"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
05-28-2017, 01:34 PM (This post was last modified: 05-28-2017, 01:38 PM by vaughan.)
VAUGHAN
What a whirlwind the past few years have been for the floppy-eared stallion In the changing of multiple seasons he has lost track of his sibling, his mother and the Tundra he had come to grow with. While rumor on the wind was the omniscient Gods of Beqanna had stripped most of their traits, it went unnoticed to him. What didn't go unnoticed was how painfully alone he had become, he had lost touch with Offspring, Brennen, and any other remotely familiar person and after two or so years it had caught up. As a colt he was grossly independent and unabashed in his trek of independence but with age he has grown the need for a purpose. A need to be in the midst of others, deep down he was his father's son (though he didn't know him) in wanting a job to do.
Long had his thick coat shed from the ice laden grounds but he was still unaccustomed to the wind blowing against his midnight pelt, it still sent a chill much colder than the Tundra ever had. In his travels, he finds himself amongst the trees and that provides some comfort of home. He was born in the Chamber and though most of the pines burned slowly and left only ash; the Great tree was always there. If he remembered how to smile, he surely would have at the thought of such memories. Painful as they may have been in the moment. He looks occasionally through his thick black locks to see if he recognizes anyone but soon loses interest. He'd rather eat and watch the creatures of the underbrush scurry about, they still had a sense of urgency (for fear of being eaten, likely) and he appreciated that.
He watches as a few rabbits twitch their noses and bound from side to side, their ears reminding him of his own reflection but he was not such a charming animal. Vaughan in previous years had been been a smartass and any sort of adorable qualities he had were soon replaced with distaste. He chuckles at the rabbits thumping the ground and in the general sense of how quickly they multiplied. He was nearly six and had yet to be with a woman. It wasn't something he had much value in thus far in life, it seemed all just an unnecessary evil. Perhaps eventually he would change his mind but for now he was pleased with simple conversation and eventually a home to call his own. He was too proud for the field, a home would have to come on his terms but this is about as much of a 'call for help' as the floppy ear man would ever give.
THE MAN WHO FEARS LOSING HAS ALREADY LOST.
eventually i'd like him to go to a land, i have his mom in tephra so that's my only non-option but he'd love to chat and make 'friends' with anyone!
They could all go fuck themselves.
Deathwish moves through the forest easily, leaving a wake of destruction behind her. Anything green, anything fragrant, she snuffs out with nary a thought. Damn them all. Vegetation, flowers. They wither with her anger. The lavender grey woman is blinded red with her fury, smiling grimly as the trees wither and die, the wood of their trunks cracking and splintering. They would grow again, eventually—maybe—but for the time being, they could all rot. Her great grandfather, that flamboyant windbag, had abandoned them just as they had won, and Grandmere had gone with them. Even her own mother—well, fuck you too, Mum.
Perhaps they imagined her capable of living and dying on her own. But she was not used to being on her own. Going from being surrounded by family, as annoying as they were, to being entirely by herself… Well, it did not sit well with DW. She did not know how to cope without the company of her family. Or.. without anyone, for that matter. She had known her usefulness—her power—when she was within the Coven, and alone, Deathwish was merely an odd-colored girl with a few weird abilities. Time had passed, and she had gone back to the forest, allowing her anger to taint her heart black. Between the trees, she has been able to hone her craft. She loves to kill things.
And anyone who crosses her path, has a Deathwish.
The girl smiles with wicked irony as she turns her curved hip to walk with a black booted step right into Vaughan’s path. Her thick black hair is laying in front of her grey eyes, and she tosses her head as she comes across him, her anger resting in her eyes as she rolls her shoulders back and slides forward. The rabbits that the black man is so fond off—her eyes flash silver and they stop where they stand, their hearts withering and dying in their chest, and the decomposition of their bodies happens within mere minutes.
Let this luscious blue-black man pay attention to something a bit more—his style. “They fuck far too often as it is…call it culling the herd.”
Family. Vaughan had a sibling and a mother, truth be told that he was more protective of the both of them than either had been over him. Vaughan had been protecting his 'family' since a yearling, thus his broken ear but it was a job he gladly did. He would die for either of his close family and would murder for them as well. Sadly, he has no idea where either of them have gotten off too - after the reckoning he lost sight of most things. He has been quite content in his passage through the forrest up until this point, his floppy ear musters a bit of strength as his other ear quickly reaches back. He hears a crack and at first, thinks nothing of it - trees fall in the woods daily and often go unnoticed but something feels different. It's every few seconds that one crashes and a faint scent taints the earth, rolling towards him. Instinctually, he should want to flee from the area but stubbornness was a well-bred gene and so instead he's curious. Soon the culprit slinks towards him and although he should turn to face them, he's feeling rather spry himself so instead he continues to graze but not for long.
He spots a lavender lady in his peripheral vision but before he can say hello or even chew the remaining blades of grass in his mouth, she stops the small rabbits hearts and they disintegrate. He flicks his ear forward to her, black eyes a little more attentive and less than relaxed stance. Poor bunnies, was that his fate soon too, he wonders? Because he is a male, most emotion is lost on him but even still he tries to interpret the reason behind such slaughter the silver eyed mare has bestowed. "I'm Vaughan, does my potential murderer have a name? Although I hope that you'd consider me a horse instead of a rabbit, despite my ear predicament," he chuckles, heartily knowing well that his humor may be ill received and if so, what a way to die, am I right? He's unfamiliar with the new lands and so although her scent is distinct he cannot put a name to it, he will just label it as "woman who kills things' for now but he's sure it will be refiled later.
"Do you introduce yourself this way often or are you particularly upset today?" he didn't add the "I'm terrible at emotions, neither of my parents (though my father is unknown to me) were great at sharing - which is why he's alive to begin with. Drowned emotions and lover's rage, plus a little bit of taboo. Vaughan doesn't know why the lavender grey lady has crossed his path but perhaps it's a new path he's destined to take. Perhaps she was the thing he saw in the Tundra cave a few years ago as a colt, the black stallion had a darker outlook on things ever since that day.
Do you introduce yourself this way often, or are you particularly upset today?
No. Not particularly upset. Not Upset. Just a resting bitch face, and an enjoyment for the darker side of life. DW snorts out loud with the black stallion’s loose tongue. With barely a look, she rolled her eyes and reversed the rotting process on the rabbits, rewinding the clock, restarting their hearts, until they were back to bounding around the rabbit-eared stallion. “If you’d rather spend so much time with them, then there you go. Though I’d hope you consider a creature like you to be much more worthy of your time. But oh well—“ She blinked, her silver eyes shining grey fire with the anger that she had bothered to come this way at all. That he would be so… informal… and not even give his name. Well, it infuriated her. So much so that she willed the tips of those ears to begin that rotting process…
Just a little though. “I am Deathwish, and you were simply in my way.” She flips her tail and rolls her shoulders to display the curve of her hip to its best advantage. She is tall and strong like her father. Poised and lean like her mother. Perfection on four black legs, and her attitude says that she knows what she wants. She does not say that her interest in the clueless male is what brought her here in the first place. His interest was in his bunnies. Not in women.
She straightens her posture, and almost fluffs her hair. “What are you doing in the forest? The rabbits live that way. In the field, with all the other homeless sprites.”
06-24-2017, 02:05 PM (This post was last modified: 06-24-2017, 02:07 PM by vaughan.)
VAUGHAN
Testy, she is. His heart rate increases two-fold as she begins to singe his ears, his muscles tensing and his jaw locking...but no grimace or squint apparent on his face. He was born from two very stubborn people and has lived through more than a burnt ear - she would not get the satisfaction of pain being expressed. Once she stops, he looks at her with his champagne eyes beneath his own black forelock, "Were you jealous of a wittle wabbit? Call me Snow White, or Sir White if you will - all creatures are worth my time, especially those who don't have abilities to do harm beyond natural means to others," a small smile creeps upon his dark face, a nicker towards her as if to say 'lighten up, it's okay', but it doesn't last long - his smart mouth just digs the hole deeper, 'What a fitting name, at least the bunnies would think so - if you have a destination in mind, then proceed but as for myself, I'm just here because I have no where else to go." Homeless. He'd never thought of himself as such until now but as it stings, it occurs that is him in a nutshell.
"Perhaps I would visit there but I'm no show prize, I'm just a bastard stallion trying to live life in peace or whatever sounds good at the time," he turns his attention away from the bunnies and starts his trek back towards the meadow, looking over his shoulder if the hotheaded woman would be walking with him (or behind him, so she could watch him disintegrate) on the way. "Where is it you call home? You know, so I can be sure to stay within a certain radius if they have you patrolling the border. I'd like to live a few years longer," he jests, though he shouldn't - she as well as anyone else could kill him without getting a drop of blood at their feet. He was a fickle fellow, he almost took pride in his mortality and how painfully aware it would present itself in the coming years.
His mother would outlive him, his grandmother would outlive him, his sister and all the ones who he knew would outlive him and he was the youngest of them all. He's in no hurry to grow old but he's certainly starting to approach his prime and at this rate it will all be wasted.
Deathwish found herself quickly getting bored with this conversation. She was intrigued by his look--he had a quizzical brow and a beautiful face--but he seemed more intrigued by his bunnies and his seemingly self-inflicted sense of honor than in actually doing something worthwhile with a woman who might just happen to be interested in him.
In short, the man was clueless.
DW snorted slightly when he mentions a home. A question asked like man who is full off nobility. 'Ser White,' despite being entirely black, mocks her abilities and Deathwish cannot help but visibily--and dramatically--roll her eyes at him. "I have not deigned to join them," she says haugtily, her eyes looking past her companion for any interesting bodies to talk to. Anyone else to talk to. "For someone who seems to be so desperate for a home, the irony that will not follow the bunnies to the field seems a bit...well, odd, actually." She snorts at Ser White.
For someone who wants to live bit longer, you certainly have alot of cheek, Ser White." She furrows her eyes and shutters her emotions, taking a step towards him, daring him to come closer. Daring him to do anything of interest to her. Anything that wouldn't entice her to rip his every organ from his body and leave it in a stinking pile of rot to be attacked by the bunnies he loved so well.
