"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
Everything had been perfect. Life had been perfect.
It had been just the two of them - Eri and mommy - but the two of them had been all she’d needed. They’d spent their days exploring, and their nights snuggled up to each other’s sides. Everything had been wonderful.
Until the morning she’d woken up, and had been gone. She’d looked for her, had searched and searched until she’d collapsed from exhaustion. And she hadn’t been able to find a single sign.
So she’d continued to wander, trying to seek out even the slightest trace of her mommy’s scent. And wandered … and wandered … until she’d come across this little quiet hollow and its fairy. The fairy had welcomed her, had ushered her in, and while she had agreed to stay (what else can she do?), her heart still pines for her mother, wherever she is.
On this particular day she’s staying near the hollow’s entrance, lingering in the vain hope that her mother will come to look for her. She’s had no luck so far, in fact, no one has come to the den … besides another pair of foals that she’s avoided.
But, on this day, she hears something. There’s a rustling in the bushes near the entrance, and her little blue head pops up in excitement. “Mommy! Is that you?”
Her fathers absence weighed much anticipation upon her wild soul. Would she ever see him? Would he ever return to reclaim his station in Ischia? She worried about him, perhaps even too much. but her wandering thoughts about her father caused her to wander herself, troubling herself with anxiety of maybe he returned while she continued to stray from their new homeland. With a hopeful heart one part of her wished for him not to return, it was strange how she longed for him yet still loathed him at the very exact time.
Wandering aimlessly, the obsidian girl found herself treading through the brush of the home for lost children. The scenery was new and vastly different from what she remember of the place as a child, passing it alongside her twin sister as they traveled day by day to the playground. It was quite different flourishing with it's own sort of life spring brought to the land but it was life marked with sorrowful faces.
She hoped to pass through unnoticed, motherhood was never really her forte and if she were ever to be a mother, her child would be the product of some form of love. Not to be abandoned off the face of the earth but her child would be hers, made of her own blood. But with the crane of an inclined ebony cranium and the swivel of a lobe she catches the sweet pitched vocals of a child, a little girl none the less. The filly called out to her, addressing her as mommy, and Clarisse's heart nearly breaks at the sound of her hopeful vocals.
"I'm sorry love, I'm not your mommy." She answers with silky vocals. As she steps gracefully into the clearing to meet the little girl who mistaken her as her mother. Extending her velvet muzzle towards the blue filly, in a friendly manner. "But if you wish to, you may call me your mommy. Whats your name sweet child?" She coos to the azure girl, dark chocolate eyes fawning over the child. Jesus christ Clarisse get ahold of yourself. Thats all she could her remind herself of what she was getting into.
dont make promises that you cant keep
html by call
It's been forever since I've posted Clari, so lets see how this goes XD
Occasionally, every now and then, there comes a day where an opportunity presents itself to shake the past from you. Today was one such day. And beside an old and twisted tree trunk where Etojo had slept immersed in many a dream. He awoke with a sudden start, he had an idea.
He rose rapidly on stiff and cracking limbs and set off. Though not without first grabbing a solid mouthful of oh so lush grass for the journey. How he had missed its juicy tang when for so long all he could stomach was rotting flesh and on occasion, something more bloody and fresh. He was glad of the curse being lifted, though how and by what being he did not know. Though that hardly mattered now either, and Etojo dismissed those thoughts rapidly as he re-shifted his focus back to his idea, it was all consuming. And as such, time passed, and the bulk of the journey elapsed quickly.
He wasn’t sure where he needed to go, exactly. Though he had heard whisperings of the den being somewhat near here. Halting momentarily, he strained his ears to listen out for the cries of motherless despair he was so certain would echo like squeals of doom through the forest. But there was only silence on that front, save for the rustle of leaves and sweet chirpy birds. It was eerily peaceful here, and not racked by the helpless voices of abandonment he had expected.
For the first time his plan was tinged with uncertainty. He felt directionless. To his right, the leaves were green and rustling, to his left, he found the same. All was similar rather than dissimilar, there was no magical pathway to light the way to the den, and he supposed he lacked a mother’s instinct to somehow knowingly know the way… if that was even a thing. He felt his idea stutter, it’s first kink. It would never work if he couldn’t find the damn place. Yet he had come this far, gone this deep… and like so many other aspects of his lonely and awkward life, this plan too was seemingly heading down the pathway of failure, a failure he had grown sick of.
Mommy! Is that you?
The little voice was the beacon he needed. He swivelled towards its direction and plunged himself into the dense leaves and branches that seemed to be some sort of strange foliage barrier he presumed was to keep away the undesirables. Eventually, with a huzza he burst through the last tangle of leaves and into the hollow. Finally, his idea would be realised. Finally, he had not failed. Finally, Etojo realised with both shock and confusion, followed by an ample amount of frustration that was only building and building, he realised with great displeasure he wasn’t the only one who had the ingenious idea to kidnap a foal-thing on a day like today.
He came to an abrupt halt, teeth clenched and muscles tense. He wasn’t sure how he would handle this unforeseen kink in the scheme though he was sure he would formulate a crazy plan soon. One thing he was certain of though, was that no one left this hollow until he had the foal. And to make that perfectly clear to the sweet voiced mare who was contaminating the little creatures head with the soothing words of a wannabe mother, he stated so. “No one is moving.”
Her heart is in her throat, her muscles bunching under her, reading to spring at her mommy the moment her head appears out of the bush …
But the face that breaks through the leaves is dark and tinged with gray. “I'm sorry love, I'm not your mommy.” Her face falls, and though she fights, she can’t help the tears that start welling up at the corners of her eyes. “I … I … I thought you were Mommy …”
The strange mare reaches out to her, kind, concerned. “But if you wish to, you may call me your mommy. Whats your name sweet child?” Eri’s eyes narrow and she draws back, leaning away from the questing muzzle. The corners of her lips draw downward into a firm pout. “But you’re not my Mommy!” The thought of calling someone else her Mommy? Well … it’s just not ok. She suddenly remembers that the mare had asked for her name. “I’m Eri. And you’re NOT my Mommy.”
The crunch of heavy hooves startles her, and she scuttles backwards as a large chestnut stallion stomps into the mouth of the hollow. He says no one is moving, and Eri’s little blue head cocks to the side in confusion. No one is moving? But no one had been moving? They’d only been talking? “Who are you?” Her eyes return to the grey mare, as if suddenly remembering her presence. “And who are you?!”
11-30-2016, 12:50 AM (This post was last modified: 11-30-2016, 12:52 AM by Lucrezia.)
Here it comes with no warning; capsize, i'm first in the water
The den had never been an ideal place she would so willingly go to. However, this particularly day she did not let her thoughts guide her but the ones that had given her a sense of excitement and happiness. It was the same instinct she had followed as a child on her many adventures. Her adventures had always led her to somewhere grand and breathtaking. It was a childish thing to do, but Lucrezia knew nothing of this new world. If she was to learn anything new about it she would have to return to her old instincts. The same way she had learned about the old world as a young filly.
It is only in passing, making her way through the den, that a familiar scent catches her attention. The peafowl mare comes to a direct halt. The fragrance has quickly come and gone in an instant. Her colored nutmeg gaze flickers hastily around her. Lucrezia is anything but cautious as she looks in the shadows of the den and in the distance from her. She knows this scent. The memories are so vivid in her mind, but still there is a blur as each memory comes to play in her mind that this scent belongs to. This scent is old, part of a world she no longer clings onto, but something in her clings heavily on this old but fresh scent.
Lucrezia moves here and there as she smells for the scent again and again. Her ears pin back against her skull in frustration as her eyes narrow. She cannot seem to find the scent again. It was clearly lost as quickly as it had come. Yet, a gentle breeze picks up, and by fate the scent gently touches the end of her nostrils. Lucrezia grasps onto the smell and lunges forward in the direction it comes, with the wind guiding her towards it.
Each step forward brings a more precise and strong scent into her nose. It pushes her to move faster on the trail it leads her to. Lucrezia does not question following the old, but familiar scent as it leads her down a path of unknowing. She has always followed such a path, a path that perhaps fate had guided for her at this very time as she pushes pass the tangled of leaves into the hollow. The scent is stronger than ever here. I found you! She laughs silently to herself playfully.
She abruptly comes to a stop as the scene unfolds before her. A red stallion, mare, and young filly. “No one is moving.” are words she hears matching an old and familiar memory. Lucrezia doesn’t need any more clues to figure out what has led her to here. And to whom! She is surprised to see the sight of the red boy. A boy who certainly was not a boy anymore. And she was no longer the winged mare since they had last seen each other. “FOOL!” She says harshly with narrowed eyes. “What are YOU doing?!”
She's elegant, and sweet but perhaps her idea of allowing the child to call her mommy had made her into a monster. She watches as the little girl scuttles, back she seems frightened, and Clari's heart breaks once more. If only she could press a reset button, maybe they can start on the right foot? Maybe she could offer to aid in finding the little girl's mother, perhaps that would work? But with a worried glance towards the little girl, Clari begins to see the little girls boundaries, she had already stepped out of place offering her her muzzle to the little girl. If Clari were in her place she would do the same.
She's tempted to say something, to apologize. But she's interrupted by the masculine vocals of another, "No one is moving.". She remained in a sense of silence watching Eri, as she was covered with confusion of both of them. The peculiar stallion, and herself. Her dark chocolate gems fall upon him, inspecting him with a weary swish of her tail. What did he mean by no one is moving? He had little control over either of them.
Then Eri speaks up, and Clari gladly answers trying to redeem herself in some way, "I'm Clarisse. Clari for short." Her sweet honey dipped words ring out, allowing her almost friendly glance to return to the orange colored stallion.
With the shuffling of foliage, Clari's attention shifts to a mare breaking out of the foliage and shouting out like a dog on the hunt. "FOOL!".... "What are YOU doing?!" The ebony maiden stands wide eyed watching, she hadn't expected for the den to be so active, wasn't this place usually rather vacant? Instead of bustling with activity? Puzzled by the mare, she remains silent allowing her limbs to stiffen in a weary manner, and her tail to whisp by with uncertainty.
She remains still, like a deer in headlight until there is a brief pause of silence, and allows her to relax only slightly of course. And with sightly stiffen limbs, she steps forth her milk chocolate eyes meeting with the new mare to join the petite little bunch. "And you are?" She manages to blurt out, with less of an elegance poised in her vocal chords.
A good question, and one Etojo had no sure answer for. Over the years, he had taken a moniker of many labels. Follower, loner, monster and now desperately lost. Though not physically so. Perhaps the den would’ve been a suitable home for himself, he could cower somewhere dark and shadowy, like a little abandoned foal whilst he waited for someone or something to pluck him from this self-induced misery, however unlikely as that would be. He looked from both filly to mare with a hard-faced glare which spoke his answer well enough, he wasn’t here to answer any questions.
"I'm Clarisse. Clari for short."
That’s nice, he thought, she seemed like a sweet mare. Innocent, perhaps a bit naïve to his intensions, whatever. She was clouding a situation which as far as he was concerned, should be as bright and straightforward as a clear day. He advanced on the pair, treading deeper into the hollow. He had visualised the plan over and over during the long journey just to get here. It was so simple. He goes in, he takes a child, either by emotional manipulation or force if it came to it - it hardly mattered which. And then he’d leave with his newly acquired asset. No one was going to interfere, not this time.
“FOOL!”
“What are YOU doing?!”
It was as if an invisible force had reached out to wrap tight tendrils of trepidation around his body. He felt his chest become awfully tight, and the lub dub of his heart began to beat both frantic and heavy. And yet, no such force graced this moment, only sudden and unexpected recognition. Etojo did not need to turn to see her face to know who spoke those words. He knew her voice well enough, it came from his long ago past, and he had known it as soon as she scolded him fool. It hadn’t been the first time, and he doubted sourly it would be the last.
And just like that, Lucrezia had shattered his marvellous plan into a thousand tiny shards of fail that could not, no, would definitely not, be reassembled whilst her presence remained here. Etojo ground his teeth together in annoyance. Suddenly, somehow, what he was attempting to do seemed wrong… no, that wasn’t it, the birth of his ideas were never wrong. Rather, the manifestation of it, in the here and now, wasn’t something he wished Lucrezia to bear witness to.
The dark mare stepped forward. Clara, Careli, he couldn’t remember, but he had told her not to move! Etojo felt an angry kind of helplessness come over him. If Lucrezia wasn’t standing behind him, he would act on this type non-compliance with a bit of forceful insistence. But Lucrezia knew him only as a stubborn, conceited fool with silly ideas, and that didn’t quite fit with monster.
"And you are?" the dark mare queried.
“Lucrezia…” he muttered for her. Both an answer and acknowledgment, and he finally turned his head to look at King Rodrik’s daughter. The disapproval in her eyes had always cut rather deep. And as per their usual custom, Etojo boldly met her narrow glare with an even narrower scowl of his own. Whilst he cared for Lucrezia, even after all this time, she was beginning to ruin all his moments. In fact, Etojo wondered if there had been any time at all when she had held her tongue and refrained from voicing her displeasure for any action he had ever done. Unlikely. She had butted heads with him from the get go.
“I was escorting them home.” He growled simply, perhaps too simply. A muscle twitched uncontrollably in his neck along with the lie. “It's a rather long journey, Clara here can’t manage on her own.” As he loomed with peculiar intention close to Clarisse, his mouth a whisper away from her ear. “Can you.” It wasn’t a question. “Look at the thing,” he tossed a nonchalant gesture towards the skittish foal child. “it’s obviously sick.” Referring of course, to the deep blue pigment of her coat.
“What’s it to you Lucrezia? Do you need an escort too?” he jibed. As if Lucrezia needed anything from him, she was too fiercely independent and sure of herself. But the barb was meant to get under her skin. Anything that had ever eluded to an incapacity always had.
Eri gives a hesitant nod, relaxing a little more now that the mare isn’t calling suggesting Eri call her Mommy. Her eyes return to the chestnut stallion, waiting for him to speak, but before the stranger has a chance to open his mouth, another shape comes crashing through the bushes.
“FOOL! What are YOU doing?!” Eri stares at the newcomer with wide eyes. Something is clearly going on, something not entirely to do with her. She starts taking slow steps backwards, every once in a while glancing behind herself, trying to look for an exit. Maybe she can escape while they are all distracted …
But unfortunately she’d already backed herself into a little hollow - a corner formed by two large rocks - during her previous outburst, so instead she huddles, trying to make herself as small as possible. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll all forget about her.
And, at least for the moment, they seem to have. The eyes of the grey mare are fixed on the newcomer, and the newcomer’s eyes are fixed on the chestnut stallion who’s now saying something about escorting (she has no idea what that means), home, and a long journey. Eri does her best to remain small and quiet … until the stallion announces that she (there’s no question of to whom he is referring) is sick. “I’m not sick! I just can’t find my Mommy!”
12-04-2016, 03:02 PM (This post was last modified: 12-04-2016, 03:07 PM by Lucrezia.)
Here it comes with no warning; capsize, i'm first in the water
Lucrezia does not dare remove her eyes from the red stallion even when her own presence in this hollow is questioned. Truly, she didn’t want to intrude on such a time where a mare came to aid the lost foal. She knows exactly what it is like and the bond that begins to form with new mother and child. It is a bond that blossoms with life and strength—a bond that is unbreakable. However, she could not ignore what she had found.
He answers for her. The recognition in his words and voice did not come close to match his bold gaze back at her. It was nothing to be surprised coming from Etojo and her relationship with him in the past. He was from a world so long ago; one she was beginning to forget as she ventured into this new life. It was with trouble and uncertainty that she made this new path. But Etojo, right now in this moment, only left a sour taste in her mouth. “Etojo.” Lucrezia says with a grin spreading across her thin lips. Her grin is playful and mocking to see his displeasure for her presence here. She had always enjoyed ruining whatever game he was up to, but something in her had always made her enjoy his company. In another time, she perhaps would have greeted him with open arms and a warmth embrace but today was something off, and she even knew by the way she had found him and the others in this hollow. "Yes, I am Lucrezia," she says turning her gaze to Clara and then to the filly at the very end of the hollow. Her statement is much more soft and kinder when she speaks to the two other females than it is to Etojo.
She listens carefully and watches sensibly to the situation that begins to unfold more. Lucrezia has always keen on her instinct of trouble, and let alone anything that Etojo ever did. It wasn’t exactly her second nature to know what the red stallion did. However, she recalls a few tricks of his trade from her early days in Beqanna. “Escorting them to where?” She asks with a flick of her tail, eyeing him carefully and then turning her attention to the mare named Clara and then the filly. Lucrezia is even unsure of what is coming from this situation. What sort of trouble was Etojo creating and burying himself into this time? She is still unsure of the situation for it has been years since she has seen him and whatever he has been up to.
Etojo jibs at her like she is some small child again. As if she was incapable of doing anything! He indeed knew how to get under her skin, to open the wounds that made her feel so vulnerable. But, once a time ago, she would’ve reacted sourly to his displeasure in this manner. Lucrezia would’ve scolded him and knocked some sense into him before rushing off in a hurry after her irritation at him. Instead she laughs softly, “As if I needed anything from you.” She needed nothing from anyone, especially someone from the likes of him. He was nothing but an idiot to Lucrezia, but somehow she had always thought of him and what he ended up doing when he disappeared.
The sudden pep of the young filly and association of being “sick” draws her wandering thoughts to a conclusion. Lucrezia takes a step forward bluntly and turns her eyes back to Etojo. “You FOOL,” he says harshly again but her words are indeed more displeasing this time than ever before. She knows what is happening now, and she does not like it at all. “She is not sick. You are the one that is sick, Etojo!” Lucrezia is disgusted by this monstrosity. She would not allow him to try and “fix” the young filly just as he had tried to fix her one day when she had her wings gifted to her by the Deserts. Lucrezia would not allow such a thing happen today, not to this little one that has readily come into this world.
He wanted to retort that he would be escorting them anywhere that was far enough away from her, but he held his tongue this time as steady as he wore his ever sullen scowl. Lucrezia’s question, as always, and as true to her nature, undoubtedly one step in front of the absurdity that was him. After all these years, that hadn’t changed. If there was any part of the plan still waiting to be unravelled, well, it did so now. It was all useless, there was nothing to salvage here.
Clarisse remained motionless, either incredibly brave beneath the threatening veil of his words, or, as he preferred to think, struck into stillness by fear. Something about that thought made him feel more like a man. At least there was one amongst them who grasped the magnitude of the situation she found herself in. He should be feared, even beneath the disarmament of Lucrezia’s words.
“You FOOL,”
“She is not sick. You are the one that is sick, Etojo!”
And there it was, Lucrezia’s disapproval transformed into disgust. Her words laced with repulsion and her eyes breathing fire. His sour glare grew wide with confusion, his mouth agape, shocked. He could not understand her outrage. He broke his gaze away from her and glanced at the parts of his body he could easily discern. There was nothing about him that was disgusting, perhaps before he reasoned – when he wore a cloak of leaves and smelled of carrion. But his scent was of grass and wildflowers now, his body plain and otherwise normal. There was nothing ill about him, nothing that he could determine which would provoke such an uncalled-for reaction. He looked back at her, a token of hurt invaded his expression before masked once again by his anger. If she could see through the cracks of his failed plan, couldn’t she also understand that beneath it all, beneath everything, no matter the wayward way he went about it, that he was trying to take care of something.
She didn’t get it, Lucrezia had labelled him fool from when they were young, and he realised the label would never be shaken. He was done here.
And with a frustrated snort laced with hot breath and mucus, Etojo backed away from both blue filly and mare, backed away until he was alongside Lucrezia. Her natural scent mingled with strange smells too alien for him to make sense of anymore. Perhaps much like she had become to him, and him to her.
“Move.” He ordered her, yes ordered her. Lucrezia, perhaps more of a stranger now then an almost once friend was blocking the opening to the underbrush he had initially burst through. She had never obeyed one of his damn orders before, but if she knew what was good for her, good for him, she would listen to him this once. He was overly tense, hurt and wild with a growing anger. He needed to get out of here, needed to go back to the forest, to brood and return to the solitude he had become so used to. This child wouldn’t be his, he accepted that, but that wouldn’t stop him from finding another, far away from Lucrezia’s condescending eye.
