"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
-----------she lost him but she found herself, --------------------and somehow, that was everything
The winter was coming to an end, and a mild one at that. Soon enough it would be spring, and then they would be easing into summer. Summer had always been her favorite season, for as long as she could remember. If she closed her eyes, it was almost as if she was home again. A warm breeze ruffled through her coat, the heat seeped into her bones, and she could almost taste the grit of sand crunching between her teeth. She is lovely, as lovely as she has ever been; the low winter sun brings out hidden highlights in her amber-colored eyes and casts a rosy, rather ethereal glow about her form.
The mare hovers, perched on the edge of the meadow as if unsure whether to enter or to slink off into the shadowy trees, unnoticed. After a short pause, she lifts one delicate hoof, teeters in indecision for a moment and then leans forward, moving down the hill with an easy gait. It has been a long time since she has been a part of this world, but time means little to her. As the expression goes, she has all the time in the world, so why keep track of whether days or years have expired?
With her absence, the meadow is slightly unfamiliar to her, and her dappled ears are perked with intrigue and observation and, yes, a hint of caution. Once she had been a Queen, strolling through Beqanna as if it had been laid at her feet, but now she was simply a mare, one who recognized very few faces and even fewer names. She does not necessarily feel lonely, but she does not fool herself into thinking that any of the friends she used to have will be here now.
Perhaps that was to be the cadence of her life from now on; live in Beqanna for a while, make friends and family and loved ones, then leave for just enough time that no one would recognize her, then come back and pretend as if she was a newcomer to this world. It sounded to her a perfectly good plan; build a life, leave when it got painful, then come back and start building all over again. Some might call it cowardice, and they would probably be right, but the dappled girl couldn't bring herself to care.
And so she stands alone, long grass tickling her belly, offering up the new course of her life to fate. Last time in Beqanna, she had been ambitious, determined, she had seen what she wanted and taken it, and where had that gotten her? Deceit, heartbreak, jealousy, almost-war. No, this time she would see what life had in store for her, and she would be happy and enjoy the ride. She smiles to no one in particular, and waits with a bubbling curiosity to see who would approach her.
when i was drowning, that's when i could finally breathe
Nayl has often wondered if that is to be her life – develop her place in Beqanna, disappear, then return years later – or if she will one day meet her end. Will Castile and Isobell witness the fall of their mother? Will Lior embrace her one last time or will their love last an eternity like their immortality?
A knot forms in her chest – an unfamiliar sensation – but it dissipates as a wintry gust sinks its claws into her skin, reminding her of where she is.
There are no taverns here that she can find shelter within from wind and snow. Here, in the field, there is a vulnerability that she almost loathes as her eyes trace along the curious faces hidden among the tall grass. She is exposed entirely. There is no seclusion, no escape from prying eyes. Over her shoulder she looks in the direction of her home, reflecting on the tall grass, the dunes, the cliffside, but then she is looking ahead again and sees a mare colored like the dappled moonlight.
Their lives are separated by decades but no one would be able to know by looking at them. Their faces are as youthful as they were three. Nayl reaches her with eyes lit by an inner flame. ”Hello,” she says with an easy coolness, ”I’m Nayl .” The mare has eyes that drink in the scenery but not with entire innocence. It has some amount of familiarity, but the faeries had churned their world and recreated it into something entirely new. ”You don’t act like you’re new to Beqanna, but perhaps a stranger to this new world.” A pause to enable a keen observance. ”Where did you live before?”
-----------she lost him but she found herself, --------------------and somehow, that was everything
The dappled mare is caught in a daydream; her eyes are open, but she is not focused on any of her surroundings. It is as if she is in another place and time all together, remembering Beqanna as it was when she first found this land many, many years ago. She thinks of the horses she knew back then, friends, lovers, even a few enemies. Moriarty, Starlace, Infection, Lacrimo, Ferras… Where were they now? What had been their fate? Were some of them still here, in this new version of her old home? Maybe some of them had done like she had, left Beqanna and started a new life somewhere else. Had some passed on? Surely some had; not everyone she knew then had possessed her gift of longevity.
An icy gust of wind jolts her from her thoughts and she glances around quickly, a bit startled. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, and for the first time she truly feels like a stranger in what used to be her home. The Meadow she stands in is the same, yet different, as is the air all around her. It tastes different, smells different, feels different, as winter runs its frozen fingers through the tendrils of her mane. She knows not of what has transpired since she has been gone, but it is obvious that it was momentous. Elouise is not unaware of the fact that this land is not your typical plot of dirt; it is alive, it has a mind of its own. Sometimes, it is angered by its inhabitants and it lashes out. When the dappled mare had first found her way to Beqanna, the ground had heaved and the three kingdoms had been ripped apart into six. Did those lands, her old home and the others, even still exist? She wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was no.
Horses dot the landscape before her, even in the cold of winter, and she watches them silently. She observes as they interact with each other, and she imagines their relationships to each other and the conversations they are having. The bay pegasus and the dun mare who were huddled together and speaking in hushed tones, were they perhaps lovers being reunited after one had been stolen away to a rival kingdom? Or simply acquaintances hoping to ward off the cold with some shared body heat? Was there some epic back-story of love and loss and yearning, or were they just meeting for the first time?
The sound of hooves crunching through snow nearby steals her attention from the mystery couple, and she sees a mare covered in splotches of smoky black and white making her way over. Elouise offers a soft smile, acknowledging her companion's name with a dip of her head. "I'm Elouise." Should she be concerned that Nayl seems to read her so easily? There's that word again. Stranger. Once upon a time she ruled over a chunk of this land, now she is just another unknown face passing through the Meadow. Nayl asks about her previous home, and Elouise is once again hit with a wave of nostalgia; she can practically taste the sand in her mouth as she answers, "I used to live in the Dewdrop Deserts. Do you know of it?" She is unaware that the kingdoms she knows are long gone, that the woman she is talking to is a Queen, but she holds onto a sliver of hope.
when i was drowning, that's when i could finally breathe
