"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
Here, the river was deep and quiet. Much of this river was festering rapids, but there were a few places where they water flowed lazily. This is where Levi had spent his morning. Neck deep in the cool water.
Despite the encroaching summer heat his body is chilled, but he is enjoying the new sensation. It had taken a long time for the chilly waters to strip his outer layers of hide and muscle of their warmth, but despite his bulk the ever-moving waters had slowly and steadily swept away the warmth his body created, on the outside at least.
She was quieter today. The fire in his rib cage. Maybe the swirl of the water around his legs and chest, over his back, clawing up his crested neck, quieted her. Whatever the reason, her absence had given him time to think. His new acquaintances (The certainly could not be called friends) filtered through his mind. The injured boy who could manipulate water, and seemed to be made of similar fabric as Levi. Iset, the slim big mouth girl who at least was brave even if she was a brat. Kolera, who was only a child but had the unique power to pull the life from living plants. And the pretty blue woman, who he had chased away with his fire before he knew anything about her.
He sinks lower in the water. Only his ivory nostrils, the bridge of his nose and his eyes above the surface, almost reptilian.
He wanted to bring them all together. Not to talk, no he hated small talk. To act... to do something. Levi wasn’t going to lurk in the forest and river for the rest of eternity. Together they formed a small force, would they come together? He would have to return to the forest. Not much time had passes between each of his initial encounter, it was likely they still were in the area.
A snap of a branch, a flash of color? His mismatched eyes dart to the grassland above the riverbank, then to the stand of old trees farther up. He will have to continue his plotting later. The dark stallion does not rise from the water. Someone was out there.
Somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I.
For a while, she can’t even think. Can barely breath for all that she tries. Her life, until now, had been perfect. Idealistic and happy and simple. Cruelty had simply not existed. Or rather, it had existed, but she had not seen it. She had so happily worn her rose colored glasses, continuing on in joyful oblivion.
Only now does she realize what bliss it had been.
But she does not want to think about. She cannot think about, lest she shatter into a thousand pieces right there in the midst of the trees. In her heartbreak, she has no heed for her direction, no thought but that she must get away. That she must run, find what is left of her self and her dignity, before her very essence bleeds out before her eyes.
For a time, she feels almost empty, as though the world has no meaning (what meaning is there, when nothing is as you thought it was?). It is only as she breaks through the trees that she realizes she is not empty, but far too full. Her emotions had risen, expanding, pushing and pinching until the pain had given way to numbness. It is only when that bubble is ready to burst that she knows she is not empty at all.
A broken sob escapes her lips, her eyes squeezing shut as she fights the tears that cannot be held in check. Fights them until she realizes the futility, until she realizes the salty liquid is leaving tracks in the blue skin of her small, fine features anyway. Only then does she allow the sobs to come, burying her head in the lee of a tree to muffle the sound. She does not notice the rough bark of the tree against her tender skin, the scrape of a sharp edge when she moves too quickly, drawing a line of blood across the delicate bone of one cheek.
When finally she feels as though nothing more can possibly come, she breathes deeply, a heavy, hiccuping sigh that settles the quivering of her shoulders and halts the flow of tears from her eyes. After a moment, she turns and continues on. Continues until she stumbles almost unseeingly upon a river. It is only when the cool water touches her coronet that she realizes where she has come. For a moment, she simply stares at the water. Stares as though her reflection might peer back at her despite the churning of the chilly liquid.
Only after a long moment does it occur to her that she might use this opportunity to clean up. To wash the telltale signs of tears from her eyes and the stench of hellhound from her bluebell skin. Glancing up as she moves to step into the water, she catches sight of a face upon the water. A face whose body appears to be missing. “Oh,” is all she can think to say as shock rounds her eyes and freezes her small hoof only inches from the trembling water.
He likes the feeling of watching the pretty girl, unseen. It’s a feeling like keeping a secret, exciting and empowering. She approaches the river and he wonders what it would like to have the gift of invisibility – exciting he was sure, but he wouldn’t trade his fire for anything.
Her toes are in the water when she halts. Her gaze is pulled down, and she stands seemingly mesmerized by the tranquil waters she finds there. “Oh,” she says, like a little bird. His peculiar eyes meet hers - round and glimmering with unspent tears. He lowers his neck and sinks below the surface, bubbling. He almost laughs at the awkwardness of the moment, not bothering to hide his amusement where only the fish could see him. Maugrim comes to mind and Levi wonders what the colt who could control water would do in this situation. Probably pull her in and swim away. Probably what he should do. But Levi was curious, time would tell if that was a flaw or a virtue.
Levi smooths his features, again putting on the face of the stoic before surfacing slightly downstream. He takes a step towards the shore, river water streaming down his exposed neck and face. His inky black eye watches her without emotion. He notes the similarity of their coats, even if the colors are night and day the patterns matched.
He should probably say something, but nothing comes to mind and he doesn’t bother to hunt for the perfect witty words. Her dainty face is marked with the leavings of fallen tears, on her check a droplet of blood perches, set like a ruby against the blue of her skin. The red of that ruby keeps him there, observing her. It isn’t in his nature to comfort; the thought doesn’t even cross his mind. Compassion was not one of the gift he had been given at birth. Not to say he was wicked like some others, but he was selfish, powerful and beautiful in his own dark way. Such a combination would make most young stallions lean towards egotistical.
But he did not think so much of himself that he would prefer to hear his own voice over another's. When he let others speak first her tended to learn more, let her control the flow, he had all the time in the world.
What he lacks in compassion, in kindness and empathy and everything good, she more than makes up for. It is the reason she had gotten herself into this terrible mess, the reason she had been such an easy, tempting target. It had never before occurred to her to think badly of anyone. She had not been able to imagine the terrible things that exist in this world.
Her mother had warned her of course. She had seen and she had known. But her mother sees everything. To Rapture’s youthful mind, her mother’s knowledge and power is both vast and nearly incomprehensible. Even her father holds her mother in awe (he doesn’t know she knows, but she sees things too, even if she doesn’t always understand them).
But this is too much, even for her boundless tolerance.
Ducking her head, she rubs her tear-streaked face against one knee, forgetting for a moment that she needn’t do so. That she has much more effective ways of stifling the terrible portrait she must make.Gentle and kindhearted she might be, but even young Rapture has her vanities. In that, Levi is most certainly not alone.
Blinking eyes the color of a wintry blue sky, Rapture avoids his gaze as she extends her sight and finds his. It is not often she has done this, and she barely resists the urge to apologize to him for her intrusion. Fortunately all it takes is a very simple tweak, one that hides her stained face, replacing it with the familiar blue and ivory features, soft and serene and quietly lovely. And entirely devoid of blemishes or signs of distress.
With a muted, shaky sigh she drags her reluctant gaze up to find his, earnestly searching his dual toned eyes before whispering, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Dropping her gaze once more, she glances hastily away. “I can go if you want.”
She doesn’t wish to be alone, not now. Not with the memories tugging so adamantly at her soul. But she would leave if he wished. She has no desire to disturb him if he had come here to be alone.
there is a pulse that echoes of you and I
I hope this is ok <3 please let me know if it isn't and I'll change it
The robust stallion continues to watch her, not feeling anything at the sight of her obvious distress. She reaches her face to her knee to wipe her own tears, and still he feels nothing. But he recognizes his lack of empathy, he understands he feels other where others would sympathize. Is this better or worse? Was he broken or extraordinary?
Levi’s thoughts are interrupted as has a feeling like he has been starting at his fire too long- his eyes dry out and he blinks hard to clear them. When he again finds her face, it is fresh and bright, very different from the sad creature he had just been observing. The little ruby, which had held his attention, is gone. Her face is a perfect and unmarked, unfeeling and empty, yet beautiful.
The deception causes the heat twists inside of his chest cavity, along with his anger. He narrows his eyes and unconsciously his ears pin back. His mother had told him the stage abilities of other horses were vast and varied, and clearly one was at work now.
Once again, her light voice fills the air, some apologetic words. Some timid words, humble words. Words better left unspoken- he had no use for them. If he wished to be alone he wouldn’t still be here. She would know when she was no longer wanted.
Her mysterious action had made him angry, but he didn’t mind being angry. He accepted his anger… fury and fire were synonymous.
It gave him passion where otherwise he would only have complacency.
Levi begins to move in the direction of the sky-blue mare, with each step towards the shore his dark body seems to grow larger. The water splashes in waves from the forceful action of his legs as he draws himself up. With his long strides, it doesn’t take long for him to reach the dainty mare.
“I liked you better the other way.” He reaches is pale muzzle towards her, his lips just barely parting as he draws the scent over his tongue. There he tastes the metallic goodness of the unseen blood. He leans in placing his mouth as close as she will tolerate, tasting the salt and blood in the air. “I can still smell the blood.” His ragged voice comes out in a whisper, as the space between then is nearly nonexistent nothing more is required. “I can go if you want.” Her soft words echoe in his mind.
“You shouldn’t care about what I want,” his only reply to her lost statement. He is about to turn and leave, like he had done in so many of his other encounters. But something holds him there, breathing in the scents of her body.
“What is it that you want?”
Levi
so scream you, out from behind the bitter ache.
Don't change a thing! Let her use it as much as she wants <3
It hurts to feel this much, to know pain and suffering in the wake of kindness. It hurts to know the world is not what she had thought, not what she had expected. Perhaps it would be easier to feel nothing, to know little else but emptiness. The way that her heart squeezes now inside her chest cannot possibly be worse than the void of emotionlessness.
Alas, she is doomed to never know. Her sight might venture and seek and shift, but her heart would always be hers alone.
Never has it occurred to her though, that her small bit of meddling might anger him so. That he would prefer her face bloody and tear streaked, so much less than the delicate perfection it could be. But that is not what causes her wariness as he approaches, the way her head falls slightly, her shoulders hunching just a bit as though she is trying to hide from his advance. No, it is the memories that do that, the thought of cruel words and the striking thud of flesh against flesh. The bruises are not visible against the blue of her skin, but they are there, throbbing with memory as he comes closer.
She does not retreat though. Despite the mildness of her demeanor, the meekness of her words, there is bravery there. Deeply hidden, but bolstering her spine with steel. She is her mother’s daughter, after all. So she peers at him through her lashes, watching the way water sluices from the brown and white and black of his skin, the way his ears press against his crest, his eyes now blazing at her with fiery heat. She might be scared, but she is also curious. Faintly intrigued by the young stallion and his odd behavior.
Barely repressing the flinch, she holds herself still as he presses his lips unerringly to the small wound she hadn’t realized adorns her face. For a moment, she forgets to breath, a shudder passing along her spine as she presses her eyes closed. Her throat feel tight, the words stuck there until she abruptly draws in a sharp breath.
Swallowing, she opens her eyes again, peering at him with that pale blue gaze, notes of nervousness and curiosity and an innate warmth glittering there. Her mouth opens, closes, as she considers his words. The question that almost seems odd coming from him.
But he had asked her want she wants - such an easy question with an equally easy answer - so she puts shyness aside. He hadn’t moved away from her, and that is all the invitation she needs. Pressing closer, until blue nearly melds with bay, she places a hesitant touch against his neck, breathing in his warm scent heavily laden with the more earthy notes of the river. “I want a friend.” she finally replies, her voice nearly inaudible over the sounds of rushing water and the rustling of animals in the nearby trees.
06-09-2017, 07:34 PM (This post was last modified: 06-09-2017, 07:38 PM by Levi.)
His closeness seems to cause a slight change in her. Levi may not be able to sympathize with the emotions of others, but he wasn’t blind to the signs of them. Her head dips, her shoulders fall, she seems to sink into herself, collapsing, barricading her heart from the dragon who taunts the damsel.
Regardless, he presses his lips to her cheek, she does not waiver like he assumes she will. He is expecting her to wield her magic in defense then, he braces himself for it, but instead he feels her shudder under his touch. A small movement, so subtle yet powerful. It awakens something in his belly, a type of ember he has never felt before. The heat from his anger melts, melts into his guts, where this new feeling lurks.
He gently pulls the blue skin under his mouth between his teeth, careful not to damage the already slightly broken skin. Iron and salt overwhelm his taste and he pulls back slightly, content with this small prize.
He didn’t think that shudder was fear.
Her body prepares for movement and he is surprised when instead of adding to the distance between them she reduces it. For the first time in his life a mare brings herself next to him, pressing into his side the same way he had seen his mother comfort his father so many times before. Her strength is not aggressive, not boastful, but it is there. She is warm against his cold, river soaked skin. Warm in a way completely different from his fire, gentle yet steadfast - burning with the only sort of fire he had no knowledge of, yet burning all the same. He doesn’t realize she hasn’t been breathing until she draws in a sharp breath. Her blue eyes hold a look he is not used to seeing, one he is not quite sure how to interpret.
“I want a friend.” Her mouth moves and his eyes glide down from her heavy lases to her lips. Her words are pure and simple, far from what he was expecting. To him, her straightforward answer is more mystifying than any shrouded flirtation or snide comment. She is confusing him at every step.
She may be blue, white, and soft like the sky, but she was made of iron and salt – and something about that combination left his legs motionless.
He searches for his own words then, but he finds nothing. A friend? Where is the line between friend and acquaintance anyway?
She had taken his anger, his fire is quiet, and he is at a loss for what to do with this statement she had given him. He had asked the question in the first place, but now he is disappointingly unequiped to continue the conversation.
He feels wholly not himself. A shiver shakes his shoulders, despite the mellow warmth of summer. The hours spent in the chilling water had cooled him more than he realized; now that it was clear there would be no fight between the two strangers his limbs seemed almost numb.
Levi pulls away from her then. Early on in his life he had decided he would lean on no one else. To work with, to cooperate with an ally, that was different. The way he wished to lean into her, to feel her, made him feel unsettled. He didn’t want to be warmed, comforted, soothed, pacified. And he wasn’t capable of giving – or he didn’t want to believe himself capable of giving.
So, he walked into the sun, out from under the dappled light into a place where the sand was warm and laid down with a grunt. He could have used his fire in some way, but he would rather just take in the warmth given by the god of fire. He looks to her, still as unsure as a colt, but trying not to show it.
She cannot quite say how it is so, but she is suddenly very certain that he is not emotionless at all. That the cool unaffectedness he portrays is very much like her mother’s. Perhaps he does not feel like she does, perhaps the woes of the world cannot hurt his heart like it does hers, but he feels. And she would venture to guess he feels intensely. He just doesn’t wish to admit it.
It is the hazard of calling one like her friend. She is apt to see far more than might have been intended. With her ability to mold sight like clay comes a certain familiarity, a familiarity which allows her to pick up on things that others might miss.
She would never say such things, of course. Her natural discretion would never allow it. In that respect, she is very, very different from her parents. Her heart is too soft, too giving, too kind. She could never use what she has learned against others, not like they could. So even though she can almost feel his bewilderment, she does nothing more than tuck that small piece of information safely away, one small secret that would remain between them. Instead she presses close, freely sharing her warmth, heedless of the cool water dampening her coat where their skin meets. Instead she rubs her muzzle against his slick coat, the blue velvet tender as she gently caresses his darker skin.
She doesn’t say a word when he withdraws, pulling away without any response to her soft declaration. She hadn’t truly expected him to. She had no inkling of whether he truly wished to be a friend to her when she uttered the words, so she could not blame him if he chose to reject her offer.
When he doesn’t leave, she is slightly surprised, her wide, pale gaze following him to where he stops in a bright ray of sunlight. Instead of fleeing her good, if ill-thought, intentions, he only distances himself. As though he merely needs space to think. And maybe he does. She had been rather bold in her assertions.
After a moment of quietly considering him, she follows. Slipping alongside him, close but not touching, she allows the sun to warm her blue skin, to highlight the white lacing intricate patterns through the periwinkle. As she edges forward, she brushes her muzzle almost hesitantly along his shoulder, a silent inquiry. Finally, she murmurs, “You don’t have to say anything, but will you stay? Please?” The last is exhaled on a breath, more air than sound, as though she is afraid to ask it.
For a moment, he watches her watch him. But soon it is too much, Levi doesn’t trust he precarious mask of stoicism, and he quickly turns his head towards the river. Who is this girl who has fractured his iron guard?
She is behind him now, but he can feel her eyes on his back, along his neck, where they warm him.
The word friend continues to echo between his ears as he stares blindly across the river. The faces of his childhood acquaintances filter through his mind and he feels nothing for them - Levi had left Tephra last fall without a second look back for any of them.
Ashamed of the thought before it even fully forms, he quickly wonders if he could call Maugrim a friend. But Levi considered the relationship he had with the green and pearlescent colt to be more of a hesitant companionship or a strangely apt compatibility which inclined them to each other, rather than friendship. But maybe that was just a complicated way saying they were friends. But in the back of his mind, whenever he was with Maugrim, he knew the colt was capable of great violence. Was that something all friends worried about while walking together on a forest path?
There is a noise behind him as the blue mare begins to move in his direction, he's content that for a moment he seems to have forget about her. The magic she was working on him may not be stronger than his resolve after all.
But his satisfaction is fleeting and quickly replaced with tension as she draws up beside him. Her velvet muzzle connects with his shoulder, and involuntarily his own lips reach to the soft muscles of his chest, leaving behind a spot of blood on his ivory skin. Embarrassed by the display of his nervous habit, he refuses to make eye contact with her as her voice vibrates softy in the space between them.
Her words are once again gentle and non-exacting - she only asks of him to do what he is already doing. With a sigh, he lets his heavy skull fall onto the riverbank. He's relieved that she does not press her side into his again, that would have required a reaction. He submits to her proximity and whatever comfort he seems to be giving her. This is where I’m staying and she can do what she wants. He thinks.
Not admitting to himself that the more of him wants to stay than leave.
06-15-2017, 03:13 PM (This post was last modified: 06-15-2017, 03:15 PM by Rapture.)
Rapture
somewhere between the sand and the stardust
When he doesn’t leave, doesn’t abandon her to her pain and loneliness, she can feel a faint joy, an optimism, stealing over her. A welcome warmth that floods her veins and brings just a hint of brightness to the blue of her features. And when he doesn’t withdraw again, doesn’t flinch from her hesitant touch, she is emboldened. A tiny flower seeking its ray of light, petals spreading, showing the truth of its beauty.
She is that flower and he the sun.
Not that she would ever say such things. She could never be so bold, not in word.
When his neck flexes, muzzle briefly touching the ridges of chest, she instinctively presses closer. Her lips trace from shoulder to neck, feeling the tenseness of the muscles there, the quiver of uncertainty. She rubs gently against the soft, sleek hair, as though her soft, unassuming touch could ease the strain and tension from his larger frame.
For a moment, just a moment, she is tempted to curl into him, to let her touch explore, to find the dot of red on his chest and rub it away. But she is not brave enough. Instead she remains silent, allowing her softer, smaller form to ease against him, inch by infinitesimal inch. A tender touch that seeks to do nothing more than offer solace and solidarity.
