"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
So much has happened since he left. So much has changed. And yet, the greediness of the land seeping her hand into the souls of the living has not changed. He remembered the last time this had happened. He remembered when the land had coughed up rulers that bled pure magic and was born of the souls and ashes of all the previous rulers of the kingdoms, in an attempt to rein in what she deemed as the trait “selfishness” of her inhabitants. They had taken the kingdoms, and projected a new regime of power and unruliness; nobody had been happy then, either. But for the God-Mother to stretch forth her fingers to retrieve that which was apparently once hers, it had gone to a whole other dark place. She had taken their very identities. To be fair, this allowed him to wake up from a slumber that had been a hundred years in the making, but it had also taken from him what had made him, ever since birth. He was disgruntled and unhappy with his current set of circumstances, but he figured that he probably was not the only one. And so he moved on, watching the sadness and anger as he went, looking around for someone he recognized—anyone who had been from yesteryear. He perused the fields, the meadows, and the forests, before coming back round to the field once more. He stretched out his neck, reached down, and began to take in his first meal in so. SO long. Ashley ate ravenously, hoping that there was enough vegetation in this field to contain him, silently keeping aware of his surrounds as best he could. He doubted he would be alone for long.
There was little to do any longer. Nothing to pass the time as he once had. Once, he had spent weeks entwined with his mistress; mingling his atoms with hers. He had only risen from such rapture because she had needed him to. But now she was no longer - stolen from him and her other servants by the so-called benevolent fairy. He has never felt so utterly alone. Or so completely lost for something to do.
So he wanders. There is very little land left that the horses of Beqanna are able to inhabit, so it takes very little time to trek from meadow to field. They seem like they always have, and yet the knowledge that there is nothing beyond… it feels like a cage. So he must keep moving, keep active. He must at least feel like he has something to do. He will talk to anyone willing to listen. He will explore every inch of area available. But he mustn’t stay silent, musn’t stop trying to make some sense or order out of this chaos.
He spots the buckskin stallion from across the field and though he does not recognize him, he seems familiar. Though there is no magic to reverberate around him any longer, the age hidden in his eyes and in his mannerisms is enough to tell the black monster that he is a force to be reckoned with. He wonders if the stallion will know any more about this confusion, and so he makes his way towards him.
Upon reaching the light-hued male he nods and then throws his head up to move the cascade of tangled threads from his vision. His dark eyes scan him, hopeful. “I’m Gunsynd.” He says in the form of a greeting. “Have you just returned? You seem as though you have seen this all before.” His voice is soft and deep, but raspy with anxiety. His ears wait patiently atop his heavy head, hoping against hope that the stallion can offer some sort of guidance.
I M J U S T A S U C K E R F O R P A I N
Not trying to step on toes, just want to post him. Also, I’m apparently stalking you spink
Gunsynd is currently pretending to be someone else! He is now 15hh, hybrid, flea-bitten grey with clear blue eyes and goes by the name of Ginkgo. He will not have use of his traits while he is in this form. Please play as if he is simply the other persona unless your character has some sort of mind-reading. Thanks! <3
Ashley did not waste time in acknowledging the other one. He was entirely aware that he had all the time in the world—for the land had given him back his sense of immortality; at least for the time being—and that this was not a time to be discriminatory over one’s company. Glancing over the black monster, as the label was so aptly described, his amber eyes lit with the sense that this was one who had known power in his life—and too had been stripped of it.
The other did not waste time with pleasantries. What use was there, when there were so many other things at hand to address? Ashley could respect that in this one. He nodded before speaking.“I’m Ashley,” he says, vaguely aware of the crackling around him. There was still magic in this land; however it was not his for the taking—yet. “I have been here an age before, when things like this have happened. Unfortunately, it has never been quite this bad.”. He stretched out his neck, and cracked his shoulders, the bones cracking where one there should have been wings. “The land is angry. The all-mother has seen fit to depose us of our gifts, it seems. I was stuck in a pillar of stone and dragged away to the beach after the fall of the last war. When the magic faded, it seems I was awoken to a world stuck in some sort of sick time-warp.”
He snorted, and looked around. The mountain ahead was leering in front of him, almost beckoning him to make the journey…. To see if he would dare to deem himself worthy of what would meet him at the top. He was not as his mother was, or any other of his line. Ashley had always held onto the wisdom and guidance of another… and the marked madness of an orange pumpkin king with hallowed out eyes. Though he had respected his mentor with all the knowledge a king can possess, there was no denying that Covet had been mad. And so Ashley had put aside his fears and learned to live by the faith of his own wisdom—if he could not see to ascertain it for himself, it did not exist. Such the attitude for a magician, after all; cheap conjurer of tricks that he was.
“Gunsynd, you said? What land did you come from, and where are you going next? It seems that the all-mother bids to play a game with us. A quest of trials, so to speak. For though this has happened before, it has never been such that the land stays angry with us forever. You will be blessed again—if the land deems you worthy.”
He did not miss his abilities as much as others. His powers were directly linked with his passions, which with the loss of the greater of the two the other had quieted as well. Without the Valley, he had no desire to use his abilities (yes, he had used them to impress the ladies as well, but without his mistress his lusts were quelled for now). Perhaps if he had them now he could use them to assist him in regaining his beloved, but that was not certain. So he does not lament their passing as vehemently as he does the magician’s loss. Perhaps if Eight had retained his power, they would not be homeless now.
But that was not what the fairy wanted. She wanted them to suffer. She wanted them to wander about and contemplate their misery.
The stallion before him speaks and confirms the beast’s assumptions. Gunsynd nods. He, too, had seen things like this on a much smaller scale. But this utter devastation was unheard of. Unthinkable. Ashely continues, speaking of a war and a prison of stone. The male’s interest is piqued by this - what could merit such a punishment? Whatever it had been, the stallion has some respect for anyone who could endure such a fate.
He notes Ashley’s condescending glance at the mountain that almost mirrors those he has been shooting at the geological wonder lately. He knows it is the seat of the fairy’s power where she sits like a jealous god lording over them. A god that would never have his devotion. “We seem to be mere playthings, subject to the whims of a inattentive child.” He adds half-heartedly.
And then the male inquires about his home and that now-familiar pang of nausea stirs in his gut. His lover, how he longed for her. The pain was obvious in his eyes. “The Valley will forever be my home, even if I must rebuild her from the dust of this destruction.” He was a dedicated subject, it could never be argued. But the once-magician continues and his words take on an air of reassurance. Despite himself, he feels some anxiety fall off of his body because of it. “I can only hope that you are right. But what of you? Where did you call home before you were entombed?”
I M J U S T A S U C K E R F O R P A I N
Gunsynd is currently pretending to be someone else! He is now 15hh, hybrid, flea-bitten grey with clear blue eyes and goes by the name of Ginkgo. He will not have use of his traits while he is in this form. Please play as if he is simply the other persona unless your character has some sort of mind-reading. Thanks! <3
09-06-2016, 04:55 AM (This post was last modified: 09-06-2016, 04:56 AM by Ashley.)
Gunsynd’s words did not fall on deaf ears, but Ashley found that he was too preoccupied with his thoughts to answer the black right away. His thoughts settled instead on his past, wondering how much time had passed and how relevant he really would be to the dawning of this new—and entirely unexpected—age. The former King, and the pseudo heir of Covet and Craft, had had his own battle with madness and had found himself falling down due to his own pride. Back when Moselle had been there… always lingering, reminding him of his sins and he reminding her of her passions—the exact reason why she had ended up becoming dispatched well before her time. Those times stung the back of his eyes and he visibly lurched, remembering Ryatah and Charlemagne, their fight, and the eventual casting of his body into limestone.
Such things that occur when the use of magic is unlimited to achieve one’s goals—or the goals of many. Ashley swished his ginger ginger-tinged tail, and took a step back, his muscles flexing with the hard memories as the images flashed across his eyes, blinding him for a moment to anything else before him. Though, he had enough wisdom about him to still be aware of his surroundings, and return to his conversation before Gunsynd would consider the silence to be rude.
“I was once King of the Forbidden Dale. Many years ago. Back when your Valley was ruled by Dog Tag. He was a great friend of mine. As to my entombment, as you put it… It was my daughter, Charlemagne, who did the deed. I hold no alliances to my family now.”
These times called for great introspection. The fairies wanted them to take a good look at their lives, their actions, their foundations and come to some sort of revelation that they were nothing without her. He had seen it in so many eyes - that soul-searching sadness. Lucky for him, he had no soul to search. He had only one objective, and he was dead set on fighting for it.
But this light skinned male before him seems lost in those same thoughts that have plagued so many in recent days. Gunsynd does not interrupt his thoughts, rather he watches him closely as he does love to observe the actions of others. It is like some never-ending play put on for his amusement. But he has something akin to respect for this ancient being, so his usual detached interest is tinted by whatever that emotion might be.
He had almost given up on waiting, almost cleared his throat or stomped a hoof, but as if realizing his time to reminisce was coming to a close the male speaks. Surprised, the black beast’s ears perk and listens attentively. Names were not his strong suite as he was much too self-absorbed to be bothered to remember such trivial things. But the important thing was that Ashley had a good opinion of one of his Valley’s rulers (maybe Gunsynd had known him, maybe not).
Hearing of his lover’s past makes his blackened heart feel just a little bit lighter. She lived, at least in memory (for now). The stallion’s following explanation is almost lost on him, but he managed to clear his own thoughts in time to hear of Ashely’s unique history. A heavy eyebrow is raised beneath his tangled locks. Family held no meaning to the monster. He sired foals, they grew up, sired foals of their own. So it goes. But he had never thought of any of them as family. The Valley was the only “family” he needed. So the notions of being double crossed, betrayed, or even cutting ties were foreign to him. Regardless, he nods stiffly. “I make it a point to have as little contact with my children as possible.” He says with a grim smile. “Regardless, you are free now. What will you do with your freedom?”
I M J U S T A S U C K E R F O R P A I N
@[Ashley]
Sorry it took so long. We can keep this thread up, or start fresh in the meadow or whatever
Gunsynd is currently pretending to be someone else! He is now 15hh, hybrid, flea-bitten grey with clear blue eyes and goes by the name of Ginkgo. He will not have use of his traits while he is in this form. Please play as if he is simply the other persona unless your character has some sort of mind-reading. Thanks! <3
