"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
Somehow, it’s no surprise that he had ended up here. Even as young as he is, he’d recognized the hand the fates had served him. And unfortunately, it was not to be the coddled prince.
He doesn’t cry out for his mother. She might hear him, but he is certain she wouldn’t care. He is certain she wouldn’t return. Indeed, he is lucky to have even made it here, a haven in and of itself for the young and the hopeless. For the children like him, abandoned and unwanted.
How many of them never find a mother to love them? Too many, he is sure. The place reeks of desperation and hopelessness.
In that moment, he is decided. Young, abandoned, without love or future or family, he is decided. He would make his own destiny. He would make his own path in life, regardless of where that might lead him. Regardless of what he had to do to get there. For now though, he knows he must wait. He must practice patience, because he cannot survive on his own out there. Not yet at least. The moment he could, watch out world. But for now, he would wait. He would simply persevere.
Stumbling forward, the small colt, all pale skin and gangly legs with short tufts for mane and tail that glimmer silver in the dim light, finds himself a cozy nook. A space he might sleep, wile away his hours in peaceful slumber. A place to wait, a place to grow.
And, if he were very lucky, a place he might be found.
and weep like gods
@[Heda] sorry, it's kind of a crummy post. Still trying to feel him out D:
It isn't often that she is drawn into the den, for in fact this was once her home ever so long ago, and although being here in her childhood did bring her great sorrows, as she was forgotten just like the many children whom find themselves here. She can't help herself, as if a singular thread within her mind was snagged, caught upon something, or perhaps someone.
Her gaze flickers about curiously, as she enters the silent atmosphere, where only her own footsteps could be heard through the den. To her surprise, and relief children were scarce around here, she was glad to know at least parents had taken the responsibility to care for their children, but eventually something catches her eye.
The smallest movement of something silver, and as she nears she realizes, that that something was a petite boy, probably only a couple days of age. He lay dormant, head bowed as if he were dozing off, but his poor mind was wide awake. She could sense his feelings, of being lost, yet still determined, and as she came closer she couldn't help herself. Gingerly, she projected the smallest hint of joy on him in a hope to boost his spirits.
Her golden cranium lowers, as she stands before him, navy whisps of mane filtering down her neck, as she peers down at him. Nostrils gently flaring, and intaking his sent as she gently brushed her blue velvet muzzle against his side, as if to say "Come on up.". Her feathered appendages fitter at her sides, as faint maternal instincts press against her mind. "Hello there. Where is your mother little one?" She coos, with honey dipped words. Hazel gaze honed in upon him, as she felt the smallest hint of pity finding it's way into her heart.
He was just like her, at that age lost and alone, yet ever so determined to find someone, to find a family. Her heart feels for him, and she yearns to help, her muzzle still remaining close to him, and gently lipping at his withers in a hesitant affection towards the colt. "I'm Heda, would you care to share a name?" She murmurs, her tail whisking at her hocks.
Go ahead. Laugh at the girl that loved to easily
html by call
@[Ravan] I hope she isn't too forward, but she is the motherly type. <3
He holds hope close to his breast, though perhaps not like so many other children do. It is not the hope for family that fuels the fire of his soul, but hope for his future. Hope for what he might do, what he might become. He believes in himself, even if no one else would. Though he would not be opposed to love, the warmth and support a family could provide, it is not what drives him.
But as though it were writ it in the stars, it seems he is not to be left alone for long. He is not to be simply another pathetic, lonely soul longing for what he cannot have (even if he refuses to be such a thing in the light of such a daunting future. But he is only a child, so what does he truly know?).
Slowly, almost unnoticeably, joy settles in his breast alongside the hope and determination that fill his small body. A trickle of happiness that tickles his skin and brings his head up. Blinking silvery eyes somewhat sleepily, his pale gaze jumps up, landing upon the golden mare with the navy tresses. He stares at her in silent incomprehension for a long moment as she steps near, her head dropping until it is level with him. The gentle brush of her muzzle against the pale skin of his thin barrel stirs him back to reality, as though the truth of the situation has abruptly clicked into place.
Where is your mother, little one? she murmurs, and for moment Ravan can only shake his head, as though the simple motion were answer enough. Finally though, he finds his voice, soft yet surprisingly bold, a faint hint of belligerence coloring the tone (the better to hide the pain of abandonment). “I have no mother.”
As though he had simply been created from air and dust.
Heda. That’s her name, a fact he carefully files away just in case. But then she is asking his name, and he is glancing away uncertainly. In truth, he had not been given a name. He had chosen one for himself, but he worries for a moment that it will not sound real. That perhaps she will be able to tell it is made up. But then the determination that has fueled him this long comes bubbling to the surface and his stormy gaze is finding hers. “Ravan,” he says, as confidently as he can manage. “My name is Ravan.”
She grins at his response, as she was just like him at that age. She felt for him knowing, the feelings that were caving in within his mind. The little lad deserved better, just like she had deserved and received when she was a child. She was integrated into a family that soon grew larger every day, but it was family, she had a title the protection of a mother and father, perhaps she could provide such to this boy.
His words are strong, and she can feel every emotion spilling out of his lips, and so he expels his name. Ravan, a very suitable name for strong, handsome colt like him."Well Ravan it's a pleasure to meet you." Her gaze flickers, curiously, what would Ivar think if she brought this boy home, if she became the mother to this sweet child, would he too adore him as she already did? She glances about pondering for a moment, before brushing her muzzle against hime once more.
"Ravan, what would you say, if I could give you a home, and a family with a mother and father to love you?" She smiles, awaiting for his reaction to finds it's way to his facial features. Would it be joy? Would he ecstatic? Would he leap? Or would he decline? All these thoughts flew through her minds, as the words were spoken slow and sweet. All she wanted to know was if she'd be returning back to queendom, with a little prince at her side.
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