "I do not believe so. My bond with you is different than animals of similar species speaking with each other. In addition, she is not naturally of our kind; she can certainly try, but I know I wouldn't be able to talk to her in turn. Perhaps I'll understand her to a degree, but only if she can actually speak a bird's language in that form."
Well, that plan was shot. Aten stepped away from Pteron and closer to the large raptor, his eyes shifting over her form. It was a bit intimidating, seeing her like this, but he knew that, under that gorgeous plumage, was a familiar filly with a spark in her eye a spirit so much like Aten's younger self one would think she was his own.
Owin comes first. Even if she had thought the others might not know her, he would recognize her thoughts. Bird thoughts are strikingly like her horse thoughts, she thinks. What he tells her does not feel very important, though perhaps it is. There is a small place in her that is rapidly approaching adulthood and recognizes that a change in leardership is a serious thing, but for the most part, she simple doesn't care. Who leads the Taigan woods is a matter far beyond where her own interests lie. Still upside-down, she cocks her head slightly, one large, nearly-black eye focusing on the horse that she so easily dwarfs.
It is not Aten. Was it supposed to be? Her face feels strange and immobile beneath the sharp-tipped beak, but her pupil narrows and the feathers puff out, then fall flat and sleek once again She does not know - how does Owin know? But how does Owin know anything? He can dip in and out of others' thoughts as he pleases, and besides that is far more likely to have had such serious discussions. Poppy knew Aten as the Champion, but as the heir? It had never been spoken of around her - at least, not when she deigned to pay attention.
She is a selfish thing.
He tells her to pull herself together, and that elicits a sharp trill in the back of her throat. She snaps her beak in the air between them as Pteron, and then Aten with Kalil, draw nearer, and as they do, she releases her grip on the dirt and stone and the sapling trapped in the vicious curl of her claws, creating a cloud of dust and a second, much smaller, rumble and crash as rock and tree hit the ground before the tense stallions. Kalil asks her if she is hurt, but she does not think so, and begins the awkward and laborious work of righting herself. It is not a simple task, and not a dignified one, but Popinjay has never been much bothered by something as trivial as dignity. Of more concern, maybe, is that each time one red-striped wing strikes against the ground, it fans out toward the small crowd that has gathered, threatening to sweep them off their hooves. By the time she is up right, her feathers ruffled and scuffed and full of dirt, grass, and leaves, her breast heaves and she is panting heavily beneath the bemused frowns of Pteron and her family. Upright, it is much less easy to convince herself that they are laughing, not frowning.
She detests that seriousness and sneezes dust at them.
