"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
When Romek had left, the fragile glass heart that beat in her chest cracked in delicate jagged lines. Maribel did not understand what had driven him off. The heavy weight of leadership seemingly had costed them the happiness of which they had sounded their home on.
Some two years had passed since the snow woman had seen the stallion. For two years, Maribel had lived amongst the deer and wolves of Taiga, in a secret purgatory of her own making. Low breathes echo against her ears as she walks from her forested home with no guidance or direction. Her thoughts drift to her young daughters (now two!). Word had reached Mari that Alivia still roamed the thick foliage of Taiga. Though she had not spoken to her child in a length of a year, Mari knew that he daughter would not be found unless she wanted it so.
The bright sun blinds her momentarily as she breaches the meadow. Liquid sapphire eyes blink quickly from beneath the gold forelock. A hint of a smile graces her lips but it fails to take hold and falls away. Why had she come to this place? Why did she not stay gone like the others? Gold dipped limbs move her over the ground, barely touching the land, drifting. Perhaps the change of scenery would be beneficial. Perhaps she could make new memories, know new face and names.
The Reckoning had taken so much from her. Her family, her lover, her children. But the mare was resilient. If anything, her father Offspring, had taught her to survive and the mare would not let herself become just a mare lost in Beqanna's history. With a lifted head, she takes a breath to clear away the worries from her features, the warm summer air and scent of wildflowers lifting her spirits.
'Today is a new day...a better day'. She thinks to herself as a smile touches her golden lips.
And when she laughs you'll always take notice.
'Cause her heart's charm will shine right through it all.
12-11-2016, 01:25 PM (This post was last modified: 12-11-2016, 01:26 PM by Rodrik.)
At first it starts in his heart, then it quickly spreads through his body. It flows through his veins like wildfire, sparing nothing in its path. The magic devours everything and all. It chemically changes, tainting the blood that flows in his body.
The feeling is overwhelming once the transition is complete. A newfound paradise lingers in his soul, living and breathing through his blood. The power he so longed to regain has at last returned. Rodrik can taste it, the poison lingering on his lips. He feels like a snake, hiding in the shadows and waiting to strike any moment now.
Power—a feeling he has longed waited for again.
Rodrik can feel the bright sun on his face as he stands too at the breach of the meadow. In this moment, it feels more enjoyable than ever. As if he was feeling the sun for the first time again. However, such a price for returning his poison manipulation would cost him one day. Rodrik was not much for risking everything or even himself to willingly to others. It was the return of what was rightfully his, a protection mechanism he needed, that made him stoop to lower standards than ever before. He was becoming something else
The Reckoning had taken everything that had chained him. It was a blessing despite the loss of the old lands and traits, but Rodrik had never been born a traited horse. He was simply a babe, with little in the world except a heart and mind that longed for more than what was offered to him. The once blood king strived for everything he wanted. At times it had led him down a nasty path. However, he regrets nothing of his past—a sinner he always will be.
Rodrik carefully steps forward, feeling that he can bare the weight of his change now. His nutmeg gaze flickers across the grassland. A simple search of what is around him. He does not explore what lies in the meadow at this moment for long. The appearance of the pure white and golden tipped mare catches all of his attention. There is something sweet, but bold, about her—something like his mother was. It draws him to her, not that he was far from her either. Then again, Rodrik was feeling rather invincible at this very moment.
“Hello there,” he greets her with a smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. His eyes spark with interest, hiding the maliciousness and pride that are often shown. Rodrik flicks his right ear forward to her. He is careful to look her over for a moment—assessing her for anything. It is a habit for him to search for strengths and weaknesses of another. A simple outlook could always be a mask too. Rodrik is not easily to allow himself to be a fool. “A nice day wouldn’t you say it is?” He says confidently as pride strokes his ego softly. “I’m Rodrik by the way,” he adds with the tilt of his head.
The meadow offers nothing more than sunshine and sustenance, Perhaps that is why she chooses to come. Each hoof falls dully in front of the other, blue eyes lifting occasionally is there is an unfamiliar scent of sound. The white mare does not notice the other until his scent finds it's way to her delicate nostrils.
Bright blue eyes lift from the trance that seems to hold her closer to the earth, slightly sagged shoulders, a distant look mask upon her features. But his scent shakes her from her plodding. it is dark, wet and earthy and unlike any other. Maribel halts to stop for a look, not trusting.
Quivering skin.
Rotating lobes.
Big blue eyes wide and wet.
But then he says 'hello'.
Mari about jumps out of her skin! She spins to come rather uncomfortably face to face with a chestnut stallion. "Oh!" The sound is rather pinched as she is attempting to breath and talk at the same time. Slender limbs move his off kilter and she almost tips over when a tree manages to break the fall she could have had. A wide and crooked smile immediately replaces any trace of the sullen mare that was once tromping through the grass. "Hello there." The words misdirected as she is peering through golden locks but the quick toss of her skull right the situation and she finds her balance and steadies herself on her own legs once again. "I didn't hear you there." The tones a re feminine and soft as she smiles and gives a short chuckle. "I'm Maribel." The white mare stands with side swept forelock and a small, shy smile quirking her lips
And when she laughs you'll always take notice.
'Cause her heart's charm will shine right through it all.
Rodrik did not expect the mare to feel uneasy towards him so quickly in his greeting to her. It was not as if he was dressed in the torn muscles and ligaments and broken bones before the Reckoning. He was whole and in one piece together. Truthfully, the red stallion had a handsome set of features that went along with his rather bright red coat. It was something he once prided in when he was a younger boy, but now such things meant nothing to him. He never cared for the physical things. Only for the mind and heart that made him consider another and their worth.
He laughs though, not rudely when she spins and almost breaks a fall. It is a warmly laughter—one that does not escape so often from him. However, Rodrik was feeling in a rather pleasant mood right now. “I’m sorry,” he begins, “I did not hope to startle you there.” He smiles with a dark smirk at her, letting his gaze relax on her as she finds her balance once again. “I did not think I was that frightening.” But, at one time, he was a force to be reckon with. He was a monster—beneath the handsome features and bright red coat—and the devil himself. Rodrik was someone you should not cross ever.
When she laughs, his ear turns into her direction. “Maribel, huh?” He says it more as a statement than question. Rodrik watches as she shyly smiles. “It must’ve been a good dream then, or whatever your thoughts were at.” Rodrik watches her carefully now as he allows a grin to spread across his lips. He waits like a snake in the grass, slithering in for the kill. It is a pity game he plays with all, but there is something valuable about information—something personal to gain maybe one day for himself.
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