02-02-2018, 09:14 PM
hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
The storm comes quickly, so quickly. One moment he is basking in the sunshine that filters down through the trees, standing on the cliff above the waterfall he guards in the depths of the jungle like a precious thing. It is precious, to him; it is like a slice of his past and it is something he needs. It, as much as anything else, holds him to Ischia. He cannot lose this slice of his history; it is the only thing in the new world that reminds him of the old world.
But the dark clouds roll in and cover his sunshine - but he can't see them. He just feels the chill as the sun fades away, and he frowns because unless he seriously lost track of time he should have hours left of warm dappled sunlight reflecting off the top of the waterfall. Sudden winds follow the shift towards darkness, ruffling his feathers and tangling his mane and tail. This gets his attention and the stallion turns his face to the tree canopy and the sky beyond, frowning. He's not lived an entire season yet in Ischia but this seems unnatural. Straining towards the sky he opens his wings, preparing to take-off, because Brennen does his best investigating from the sky. Two powerful strokes of his wings lifts him into the air and he is heading towards a large break in the canopy when the driving rain starts, and a buffet of wind strong enough to knock him off course almost throws him into the nearest tree.
That makes it time for plan b. Brennen is old enough to know when the conditions are not favorable for flying. The bay stallion makes an ungrateful emergency landing, fighting the powerful winds with every heartbeat, and folds his wings to reduce his air resistance as he makes his way into the largest cave he has found in his explorations, the one nestled half behind and just to the side of the waterfall. That's where he hunkers down to wait out the storm, tucked out of the reach of the storm as it rages outside, loud enough that he wonders if the world is ending again.
He isn't sure he can start again. If Beqanna falls to ruin again, he may be lost. There has to be something salvageable about Ischia at the end of this (and it better be the waterfall nestled in the jungle) or Brennen might finally end.
It feels like hours later (but it might only be minutes) when the other stallion stumbles into the cave, reeking of blood and seawater. Trying not to startle him, Brennen nickers lowly, reaching out to press his muzzle gently to the other man's neck in an attempt to reassure. He recognizes the stallion despite the mess the storm has made of him, though they haven't officially met. "Crazy storm," he says wryly, "You okay?"
But the dark clouds roll in and cover his sunshine - but he can't see them. He just feels the chill as the sun fades away, and he frowns because unless he seriously lost track of time he should have hours left of warm dappled sunlight reflecting off the top of the waterfall. Sudden winds follow the shift towards darkness, ruffling his feathers and tangling his mane and tail. This gets his attention and the stallion turns his face to the tree canopy and the sky beyond, frowning. He's not lived an entire season yet in Ischia but this seems unnatural. Straining towards the sky he opens his wings, preparing to take-off, because Brennen does his best investigating from the sky. Two powerful strokes of his wings lifts him into the air and he is heading towards a large break in the canopy when the driving rain starts, and a buffet of wind strong enough to knock him off course almost throws him into the nearest tree.
That makes it time for plan b. Brennen is old enough to know when the conditions are not favorable for flying. The bay stallion makes an ungrateful emergency landing, fighting the powerful winds with every heartbeat, and folds his wings to reduce his air resistance as he makes his way into the largest cave he has found in his explorations, the one nestled half behind and just to the side of the waterfall. That's where he hunkers down to wait out the storm, tucked out of the reach of the storm as it rages outside, loud enough that he wonders if the world is ending again.
He isn't sure he can start again. If Beqanna falls to ruin again, he may be lost. There has to be something salvageable about Ischia at the end of this (and it better be the waterfall nestled in the jungle) or Brennen might finally end.
It feels like hours later (but it might only be minutes) when the other stallion stumbles into the cave, reeking of blood and seawater. Trying not to startle him, Brennen nickers lowly, reaching out to press his muzzle gently to the other man's neck in an attempt to reassure. He recognizes the stallion despite the mess the storm has made of him, though they haven't officially met. "Crazy storm," he says wryly, "You okay?"
hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
BRENNEN