"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
He's not sure he likes the thought, but boredom is all too real and a curious question had staggered drunkenly across his mind just as he was waking up. ("Those fucking half-formed ideas," He thinks as he pads along, "Are fucking bird food.")
And this is what the tawny wolf repeats for the remainder of the day as he hunts, eats, rests, and runs. ("Bird food, useless fodder that will end up as shit. Bird food.")
Still, the curious question refuses to be shaken free. He pants through a row of jagged teeth, slows his run to an ambling walk along the Riverbank, and tries to convince himself that no, just because years have passed since he'd last worn his horse skin, it doesn't mean that he won't be able to shift back. The idea was perposterous! And even if it was true("Not true, it's a stupid idea." He thinks,) even if it was true it certainly wouldn't bother him.
Would it?
See, what the warg knows but won't admit is that for the first time in a while, that other, less-appealing horsey side is calling to him. Crevan can hardly believe it, but Nature is working against him with the turn of the seasons and he feels almost sick with desire to be a horse. To walk among the others and not recieve curious stares, to find a companion that truly was his species ...
"God you're an idiot." He chides himself aloud, shaking his bulky head side-to-side with an exasperated snarl. "Merida is horse too, just as much as you. What's so different now?!" He argues with himself, lost in the idea that he's alone out here in this sometimes forgotten expanse of territory. "If you're so afraid you might never fit in, just fucking shift already!" He screams at his own body, angry that he even wanted to change back.
Regardless of intent, his body complies.
Like a rubber band being snapped back into place, he shift simultaneously and painfully. The shape of his skin bursts at the seams, ribbons apart to allow his true form expansion and growth. His mouth, parted in a squeal that turns to throaty roar, snaps and rearranges itself as the rest follows suit. Crevan the wolf turns to Crevan the horse - in a blink - and when he's left standing on four hooves, there's not much left for him to do but crumple.
He's not in pain (not anymore, at least) but he's certainly in shock. Wide-eyed and motionless, Crevan watches nothing but the occasional blue of his navy mane as it dances across his vision now and then. He was a colt the last time he'd worn this skin ... just a boy.
Nothing was simple.
This shouldn't surprise her, but the fact that it does only makes matters worse. It makes her self-doubt more acquit and turns her naivety to something close to shame.
She isn't sure if what she has done can be called unfaithfulness, but she knows she is running from the thought of telling Kgerus - so it must be wrong. At the same time, she has hidden the extent of her relationship with Kagerus from Castile... possibly ruining two of her most powerful bonds.
Once they found out.
If they found out.
They have to find out.
This was the loop her mind had been running on all day as she carried on with her duties. After her morning flight over the southern border, Solace leaves them all to returns to the spot along the river where she had first met Castile. The memory is a distant one, one that probably would have been forgotten had she never seen him again. But the importance of that day is highlighted in hindsight. She hadn't had a kingdom then, she hadn't even had her wings, and his advances met by her awkward refusals had been the first of their kind. Little did she know he was setting hearts a-fluttering all across the country.
He was a magnetic force and she was a fool to believe she would be the only one drawn to him.
The musky scents of the lesser mammals are thick in the air, yet she does not pause to consider them. The frustration in her chest builds as she reaches the place she had been searching for, but she halts abruptly when a bitter, unfamiliar voice breaks through the fog.
She sighs as her head swivels in the unseen stranger's direction. So much for the alone time.
"What did you say?" she calls, in a matter-of-fact tone nearly devoid of the inflection which usually accented questions.
@[Calcifer] So Solace and Celest have never met, but I picture both their faces as being similar to Tang. Up to you if you want him to realize they look alike. Celest is more Morab and Solace is basically a morgan with slight mustang influence so he may or may not notice the similarity
Crevan and Solace could not be more opposing entities. One has duty and honor to bind her, the love of many and the hopes of a future. The other … well, he’s got a lot of time on his hands. If they had the hours to compare memories and mistakes made, it would be as apparent to them as it was to those who knew them that, given normal circumstances, their two paths would never intersect.
Odd, how things work out, hmm?
“I said,” He emphasizes aloud before turning to look at his unwelcome audience, “Who the fuck are -” and then his head twists of its own accord, and his navy eyes lock onto the familiar colors and shape of a filly he knew years ago.
The resemblance strikes him dumb; for a moment the word Celest rises to his lips poised as a question, but then his keen sight supplies him with the countless differences and he closes his slack jaw. “I said, do you always go around nosing into other’s business?” Crevan tries for a third time, grunting angrily at the struggle he was presented with when trying to rise and simply stand.
These legs felt wrong, and his stomach was cramping enough to make him momentarily forget about the nameless mare.
“And you are?” He mutters, wobbling about to face her with a less-than-open expression.
When his head twists around to find her the gaze he will find is cool and steady. But his unexpected response and slack jaw cause a thin smile to pull at the corners of her pale mouth. The shock across his face lightens her sulking mood, and the strangeness of the situation causes her to forget her troubles for now. She assumes that the change in attitude is due to a sudden realization that he is speaking to Hyaline's queen. but as he recovers enough to speak again, it is clear that he still has no idea. Maybe this should disappoint her, but it only adds to the mystery.
It's... refreshing.
Of course, she may not have found his cutting tone quite as charming if it weren't for the good dose of jagged beauty slashed across his features. As she stands watching the muttering, wobbling stallion, Solace tells herself that she is only staying because she needs to know what is going on in the Riverlands. She considers this misty strip of land an extension of her own kingdom, and with the changes happening across Beqanna is was best if she kept tabs on those who lived on her doorstep. Ilma's diligence in this area had led them to a sickly ex-queen, ready to drown herself in a fit of fever. Yet she doesn't step forward to lend this stranger a shoulder to lean on.
"Lace." Smoak's old nickname for her slides off her tongue with ease. It wasn't a lie, exactly, even if she hadn't been called that by anyone in half a lifetime. She ignores his annoyance, for now, it's intended impact is diminished by his fumbling anyway.
"You sure are rude for someone who looks like he could use some help."
(“Has she ever seen herself before?” And his heart jags painfully, unexpectedly.)
They’re only one another’s mirror, in this moment, and Crevan is glad his lapse in a cutting response garnered a proud, victorious sort of smile to rouse along the crease of her blush, pink lips. Whatever thought aroused such a response, he can’t deny that he doesn’t like the outcome.
Makes it kind of hard to be off-putting, especially when the gold-splashed mare takes his final demand and turns it into a statement of her own. “Boy are you sharp, Lace.” He plays along, raising the stakes of her triumphant smile with an amused one of his own. “And that’s what you do, then? Parade about the Riverlands, finding assholes in peril first and then withholding aid just when they need it most?”
Here his swaying ceases, and that rugged, adventurous chin of his father’s tilts upward to give Crevan a resilient sort of stance. “What a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” He mutters, only to break the look a second later with a jerky step ahead and a barking sort of laugh. “I’ll admit, if that’s the truth, you’ll be the most interesting lady I’ve come across in a while.”
“Crevan,” He follows immediately after, his tone rich with a satisfaction he’s not felt in a while, “You can call me Crevan.”
05-09-2018, 11:54 AM (This post was last modified: 05-09-2018, 12:50 PM by Solace.)
Solace
. . .
His cavalier smile does little to dispel Solace's reservations, but her features remain relaxed and lit by curiosity. He seems to find his balance, and with it comes a cynical summary of what many would consider a good deed.
"Well there are a few different ways to phrase everything, I guess." She offers in response with a shrug of one pale shoulder. She would give him help if he needed it, but she is starting to doubt there is anything she can do to make his life easier. She wouldn't argue worldviews with a stranger in the woods, and her expression does not falter... even as he goes on to mutter something else and give his opinion on how interesting she may or may not be.
She realizes what a proud creature she has found, and it makes her wonder at his background as he sets his jaw and solidifies his stance. She isn't quite sure if his comment is meant to be a compliment or sarcastic jab, and she lets it roll off her back as soon as it reaches her. She rarely took notice of either from strangers anymore.
"It's nice to meet you Crevan," she replies, returning to her usual way of conducting business with strangers, now that he seems uninterested (and not requiring) her help. His name echoes in her mind - it is not the first time she has heard it that name. It summons up a feeling that was strongly tied to her early years in Hyaline, of Amet and Corvus, but the when and where are just out of reach. He was frustratingly difficult to read, and now that his strength has returned to him she almost wishes she had of introduced herself with her proper title.
Her nickname on his lips sounded wrong.
Her cool gaze drifts to the river for a moment as she silently muses, but it is only a second before she is speaking to him as she watches the dancing waters. "Don't let me keep you from..." she thinks back to the state she had found him in as one brow lifts ever so slightly, "whatever it was you were doing."
@[Crevan] this isn't me trying to wrap up the thread, just Solace being Solace
Tell me: when someone has nothing left to live for and life won’t let them go ... what do they look for? What wakes them up in the morning, keeps them eating or breathing like the rest? You’ve outlived your family, or if you haven’t soon enough you will. Children, friends, all the rest - eventually they go too. But not you.
Crevan has seen other immortals. He hasn’t been one himself for long, but as a wolf he sees the world … differently from them. They become increasingly easier to spot. A few live their past lives over, just with new faces and new ‘homes’. These are the ones he supposes can still feel pain, lucky bastards. The ones like Sinner … they ring in close to where Crevan lies on the spectrum of undead.
What keeps him living, in a world where he had no life?
“It’s nice to meet you Crevan,” The winged mare supplies, like an automaton. He uses the moment of brief interlude after this polite response to gain full motion of his legs, walking off a few feet in silence because he expects there to be some sort of follow-up. “Don’t let me keep you from …” And here his head tilts back, a muddy cheek pressed to his neck as he scrutinizes her, “whatever it was you were doing.”
He smiles.
His forelegs cross one another and then the bulk of his body has shifted around with them. He can see her clearly now, and again he finds that he likes it. “Do you think,” He starts, slowly, “that if I attacked you, you could kill me?”
It’s an honest question, one he’s only asked a handful of times. Her demeanor is deserving of the challenge, he thinks. For a second the stocky horse observes her in lax silence and he wonders if he might have actually found a magician. It would make his day.
Then he changes his mind. “Nevermind.” He barks, “Not sure that it matters either way.” The shifter sighs, knowing then that his search will continue for another day, or another year, or another millennia. Crevan decides to move on. “You weren’t keeping me from anything. I’ve gotten my answers.” He tells her, gritting his teeth and folding his brow in concentration. A shudder of alien movement ripples across his skin, and then his expression clears and those intrepid, dark eyes of his are searching her face again.
“Nice pair of wings, but with the weather I’m guessing Loess, Hyaline? I didn’t see you land.” The stallion muses, wondering how she’ll take that. “My family lived in Hyaline, once.” He sprinkles on top, his navy eyes hardly blinking when Crevan finally holds his tongue.
05-13-2018, 11:26 AM (This post was last modified: 05-13-2018, 11:52 AM by Solace.)
Solace
. . .
Solace's attention can only remain on the river for so long, and his movement draws her gaze back. With every once of strength and stability he gains, his behavior seems to grow even more erratic. He does not accept her offhand dismissal of their conversation, and his next words cause her to re-evaluate him for the third time.
She had never, truly, feared for her life and his question (which under different circumstances she may have read as a threat) does not summon some long-suppressed panic. Instead, in the brief pause which follows, she is reminded of her brother. Few knew of the dark bay colt who never saw his first spring because of Solace's uncontrolled magic, and it is sadness, not fear or defiance, which disrupts her mask of poise.
But there is not enough time for to slip in an answer, especially because she doesn't have one on the tip of her tongue, and she leaves the question unanswered - following him along the haphazard trail of his thoughts.
Under his skin, there is a ripple of movement - a glitch in his biology - and for a moment her heart clenches in her chest. She recognizes the token movement of a shifter; Castile had had a similar symptom when he began to lose his delicate control over the dragon which had attacked her.
Against her better judgment - she wonders if he is just the sort of man she needs.
"Hyaline," she confirms once she can get a word in. "But most of the residents are fairly new, I've actually been there the longest," she says in sudden realization, "and I don't remember you."
His keen dark eyes watch her with an intensity that would have subdued her a few years ago, but now the blue-fire in her own dances, fueled by the thrill of whatever game they are playing.
05-17-2018, 09:21 AM (This post was last modified: 05-17-2018, 09:22 AM by Crevan.)
Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
He laughs at her answer, because it’s deserving of one.
“You don’t remember me because I wasn’t there.” He states, simply enough. Those days had belonged to Gryffen & Co., while his family had tried to run from what they’d created. “Perhaps you weren’t there either.” The unkempt stallion shrugs, neither caring nor concerned about what spilling the beans would do now. Those days had passed and he’d left not long after the white wraith himself, in order to travel through dimensions and glance through the veil of time.
But now he was back, for good. “Amet was King then, and Circinae his advisor … I think. Together she and I helped place Gryffen in power - not that brown, wily wolf’s first time doing so.” He rumbles, neck arching to sweep low for a quick bite of grass. “Then she abandoned Sylva and her plights to piddle around in Hyaline, and when she grew tired of that, Ischia became her throne.” He spits, quite literally. The glob of forage he’d chosen no longer suited his tastes, it would seem.
“She was my mother, once. And Corvus my twin, Jah-Lilah my aunt. I have a sister … out there somewhere, I think.” He muses, wholly undisturbed by these haunting admissions and the fact that a complete stranger was now privy to them. If Lace was indeed the longest-remaining inhabitant of Hyaline, there was a good chance everything coming out of his mouth wouldn’t matter. To her he’d just seem like an old-timer, someone from before whose little stories were only marks on history now.
Besides; Amet, Gryffen, and Circinae were long gone now, and he knew for certain that one of them would never be returning.
“Here I am telling you my whole life story, like it matters or something to you.” The shifter grunts, a careful smile settling onto his busy lips while the sparking remnants of his interest quiver out. He’d felt something, he was sure of it, but all the same he ends with, “Yours is more interesting, I’m sure.”
@[Solace] I'm fine with wrapping this up, feel free to reply or not! I know foaling season is right around the corner
