"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
One step. ”Okay.” Two step. ”You can do this.” Three step. Three is followed by four, five, six, and so on. But all step by careful step. He cannot see where he is going, he cannot see what might be in his way. Once it hadn’t been a problem to navigate around without sight, but after having had the luxury of being able to see, it was pretty damn hard to be blind again.
Never before in his life had Brynmor felt this insecure. As a colt he had learned how to live with his handicap and though slow, he had always managed to navigate himself around. Yes, of course had he bumped into things occasionally or had he underestimated trotting, bucking and rearing. But the gray male had never felt insecure. It was like the old knowledge had been deleted out of his system, like he had forgotten all he knew once he had been able to see.
It had been Djinni who had granted his careless whispered wish. It had been her who had given him sight. He had been able to see the world’s wonders with his own eyes. But the fairies had taken it from him. As they had taken all the magic from the world. Though he cannot think of it as fair, he also cannot be angry with them. They had given them the this world. They had given them life, friends, loved ones, family. And a home. They should be ever grateful for all that. Brynmor was. Just like he accepts fact that his eyes are a milky bluish white again, but he does not like it.
By the time he reaches the small stream – taking much longer than necessary – his sides are covered with sweat. He had barely been moving, but for the Welsh Cob hybrid it had been quite intensive. ”Water..” he mumbles, his head slowly lowering and touching the ground as to search for where the waterside would be. Grass, earth and then, water. With a hasty step he dips his head lower, eagerly drinking his thirst away.
Every day the yearling finds herself further and further from Pangea. It was a game at first - how far could she stray from her mothers overbearing eyes before she was caught? Once Harmonia regained her magic she forgot about Ajatar, except to prod her into a show of her traits whenever powerful horses were around. She thinks, then, of the grand stallion in Pangea that promised her control of her powers. If she could control it mother couldn't control her.
If she could control it she could use it and not hurt herself.
So every day she takes another step further and further from Pangea, and every day she's rewarded by freedom and the open air. Here in the meadow is her temporary favorite, for no other reason than the striking change in scenery. Pangea was a wasteland, desecrated ugliness. The meadow was beautiful, even during this winter. She smiles at the thought of it and revels in the cool streams and the high stalks of grass.
But with freedom comes danger. She tiptoes on the banks of the creek, feeling the water cool between the scales on her legs. She sees the alligator (strange, out of season creature) swimming lazily in the water - waiting. She watches him curiously and sees him pinpoint a target, becoming still - predatory. It reminded her of her mother.
Her eyes make contact with the stallion in the water and fear grips her throat. She wills him silently to see the alligator, but he doesn't. He just mumbles, bathes - unblinking. Is he blind, she wonders? "Hey!" she calls out in her high, yearling voice. "Careful!" she adds. She kicks up noise to stir the alligator away, heading in the direction of the stallion in the process.
Before he knows it he finds himself – or more like he feels the water tickling his legs – standing in the water. His relief of finally having found something to drink is the only thing on his mind right now. There had been a time at which he would be constantly ware of everything around him. Even the tiniest sound would make his ear twitch, the lightest breath of air brushing against his skin would make him dance sideward and his nose, it would tell him whenever someone was approaching. But it is as if they no longer work.
Brynmor is unaware of the danger that lies still in the water. Perhaps it was the new world, or perhaps it was that he had only been familiar with the Tundra and her habitants. His ears don’t pick up the tiniest sound of the movement of water, only his thirst counts. A content, relieved sigh escapes from pale lips as he lifts his head, droplets of water falling down to mingle with the river’s surface again. His unseeing gaze stares in the nothing across the river.
Her sudden shout has him stumbling backwards, tripping over his own legs and whatever was in his way. By the time he comes to a halt his head his high up in the air, ears twitching around almost nervously and his nostrils flaring widely. His empty gaze glances around, finding nothing of course. ”Who’s there?” he asks, the insecurity clearly audible in his voice. Once, once Brynmor had been confident. He hadn’t been the quickest, or the smartest, but he had been able to survive.
It is only when he holds his breath that he hears the swoshing movement of the water, something swimming away. The voice that had called out to him, that told him to be careful, clearly didn’t belong to that something. Brynmor is shaking, graying form moving on his place nervously, as he tries to locate the girl – now he was aware of her presence he actually smelled her. His ears never rest, as his graying head and pale blue eyes move around, eventually stopping to look in the way he guess she’s in, but he has never felt less accurate. ”W-what’s going on?”
She's made enough noise to make both her location known and for the water predator to slink away. It casts a reproachful glare at her and then slides into the depths of the water, annoyed at missing its dinner. Ajatar watches it float away, silent and still for a moment. She marvels at the way the scales shimmer under the water, so much like the ones that cover her legs but still so different. She is silent long enough for it to be awkward after the stallion asks after her.
She regards him, then, forgetting for a moment he was there. Something about the water predator gives her pause and makes her pulse quicken in her throat. It's unknown to the inhabitants of Beqanna just how hardy those water creatures are, how some lore have them aged older than the oldest tree that exists. She knows nothing of this, she is just a yearling and she knows very little - if anything - about the world.
"My name is Ajatar," she says at last, snapping from her quiet thoughts. She moves to the stallion, watching him carefully. His eyes loll about in his head, he looks ... lost? He never truly looks at her and she tilts her head in consideration, stopping a few feet short of him. "There was an alligator in the water, did you....did you not see it?" The youth in her voice might soften the blow of her words, but she is too young and too silly to know that it might wound to point out the obvious.
There's none so blind as those who will not listen.
With the noise she gives him the information he needs to locate her. His head sways in her direction, though his non seeing gazes stares right through her – or actually a bit past her since his sense of direction is a bit off. His ear twists at the sound of water moving, the predator slipping away. Brynmor stands frozen on his spot, deeming himself safe now he was a bit away from the water bank.
Her voice cuts through the air, suddenly, surprising him. She had kept silent for a while, almost making him think she had left him after that one quick warning. Brynmor doesn’t instantly reply, instead he keeps standing quite rigid. His nerves don’t get much better as she tells him what had been there, what she had warned him of and what she bravely had scared away. No. He didn’t see it.
”I.. thank you” he eventually answers, now slightly relaxing though he couldn’t quite say he didn’t like the idea. In the Tundra he hadn’t come across any predators or dangers like that. And he couldn’t say that this knowledge didn’t affect him. ”I cannot.. I can no longer see, dear Ajatar. Not anymore” he adds. Brynmor know she didn’t mean any harm with her question, though it had never been nice and still wasn’t to be confronted with it in such way.
”I’m Brynmor” he eventually introduces himself. His blind stare is still directed in what he thinks is her direction, but ever since she had pointed out the danger he had been exposed to, his eyes had never rested. His nostrils tremble lightly as he scans the air around them, suddenly so aware of his lacking. ”Can you, perhaps, tell me.. tell me where we are, Ajatar?”
She toys with this realization for a bit, wondering over it. She was wary of her own power, considering it a sort of handicap or maiming of some sort - especially with the little control she had over it. But what would it be to be blind? The way he says it - she may be young but she catches that hint at the edge of his voice - it was lost. At some point and time he'd had vision.
"Not anymore..." she echoes, her voice contemplative, unsure. The silence stretches between them before the stallion speaks again and asks where they are. She glances around, remembering, but wondering what information he was interested in. Did he mean for her to describe their surroundings? Or just say where they were?
"The meadow," she says at last. "Is this your home? Are you lost?"
There's none so blind as those who will not listen.
Silence stretches. Perhaps she had really been surprised by his revealed blindness. She sounded young, that could explain why she didn’t recognize his defect. It simply was one, nothing less, nothing more. Some had judged him because of him, had looked down on him, but others had been welcoming. Brynmor remembers Hurricane telling him nobody was useless, unless the thought so themselves.
Back in time, before Djinni had gifted him with sight, he had never experienced it how it was to be alone. Physically he had been just that, dumped in a dark corner of the Chamber. His mind had played a little trick with him though, giving him a friend. He had not released that until he had noticed the absence of a horse even though he could hear the voice in his head. Compared to that Ajatar’s voice is as music to his ears ”The Tundra is my home, if we are in the meadow now, that means I should go north.” But where was the north?
Brynmor just stands there, realisation hitting him dead on. He was barely able to find food and water, didn’t even recognize the danger he was in. How was he supposed to determine which direction would be the north? Fear shakes him and instantly he gets more nervous. His not seeing gaze move across the meadow, ears twitching and nostrils flaring. That he looked ridiculous wasn’t the thing that bothered his mind right at that moment.
Ajatar is unsure how she feels toward the blind stallion. Many feelings are learned, aren't they? Her mother knows only cold indifference, manic displays of power and absolute hatred. She feels none of these toward the blind horse. What she feels makes her gut twist a bit, like she ate a particularly strange flower and it's making its way slowly down her throat and burning all the way. It's not unpleasant, but it's not pleasant, either. She's too young to parse out these emotions so she shakes them free with a symbolic shake of her head. Yes, she'll get rid of all those silly thoughts and focus on the stallion in front of her...who is currently speaking.
The Tundra? She mulls this over in her mind, considering.
"I've never heard of the Tundra," she says, shifting her weight. "But I've only ever lived one place - Pangea. It's ugly." It occurs to her that maybe she should describe the land, but if he's never seen it would he know what waste looks like? Would he understand the crags that fall helplessly into a muck filled river?
"I'd love to see the Tundra, though. I'm trying to explore more." And get away from my mother she adds, an afterthought.
There's none so blind as those who will not listen.
Like the Tundra is unknown to her, he has never heard of Pangea before. That either meant she was not from Beqanna, or he had gotten so lost without his sight that he had wandered out of the lands he had always called home. Though, far as his other sense could tell him, this meadow was the very same as the one he knew.
”The Tundra is quite beautiful, if I may say so. During most of the year the fields are covered with a layer of snow, as far as the eye can see, and the summer grass was lush and fresh. You might like it” he replies, his head swaying into the direction he guesses she stands. But even if he would guess right, his pale blue eyes would stare right through her. It would have no difference if he would just keep his eyes closed, but that felt unnatural and strange too.
A small smile pulls on the corners of his lips and he nods. ”We should go north then, dear Ajatar. Would you mind helping me out a little?” he asks her. He does not know how young she is, only that she sounded very young. Perhaps it was wrong to rely on youth like this, but he simply didn’t know how else he was supposed to get home. And it was time that he would find someone who tell him what happening.
BRYNMOR
OOC:
I'm sorry for the wait. Let me know if you don't want to continue this thread because of the huge amount of time that passed, I understand if its too much and doesnt fit the story line anymore ^^.
"North?" she echoes, frowning. "North of here is the volcano, Tephra...then the sea." Maybe it was an ocean, but what do horses know of geographical distinctions? She knows there's a volcano, she saw it herself, and she knows it's the only thing north of this particular plot of land. North west, perhaps there is more...but it all buts up to the sea. Beqanna the island - as lonesome as man.
"Are you..." she is unsure how to phrase this in a delicate way that will not appear rude. Her mother never raised her to be kind but it occurs to her on multiple occasions that words can maim just as much as magic. Look at her mother and the verbal abuse she could deliver - did Ajatar not smart from her unkind words? To claim otherwise was an act of violence.
"Are you sure you're not horribly lost? We are in Beqanna, is that where you're..." she pauses then, considering an act of history that happened well before her time. Years, really, but a history she knew nonetheless. "Did you know about the shift?" She's unsure what to call it, what it should be called, but her mother called it a word Ajatar did not dare to repeat so she makes her own word. Shift. Change. The Time of No Magic.
