"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
09-13-2016, 02:30 PM (This post was last modified: 09-13-2016, 02:33 PM by Wallace.)
Sure, she was young, but she was old enough to be on her own. As a little over a yearling, she could graze without requiring any mother's milk, and with a bold, independent personality she could easily manage her own affairs.
She did miss the beautiful mare who took her in when she lost everything, sweet Zaravich, though she hid it well. She could not afford to show weakness to any soul. So, when she entered this land, there would be no ties to hold her down, no emotional baggage. It was high time she focused on her future.
Her sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on the most influential person she found in the entirety of the field, based wholly on her own experiences and expectations of such a person.
"Excuse me," she greeted evenly, lacing her tone in far more politeness that it would normally have. "Do you perchance know of a territory where one might live freely?" She made certain her question implied she would not be ordered about, for she didn't respond well with boorish authority and would easily rid herself of such an impertinent person.
He’s been roaming around looking for horses, looking for ones that he knew, and ones that were lost and needed help. He is a guardian now, at least that is his understanding of it. Until Ea gives him new direction he will search for others, and offer his home to them. Walking through the field someone comes up behind him. He’s sulking again, pouting about how much of a dumb ass he can be, wishing that he could change, trying to change, and yet still falling flat on his face. Ischia is silent for now, he has patience, more patience thatn he had before the Fairies placed the seed inside his soul.
He turns looking to the young creature full of hope, and eager to begin life. Most seemed to look down cast and upset, yet this little one was standing up for herself, and actively searching for a place to stay. Nice to meet you, I’m Phaedrus, might I ask for your name? He chuckles at her forward attitude. Before answering her question. I’m from Ischia, we are an easy going group, “freedom” is a huge part of our lives. His tail switches, and his wings flutter as he smiles down at the child. Pausing for a second wondering if perchance he had seen her before.
09-13-2016, 09:54 PM (This post was last modified: 09-13-2016, 09:59 PM by Wallace.)
As the dark figure turned to face her, she was able to view him more clearly. Her gaze swallowed him in open appraisal, from his midnight rich color to the shimmering bolt blue of his hair. Then she took in his glorious wings, massive and somehow elegant. She felt a mild pang of envy before she buried it. A coy little smirk gently tilted her lips.
The man asked her name then, chuckling at her blunt manner of speaking. "Wallace," she supplied simply, her smile widening of its own accord in response to his deep laughter.
He was a handsome one, wasn't he? She suddenly thought it a shame she was too young to be considered pretty, though she doubted even age would solve that. Her grullo was truly quite dullo and she often wished she could be the glorious black her adopted mother Zara had worn so gracefully. Or possible any other color save for boring variants of grey-brown. She pursed her lips. Well, no matter. T'was not as if she could change it.
He spoke of his homeland then, and she listened with interest, her mind calculating. Hm, freedom was a large part of their lives, he'd claimed. She frowned. "Ischia, you say?" she asks with a minimal tilt to her head. She'd heard of a few places in passing, but she seemed to recall one very specific obstacle with that one.
Her eyes slid to his great wings, and her face fell. She replaced it swiftly as she analyzed how on earth she could possibly arrive there. An island, she'd heard it was. She had no wings, no magic. No way of travel save for her extraordinarily natural hooves. With an extra bit of ordinary, for good measure.
How to approach the topic without appearing so helpless...
She softly cleared her throat. "And how would one not so," her gaze fell on his beautifully feathered appendages again, "fortunate... go about arriving? It is an island, correct?"
