"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
It really was rare that Kylin wasn't at his side. Since birth, the twins had been nearly joined at the hip even though he often acted as though he were an older brother, often treated her as a younger sister. Not in a cruel way, but in deep kindness. Like she was something to be handled delicately, careful not to harm. Someone to watch over and make sure she didn't get hurt, or do anything he deemed was too foolish.
Today, though, he gave her a little space from his smothering presence, not that she was bothered at all by him. He just didn't want to drive her into getting tired of him.
So maybe it was an odd act of fate then, or complete chance, that he was alone for once when he felt an entirely new presence in his mind today. Curious, his head turned towards it, towards her, and almost mechanically, he followed. His lavender and white hair was soft and tousled as he walked with casual purpose, not nearly as long as it would some day grow to be. At only a year old, he was already quite tall and slender, with a smooth grace that was perhaps strange in a teenager, but not surprising for one of his bloodline. Father was so very beautiful, too.
The link of iron hanging about his neck shimmered like polished silver, a broad medallion thumping quietly, comfortably against his bare chest with each step. It warmed in the sunlight and settled silently as he paused, his pale, gray eyes finally landing on this new one that he hadn't seen before -or heard before. Instead of listening in, he approached her from behind, his wings fluttering and resettling at his sides.
"Hello," he greeted her smoothly with a friendly smile, taking in her appearance as she turned to him. He'd never seen anyone like her, not even remotely so. She was the green of a secret forest, the deep jade of an emerald gem hidden in shadows. And painted with white, just as he and his sister were. And Father, of course. Sort of like Reilly, too. Not a lick of purple on her, though, nor that auburn-red of Reilly's. No brownish-gray like Mother.
Not like anyone.
"I'm Kharon," he said, his eyes finding their way back to hers. "Are you from a nearby territory? I haven't met anyone from outside yet."
The sun seemed sharper here, glinting over her emerald and white hide hungrily. Minerva is not quite sure what to make of home yet as she was unaccustomed to thought as of yet. Dear old Pa had left her to rot in a meadow but the plants had cared for her, weaving around her and protecting her tiny body from the fist of the world until one day the familiar painted bastard waltzes up and asks her to come home with him. Well was she going to simply scoff and decline?
Of course not.
Minerva wove honeysuckle blossoms in her mane and tail, dripping with sweet morning dew. The flowers craved her attention, moving their pretty heads towards her, begging for a glance. Minerva would indulge the rose as well as the thorns, caressing them softly, running the tip of her tongue along their edges.
But a voice -male, young- breaks the spell as she turns her face away from the wild flora. Dark green eyes look to find a small male, trapped between colt and stallionhood, standing there before her. He is painted like her but purple and probably one of the Kerberos clan. Finely chiseled hips swing around so she may look upon the other with a small pursed lipped smirk, tasting his youthful scent. Minerva was around a year his senior, not much older, toying between the lines of her own adulthood.
A small gathering of roses are now at her feet as she silently wills them to leave their places amongst the thorns. She drops her face as they eagerly brush against her muzzle to pay tribute to their queen. "Kharon. Minerva breathes his name against the petals of the flowers at her hooves before one leaves, root limbs covering the space between them quickly, and stops before the male. "I'm Minerva." The green girl lifts her head, the roses now braided into a crown, smiling at Kharon coyly. "Lovely to meet you. Would your father happen to be Kerberos?" She asks him while watching from beneath long sooty lashes, already knowing the answer.
There were flowers in her hair, at her feet, in her grasp. She didn't even have to look at them, and they reached for her. His eyes lit as he watched, intrigued. He'd never seen anything like that before, the way they stretched to her, danced for her like sentient beings. The way they ripped from their homes to lay at her feet, caressed her mouth as she bent and breathed his name into their depths.
Minerva, she'd said. She raised her head to smile at him, a crown of roses twined over her hair. "Lovely to meet you. Would your father happen to be Kerberos?"
He grinned wide, another light brightening his gray eyes. Gray like Father's. "Yes! I'm his son," he confirmed proudly, thrilled that a stranger would know his father, and further enthused that the wonderful man could be found in his own young face. He wanted to be just like his dad. Father was incredible, after all. So beautiful, like him. He could never shine and shimmer as he did, but he'd be as close as he could get, otherwise. Dad had made him this wonderful necklace, so he was a little shiny like him.
"Where are you from?" he tried again, his curiosity piqued. She was so different from anything he'd ever seen before. What would bring such a creature to their island?
The grin that tugs and reveals his teeth draws a small one in return upon min's own. His purple painted skin, the dining silver eyes...the clink of metal that adorns his neck. A child of iron. Min knows this all very well despite the distance in which she lived. Kerberos was a name whispered upon maimed, raped and blinded horses.
But had the old man gone soft?
Minerva moves to remove some of the space between then, looking the boy over. The flowers follow in her wake like a studious little army. They were her friends, more family than the boy who stood before her, but the simplicity of his question and glittering curiosity echoing in his eyes halts any little game Minerva may want to play so instead she bites back on the desire to play with the pretty boy. "I was in the forest and Kerberos found me and asked me to join Ischia." The frankness in her voice is punctuated with a shrug, her gaze move away from Kharon, looking over the edge of where the sea met the sand. Emerald eyes scan for nothing in particular though she wonders why she came to the island after all. What could this place offer her?
Her attention is returned to the youth as she gives him a small smirk as she extends her muzzle to politely exchange scents like normal horses do, admiring the shiny chunk of iron around the boys neck. Minerva wonders if Kerby gave it to the boy as a gift or as a collar...she would have to remember to ask about this when she sees him next.
She stepped closer and he wasn't bothered in the least, remaining precisely where he was. They were an affectionate family, and he was used to closeness. Not from strangers, of course, but he was still at ease in her presence. Even when he caught that wayward thought, or perhaps more so.
Pretty boy.
He'd never been called that before.
His smile grew just a little wider, further intrigued.
"I was in the forest and Kerberos found me and asked me to join Ischia."
Hmm, he'd never heard that either. Father had brought someone back with him? He studied her closer as she stared out towards the sea. She didn't really seem like his dad's type, although his type could be many, perhaps. She was certainly nothing like Mother, but then again, Mother wasn't his type either. Or something. It got complicated there, and he tried not to think on it. Too confusing. Still, she seemed a bit young, even for Father's tastes. Or so he thought. And green. Did he really like that? Maybe he didn't know his dad so well.
He frowned. That was a terrible thought. Of course he knew his father.
But her thoughts distracted him. She didn't know why she was here. Did she not like it here? He was wearing a smile again when she turned back to him though, her muzzle stretching towards him. His eyes shined with curiosity again, with interest as he reached to meet her. The white snip of his nose brushed softly, carefully against hers. This was new. He'd never done this with a stranger before. He thought he might have liked it, but then his eyes flickered with hurt and confusion before smoothing away to a carefully blank face.
A collar? Father would never collar him.
Maybe she didn't know dad after all. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Would Father bring a complete stranger home and invite them to stay? He didn't think so. But, of course, he trusted his dad. He must have his reasons. Maybe he'd brought her here for Kharon? His head tilted at that and another smile curved his young lips.
"Do you like it here?" he asked, returning to his previous thoughts. "I'm sure my sister might love that... flower thing you can do. Girls like flowers, don't they? You seem to. Or perhaps it's a young woman thing instead?" He shifted a subtle step closer, his gray eyes settling deep into the emerald green of hers.
