"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
heir breaths form dragon-puffs of fog as they walk. It’s nearly early evening but the sun is still shining just enough light to reflect off the snow, causing their surroundings to glisten like stardust. It’s gotten colder since they left the protection of the forests and the winter breeze now slices through Wound’s thin coat as though it were nothing. The same breeze stirs the top layer of snow from the drifts they weave around.
Wishbone had been racing ahead of her parents as they moved between Sylva and Taiga’s borders, but now that they are out in the open the yearling pulls herself back to walk beside her father. She is still full of energy, practically vibrating against Warrick’s wings. Although the wind is bitter on her skin, the prospect of meeting a queen her own age and visiting a new kingdom makes the chill bearable.
“Here we are,” Wound’s voice rises above the hush of the breeze in their ears. The scents of Loess are strong now as they reach the border. She can remember the smell of the kingdom from the underlying scent on Imperial and Deiti when they visited Tephra. Wishbone attempts to cross the border, anxious to meet whoever lives in this part of Beqanna, but Wound noses her daughter away with a stern expression. “You know better, Wishbone.”
A huffy sigh leaves the girl’s throat (teenagers, am I right?) before she wheels back to nestle herself against the warmth of Warrick’s right wing. With that, Wound turns back to let out a friendly call for Imperial and anyone else he might bring by.
03-13-2018, 12:15 PM (This post was last modified: 03-13-2018, 12:15 PM by Imperial.)
Son of a Red Eyed Ghost
It had been months since he had returned home. The crisp fall air was now harsh almost with the coming of winter. Growing their coats shaggy. The promise of Spring was fast approaching though. Only the nights were bitter now. When the morning sun found them again, vapored breaths curled about their faces, but as the suns rays warmed them the haze puffs disappeared.
He enjoyed the variety of seasons very much. Knowing it was only a matter of time before spring gave them new growth of plants and new foals. He himself was expecting to welcome a child this year. It would be his first child by blood but Deiti and Embark would always remain his children. Nothing could change that.
Just outside of his quaint cavern home, his ears find a call in the air. A greeting and he can't help but feel he is wanted for this visit. So with a lazy shake of his still body and a parting farewell to his very pregnant partner, he begins the journey across his homeland...
A scent of sulfur fills his senses. Pausing for a moment, he placing the smell of the volcanic island kingdom. A smile is brought to his lips as again steps forward. Drawing nearer with each stride until the figures of Wound and Warrick come into view. From atop a rolling knoll he calls out a greeting before approaching.
A new and younger equine catches his attention briefly as he comes to stand before them. His gentle tone carries a welcoming, "It is good to see you again! Welcome to Loess... Who is this?" His icey gaze finds the young one nestled beside Warrick...
The bitterness of winter bites into the sleek-coats of the Tephrans, and Warrick is sure to keep both Wound and their daughter close to his side so they are able to keep warm. It is hard, though, with Wishbone running circles around them as each new scene sets her off onto a new venture, and Warrick can only smile knowingly at Wound when it occurs. She always returned to the warmth of his cobalt wing, but he realizes it is easier to let her go her own way and come back to him in her own terms.
Warrick has never visited Loess, but he remembers Ivar vividly and is curious to see if the white and black stallion that he had met (he had been so young then) is still residing here even with his daughter now ruling. Warrick is unsure of such a young queen, but he is also interested in seeing how the intricate details of it all worked, which is one reason he agreed to a simple visit with no obligation. Besides, he rather enjoyed the idea of Wishbone meeting other children, especially those who were not in Hyaline.
He laughs as Wound corrects their daughter, and when she looks to him he nods in agreement with her mother. It is not long before Warrick spies Imperial coming towards them. The stallion greets them warmly and Warrick acknowledges him with a deep nod of his head, turning to Wishbone and quietly ushering her forward with a brush of his wing against her back. “This is my daughter, Wishbone.”
“It is lovely here in Loess. Will anyone else be accompanying us today for a tour?”
Their individual scents are nearly masked by the potency of acrid smoke. It drifts along the spring breeze and grips desperately to the soft lining of Castile’s nostrils.
(Smoke)
(Fire)
The innate urge to find the source is overwhelming and lifts him from where he idly rested. Scales ripple down the length of his body as a deep want of the volcano surfaces, briefly clouding Castile’s better judgment. Every time he draws in a breath, he can only taste the residual aroma of Tephra. It’s the electricity to fuel his heart and his muscles as he takes to the sky.
What had once been blanketed by a layer of snow has since sprung into jaded patches of grass. Castile spares a glance to the ground below, but the Tephran’s are swarming through his mind and distract him from savoring the scenery below.
(Volcano)
It’s a distant idea as he soars silently above. Tephra is just past the sea with its titanic volcano tearing through the low-lying clouds. He could see it, touch it, smell it. Why does he feel like it’s a part of him?
Snorting, he makes a gradual descent, alighting a short distance from the small group. His mismatched eyes dance across the faces, fascinated by their arrival and comfort with Imperial. Setting aside all skepticism, he prowls toward them while his wings gingerly nestle against his sides. ”I’m Castile,” he doesn’t add who he is, what title he holds. The sense of responsibility is still so new and unfamiliar. Having a tag behind his name would taste too foreign on the edge of his tongue. ”I will join you, and Lepis hopefully soon.”
His head dips to the family. Grateful they had made the trip. Lowering his face to Wishbones level he greets her, "It's nice to meet you Wishbone." His head rises again as Warrick begins to speak of Loess. He was glad they liked it thus far. "I'm sure we will happen across Lepis at some point," his ears swivel to catch another noise nearing and his head turns at a voice. Uncertain if he's ever met the newcomer but the scent of Loess lingers still so it must be a resident. A name follows and he is quick to remember it, Castile. With a return of his gaze on the family, he smiles, "Well...Shall we?"
t isn’t long before Imperial arrives, though his daughter does not travel with him. Wound feels a tingle of disappointment — Deiti had seemed like a sweet, shy girl and she’s been looking forward to meeting her again and perhaps coaxing out a larger side to her. Nonetheless, a bright smile alights her face upon seeing the chocolatey-black stallion again and she dips her head in a brief greeting. “Imperial, thank you again for inviting us to Loess.”
At the nudge of her father, Wishbone steps forward. Although her parents know this stallion, she had not been at their initial meeting. Her amber eyes take in Imperial’s face and she’s about to speak when another member of Loess lands nearby. Wishbone isn’t overwhelmed by the amount of horses all clustered together, but she does step back against Warrick’s side once more. Despite her boisterous self, she wants to represent Tephra to the best of her ability.
“Hello, Castile.” The girl’s sable mouth moves into a bewilderingly wild smile. It’s one that would look dangerous on any other face, but fits perfectly into the adventure-lined creases of her own. “I’m Wishbone and these are my parents, Wound and King Warrick.” A blossom of pride works through Wound’s chest at her daughter’s appropriate introductions.
The silvery diplomat offers another generous smile, this time at Castile. At the mention of their tour beginning, Wound nods toward Imperial. “I’m anxious to see your kingdom,” she admits aloud. Her daughter departs from Warrick’s shoulder to move beside Imperial, only able to hold her diplomatic front together for so long. Although a million questions are brimming on her tongue, Wishbone reins herself in enough to ask one for now. “How long have both of you been living in Loess?”
Having spent most of the afternoon dozing, I'm ready for a long night of stargazing.
With my head pointed up, I stand at the peek of Loess' largest hill, a rocky outcropping near the southern border. In the distance, the glowing light of Tephra's magma is just beginning to be visible on the dusky horizon. It's a bit early, I decide, and turn my blue-grey gaze back to the earth.
There's movement not too far away, and I hear the murmur of voices carrying across open land. Someone has arrived, newcomers perhaps. I should go and meet them, I know, but by the time I do they have already been accosted by two others. Imperial I know by sight, but it is Castile that I settle beside, standing shoulder-to-shoulder after having ascertained from his body language that these strangers are not a threat.
I trust him, and with no sign of immediate danger I step a bit closer. I've managed to catch the introduction, and I wait for an appropriate lull in the conversation before adding: "I'm Lepis."
Another comes to join them - a winged man, like himself - and he alights a short distance away on the muddied ground of melted snow and sprouting grass. When he joins them, Warrick offers him a genuine smile of pleasure - he never minded meeting someone new. “Castile,” the Overseer offers in greeting, a small dip of his head in acknowledgement. His eyes turn to his daughter - a brave, mature little thing - who introduces herself and her lineage. There is a small chuckle in his chest and a sparkle in his eye as he hears her announce himself as King, for all she had ever called him in her life had been father. He gives Wound a sideways glance - and his smile broadens as his eyes meet hers.
Warrick’s eyes wistfully turn away to watch as a young girl - about Wishbone’s size - comes to join them. He knew this had to be Lepis, so when she speaks her name, he smiles at her knowingly. “It’s nice to meet you, Lepis. We’ve come to visit your country, with invitation, of course.”
In this moment, Wishbone is gone to the dark stallion’s side. She asks him a question - though it wasn’t an inappropriate one, so he doesn’t intrude. Warrick’s eyes find her retreating form, and with a tiny shrug to Wound, he settles into a walking pace behind Imperial, and next to Wound. He meets Castile’s gaze, wondering if the other man would fall into step beside him. Part of him hopes so - the smell of Hyaline is fresh on the stallion’s flesh, and his curiosity for his firstborn daughter now seems to be pushed to the forefront of his mind.
