"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
This corner of the Forest, for once, is dark and quiet. It is a welcome respite from the almost constant babble and chatter that threatens to overwhelm the common lands. He knows, too, that this small patch of grass will not be able to sustain them all. They must figure out the new lands, or starve. This weighs heavily on his mind, with his family to feed and look after. He wonders whether Offspring has any kind of action plan yet, and whether he can help.
If the black King needed him, then he would ask, and otherwise, the spotted stallion looks for Maribel. Looks, mostly, anyway, but for now he needs to take a moment to gather his thoughts together, enjoy the quiet. It has been a long long day, and the sun is only finally beginning to set. He wonders how many more cold, lonely nights he will have to endure before he finds her again. It wouldn’t be quite so bad without her, he decides.
fuck all your dreams, they’re not all they seem
ooc: you can say he was stumbled on as he was leaving his quiet zone haha if she would feel guilty for disturbing him
Hestia looks from one horse to another looking for the familiarity of those she calls beloved. Where is Gallows? Fennick? Kryten? Demian? How much time has passed since her death? She worries that it has been too much time. But she knows finding them isn’t impossible, she had watched as Pollock aged, he was not immune to time, not as she was anyways. She must be immune to death as well, at least that is the best explanation she can think of. She had tried to die, she had died, she had lived as a ghost. Yet in all of this, she still finds herself amongst the living, alive and well, supple with the new skin, contours curving and dipping in the silk shine of perfect beauty. The beauty her virgin self had held for more than 80 years. It had only begun to rot after that, after her son was born. The skin lost its luster, joints ached and clicked with each movement, her head grew heavy to carry, her hips began to sink into themselves.
She found herself ugly, and lacking, she hated it, hated her aging self. She wanted her immortality back, and yet, watching Fennick…. Her eyes almost spill with tears at the thought of her dear Fennick, her dear lovely Fennick. The one soul who never hated her faults, the one horse who believed in the best of her, the one creature that saw who she was and still whispered gently in her ear. She was happy to throw immortality away for this, for these brief beautiful moments of real love, tangible and worthy of everything she could give. And she did give, she gave everything, she threw everything that she had been trained for out the window. She met Fennick, and from then on she was nothing to the world, but he was everything to her.
Her heart breaks all over again, she feels a pain worse than death just thinking of him, she needs to find him, she needs to feel him wrap himself around her, she needs to know that their children are okay. She needs to find her Amazon sisters, her mother, her siblings, she needs to know what happened in her time of absence. The amazon flower is gone, and in its place is a crippling pain. She feels so lost, so desolate, she survives. She always survives, and yet since Fennick… without him she does not want to survive. She finds no reason to survive, so she turns her head towards the forest, maybe some wild animal would come across her and take her sending to the real afterlife, a true death worthy of a amazon sister.
Just as she does so she finds a horse one that she finds irritatingly enough, in her way. She almost growls out something to him but thinks better of it. Would you happen to know the way to the Amazons? The black mare is blunt, possibly to blunt for this man. That matters little though, this is not the day for long social calls, and wasted breath. She needed to find someone familiar, or at least acquainted with her.
@[Romek]
Oh, he knew loss well enough. He had lived enough for at least two horses by now, and you don’t live that long and not see your friends wither and fall from amongst you. Of course, Romek uses the term friends loosely, as he had never been particularly popular before, back in the Deserts, in his long-legged short-hearted days, spent moping in dunes, mostly.
He is relaxing quite contently when a mare almost walks into him. He glances to her, takes in her aging appearance, her green eyes, her black fur, but says nothing until she questions him – on the Amazons. He knew the Jungle well enough, had almost stolen one of its members once, but had chosen to return her.
”The Amazons are gone.” he says equally bluntly, for tact is not something that he has ever really had to deal with, and for good reason. But on the plus side – at least what you saw is what you got with the spotted stallion. What he lacks for in politeness and courtesy he makes up for in honesty, and the truth. ”And so is the rest of Beqanna.”
He tilts his head. ”Where have you been? It’s been a hard change to miss.” of course there is always the chance she has not been in Beqanna – but, for some reason, the tiger man finds himself curious as to why exactly she had not been there. Why – he could not possibly say.
