"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 is Major Tom to Ground Control. I'm stepping through the door and I'm floating in a most peculiar way. And the stars look very different today. For here am I sitting in a tin can. Far above the world, Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do.
Where oh where are the sistahs? It seems quiet evident to Bowie that all the girls are simply tied up in various things. He was certain that they spent too much time huddled up in little pow wows rather than enjoy the beauty of this land.
Purple and white stocking limbs move the stallion lightly over the grounds. He kept himself neatly tucked and preened as he felt it was important to give an well kept outward appearance. Two tones pools look over the sway and buckle of sod as he makes his way for where the ocean kissed the dark shore.
The sand is moist as always and Bowie sinks a bit when he is firmly standing in the darkness of the grains. A large clutch of air is taken and released as he sighed. Oh how he did miss having some company to chat with. Dear Naga had never shown and Hybris seemed to of rather not continued their conversation. That did prove to make things rather dull for the lovely purple stallion. Unabashed boredom slips across his pleasant features as he takes in the scenery of the coatline.
Boredom is a term Nayl is familiarizing herself with quite well lately.
It’s her only company, her current way of life with Nerine’s cliffside being so hushed with the exception of the lapping waves. The sisterhood is retreating into the shadows after having been so jubilant and so alive when the world initially crashed down around them. Their enthusiasm was infectious, but upon being granted refuge they have since withered. Often Nayl looks around to see no one, but there are voices still being softly carried on the wind every couple of weeks. She knows she cannot be alone, but she hasn’t had much contact with the others as of late.
With solitude closing in on her she is almost too eager for company when it arrives on the sandy shore. It’s a male, but she suppresses her dislike in order to simply have conversation. She yearns for it – needs it – and finds herself fighting a grin when she approaches him. ”Hello,” there is ice in her voice, but it begins to melt as their eyes meet, ”I’m Nayl. What brings you to Nerine?” She assumes it to be political. They haven’t yet devised a plan to visit the other lands and explore this new Beqanna. It won’t be long until they are found, their little coastal refuge discovered.
11-22-2016, 10:04 AM (This post was last modified: 11-22-2016, 10:16 AM by Bowie.)
This is Major Tom to Ground Control. I'm stepping through the door and I'm floating in a most peculiar way. And the stars look very different today. For here am I sitting in a tin can. Far above the world, Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do.
The granite and white mare that approaches makes a smile move across the purple lips. Bowie does not fear much nor should he. The stallion is a jubilant creature that simply refuses to allow the muck of a desolate life to consume him.
Glittering limbs have him stilled as the blessedly warm air careens against his skin in the most delightful caress. "Well hello there, love." His voice is a velvety purr that tip toes across his tongue. A smile nestles once against all cozy-wozy like upon his lips as he actively listens to the mare's words with keen interest.
"Nayl-", he begins as he analyzes her name with his sing-song voice, "-such a pretty name. Quite suiting, my dear." He offers no more than his casual smile. Bowie need not be one to threaten or force himself upon the women of Nerine. He harbors no alternate motives. Instead, the purple stallion respects and admires their grace, their charm, their beauty. He has always felt more comfortable with the fairer sex. "Well, sweet Nayl, I live here." A dash of a smile peppers his lips as he laughs in a few short tufts. "Naga gave me passage a year or so ago." His words end abruptly as he watches the other and how the sun glints off the white of her pelt. "And you? I would imagine by your question that you are a resident as well?" He asks politely while watching for any potential signs of aggression. After all, Bowie is rather sensitive and aware of his unusually inhabitance in the mare dominated land of Nerine.
Bowie.
holy sheet, I thought this reply was done already. I'm sorry I made you wait...I didn't realize it Bowie likes chatting with Nayl <3
Her thoughts falter when she hears his greeting. The honeyed tone of his voice is mostly unwelcome, but her face holds steady and never betrays her distaste. She has never been one for conversations with stallions, but the need for conversation is overwhelming. After having been alone for nearly months Nayl finds herself almost desperate for conversation. Their three leaders have been missing and their numbers are near extinct. They haven’t been flourishing as promised and their over-eager queen seems to have melted into the shadows. There is no one else here and so Nayl shrugs away his sweetened words and replies in a more flattened tone, her face beautifully fierce. ”Well, then welcome back home, I suppose.” A grim smile creases her statuesque expression as she suddenly looks past him toward the empty landscape, then back over her shoulder where still nothing stirs.
”I haven’t seen Naga in more than half a year,” she states plainly although her thoughts stray to disapproval and mistrust, ”but you are always welcome, nonetheless.” They assume her coldhearted, that she is a representative of the old ways, but she will prove them all wrong one at a time. Perhaps they will all trust in her words, in her visions. ”The Amazons have changed, perhaps for the better, by letting in stallions.” The truth behind this remains untested, but Nayl still is hopeful. Males have purpose and they have their uses. If she ascends to royalty, then she will see to that.
Underneath his eyes she finds herself searching for words, hungrily groping for conversation. She had never been extremely talkative, but desperation has been eating away at her. ”Yes,” she finally murmurs while nodding her head in the direction of the waves, ”I’ve always been a part of the sisterhood.” It’s the only life she has ever known, the only life she has ever wanted for herself. Generations of Amazons course in her veins; leaders, soldiers, diplomats. They’re with her every step along the way. They are the ones she can thank for her passion and fiery soul.
Turning her head, Nayl’s autumn eyes search his. ”You never told me your name,” she adds as a second-thought, almost forgetting before asking a question far deeper. ”What do you hope to see from Nerine? Do you have any visions for its success?”
Bowie likes chatting with Nayl <3