"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
05-24-2018, 01:43 PM (This post was last modified: 06-25-2018, 06:24 PM by Briseis.)
Seasons have come and gone, and still Briseis remains a shadow. Everyone that she has met in Hyaline has been friendly, and for that she is grateful, but it does little to put the rather feral mare at ease. She still preferred the outskirts, traipsing along unpaved paths, letting the hum of the kingdom fall behind her. This was how much of her day was spent; moving, traveling, climbing. From an outside perspective one would simply assume she was either just an incredibly active individual, or just very antisocial. But a Briseis did nothing without reason. The obscure darkness that suffocated her at night was beginning to take its toll. She had thought that finally having a home - or at least, a place that was more of a home than anyplace else - would spurn the nightmares away, but it does not. Her best solution was to physically exhaust herself, in hopes that she would fall into such a deep sleep that not even the terror could touch her.
When she finally beds down for the night, it does not take long for sleep to find her. The darkness of slumber settles over her like a warm embrace, and she is lost in the unfeeling oblivion. But it isn’t long until the obsidian abyss begins to weigh on her, like a boulder had been placed on her chest. The void begins to slip away, and again she is running. Her lungs burn and her legs ache, and when she dares to look behind her to see what it was that was chasing her she cannot make out their shapes. It is no longer grass and pine needles beneath her feet, but instead thick and heavy sand that even further hinders her escape. There is panic bubbling in her throat, her focus only on what was in front of her - the ocean. She can feel the hot, sulfur-scented breath of the beasts on her back, a clawing sensation grabbing at her back legs before she plunges through the waves.
Normally, it is the sensation of drowning that awakens her. She would wake up with a gasping start, staring wide eyed at her surroundings, struggling to grasp her reality. The nightmares seemed to be a suppressed memory of how she had ended up in Beqanna (she remembers blinking the sand from her eyes, standing on water-weary legs, her lungs aching from the inhaled water), but she can never remember what was real and what her mind created.
But this time, she wakes up and she is actually running. Her lungs sting, having been signaling to her that they’d had enough for quite some time now. She is no longer in Hyaline, but instead finds herself racing along the banks of the River. It is still several more minutes before her brain can register that whatever danger she was trying to escape was not real. She slows, a faltering and stumbling pace, until she comes to a stop at the edge of the river. She stands there, sides heaving, several large scratches running the length of her black coat, most likely from when she blindly ran through trees and brush. Leaves and twigs are tangled into her already feral mane, and she thinks her heart rate will never return to normal.
Beneath the cobalt night sky she collapses, breathless and fatigued, and not ready to make the journey back to Hyaline.
briseis. you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
I wrote this at work so it’s a little scattered but whatever.
05-24-2018, 02:46 PM (This post was last modified: 05-24-2018, 02:48 PM by Crevan.)
Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
To avoid dreaming altogether, Crevan opts simply not to sleep these days. On nights like this, when only mindless walking can seem to silence the memories, he travels far no matter how much his body protests. If he managed to fall asleep it would only leave him deadbeat in the morning. His fantasies refused to be kind.
The shifter is currently a wolf: padding along on oversized paws, every roll of his shoulders and swing of his hips predatory and loose. There’s no thought of hunting, or looking for prey to hunt either. His grand head is stationed eyes-forward with the rest of his youthful body following suit. No indication of hurrying, no exact plan in mind. One tawny ear (dark gray, now that the sun has set) flicks fore and then aft of his skull, picking up on subtle vermin and other nightly cacophony while his nose quivers.
The Riverlands, heavy with the smell of freshwater and spring vegetation, suddenly give up their ghost.
Instinctively the warg grows stock-still, legs and belly clenched tight when he first hears, then sees the black mare streak past. Her odor is sweat and fear, a rancid trail that she leaves behind but, to his surprise, he sees nothing giving her pursuit. Once, quickly, his head snaps to the area where she’d appeared from and then he’s off himself - a pale blur of motion that aims to overtake whatever creature she might be.
This is what brought him to life. Every stride is raw with power and his focus: unbreakable. There’s no doubt in his mind that he’ll catch up to her … that is, until he notices she’s slowing down. A bit irate with the change in pace, Crevan adjusts to a rolling lope. He fully intends on getting some answers out of the stranger (she’s at the water’s edge, now,) and he wants to catch her before she can either disappear or cross the ford.
His mouth pops open, a cheeky bit just begging to be thrown her way, and then he watches in surprise as she falls.
Your beauty is beyond compare - oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
His day is uneventful; but his last week surely has been, and he really doesn't mind. The adrenalin has kept him going even longer than that, although the "stink of Loess" as his mother calls it still clings to him in a vague and slightly irritating way. And it may just grow worse before he ever gets rid of it.
The river is a peacefully, neutral land in comparison to all the kingdom business he was about for two whole seasons. For him, that's pretty long, especially come to think of the fact that he's much, much more a warrior than a diplomat. He shakes the thought. If he's not careful, he'll end up as soft as Breckin. Though, he does not mean that in a bad way to be honest.
Hooves clattering on the ground, breaking sticks and making no effort of silence, suddenly another mare appears (well other than the one that his thoughts just accidentally led to). She's black and white, but the white comes from her foaming mouth, exhaustion taking her before anything else; she slows down, but once she does, she suddenly collapses.
The roaning male is with her in about 5 long, sudden bursts of strides; but halfway his second a wolf appears to be slowing down, mouth falling open as if the chase has finally given him the meal he has worked for so hard.
Well, not on Leilan's watch. "Dammit!" he says to himself, but hard enough to be heard, partially hoping that his fit-looking, tall and stocky muscle crashing through the undergrowth will prevent the predator from digging in. He's not sure if it does anything, but he comes to a sliding standstill between the black form on the ground and the wolf, turning midway and sliding a little sideways from the run-and-turn. But he will face this foe if he still dares to attack, emitting a low sound, ears flat on his skull.
there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick
@[Crevan] @[Briseis] So I was slightly bad at guessing the distance between them but I'm thinking this may work anyway
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
She smells him before she sees him, and adrenaline shoots through her like a lightning strike. Instantly she is scrambling to her feet, ignoring her body’s cries of protest. Before she can fully take in the sight of the wolf, there is a stallion, sending dirt and pebbles spraying as he slides in front of her. The exhausted black mare takes a step back, her alarm and confusion seeming to chase away her extreme desire to just lay down. Her dark brown eyes peer around the stallion that seemed to be her savior, eyeing the wolf as though she is trying to place him. She had been most certain that she had been trying to outrun a nightmare - an intangible shadow. But not even seconds after she arrives at the river, a predator that had clearly been in her pursuit is also present. It puzzled her, and she found herself wondering if this was who she had been trying to outrun.
But there was something...off, about this wolf. She remembers a time long ago, when she had gone to Taiga. She remembers hearing the wolf-song, followed soon by the appearance of a mare that still smelled of canine scent. ”Who...who are you?” the question is directed to the wolf, and she begins to wonder if perhaps Beqanna has finally caused her to lose her sanity. She never did figure out how that mare and the wolf-song were connected, but she has her suspicions.
The sweat had now dried, leaving her coat looking rough and unkempt. Her muscles still quivered, and her legs felt like they still didn’t have the strength to hold her up. Her instincts tell her to not lose sight of the wolf, but she still takes a step forward, not quite alongside the roan stallion that has come to her aid, but just close enough that her muzzle could touch his side, expelling a warm sigh of relief against his skin; the only way she knew to show her gratitude.
briseis. you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
Wherever there was a damsel in distress, you could be sure a poseur was somewhere nearby just waiting to prove himself. This time he comes in the shape of a faded bay stallion, crashing through the river and brush in order to use himself as a fleshy shield. Crevan had come to expect suspicion from the others (his reaction to Leilan’s entrance and the scathing Dammit! are something close to a chuckle and the quick jerk of his furry brows,) but this was an endearing thing to see. He hoped the the odd mare appreciated the effort.
Simpering quietly to himself, Crevan the wolf sits with a decidedly quick motion and lifts both ears to hear the question asked of him. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” He speaks roughly, casting his voice so that both could hear him clearly above the babbling waters. For a moment his snout thrusts in Leilan’s direction, assessing the capability of those sturdy legs and muscled back. The idea of a fight causes his thick, round head to tilt curiously and then, he’s back to deciphering the set of mahogany eyes peering out at him from beside the speckled man.
“You looked possessed.” Crevan shrugs, lifting himself into a standing position once more. “Then again, I doubt my sudden appearance helped.” He whuffs, a breathy sort of laugh that softened his otherwise sharp edges.
Hunkering low before shaking out his damp pelt, the skin-shifter glances once between the both of them, muttering a low sigh before starting introductions himself. “I’m Crevan … normally I don't see many others out here at this time.”
05-26-2018, 07:25 AM (This post was last modified: 05-30-2018, 03:53 PM by Leilan.)
Leilan
Your beauty is beyond compare - oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
Under his breath, the roaning stallion curses once more. The wolf does not attack, in fact, he outright chuckles. Leilan's ears are still flat on his skull, but his muscle release part of the tension that beheld them, though he does not change stance much - he's not at ease. But the wolf sounds an awful lot like a horse.
The mare seems to sense, or see, something that Leilan hadn't yet, already standing and asking the wolf who he is. Suspicion is confirmed and Leilan finally eases fully when the wolf outright speaks, and assesses Leilan briefly before adding in that his own appearance did not help.
His laugh is unsettling horse-like, snorting. Leilan shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mind and come to his senses. The mare seemed thankful anyway for his appearance, though he feels rather stupidly in front of the wolf himself, so he is torn two ways - either stay to please the girl mostly, or just walk out since there wasn't a threat after all. He opts for the first for now, since introductions are taking place and if the mare should fall again he doesn't think the wolf could fully carry her weight.
"I'd say well met, Crevan, but your shape is definitely an off-putter." he offers him with something of a more crooked smile. Ah, but he's ever the joker, and seeing that there's no danger around here, he snorts a bit and looks to the mare. "I doubt we both are normally around here much. A chance encounter I would say. I'm Leilan - on my way back from Nerine, myself. But what brought you out here like this?" he asks the night-coloured mare. Apparently, the wolf-horse Crevan seems to call this place his home, so now she's the one not accounted for.
there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick
@[Crevan] @[Briseis]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
05-29-2018, 06:47 PM (This post was last modified: 05-29-2018, 06:55 PM by Briseis.)
The more reality begins to settle in around her, the more humiliation begins to creep in. The feral mare was never one to admit when she was afraid, at least not when she was consciously aware of it. Wary yes, but rarely fearful. When the wolf speaks of her “possessed” state it only further cements the feeling. She can feel heat as it rises to her cheeks, and thankfully her pitch black coat keeps it from being visible to anyone else, but not having yet perfected the art of fully masking her emotions its doubtful it goes unnoticed by either of her companions. ”I’m not possessed,” she retorts somewhat defensively, snapping a tangled tail against her hocks as though to emphasize the statement.
“I was just...running away from something,” and this is more or less true. No one needs to know that what she was fleeing away from was in fact not real. She shifts her weight away from the stallion she was next to, not having realized she was practically clinging to him - or at least, by her standards she was. But she offers him a faint smile still, even though she was still rather embarrassed by the whole situation.
They introduce themselves, the wolf and the stallion, her dark brown eyes studying them in turn as they speak. ”I’m Briseis,” and then, as an afterthought because she is not accustomed to having a ‘home’, she adds, ”from Hyaline.” Leilan asks what brought her out here, and there is clear hesitation in her willingness to answer. She was not going to tell them she was running from a nightmare, that much she was certain. Instead, she does her best of what could only be considered an equine shrug, offering somewhat nonchalantly, ”I’m still new to Beqanna. In my old home, the things that hunted us were real.” And now she looks to Crevan, an almost amused simper pulling at the corner of her lips as she says, ”We didn’t make small talk with the wolves there.”
briseis. you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
A simple situation of, “wrong place, wrong time.” He sighs again, tilting a disbelieving face towards the black as she mutely explains the reason for her night-run. Crevan knows she’s lying, he saw her pass unencumbered and certainly alone, but we all have our secrets and clearly she feels the need to keep hers locked away. So be it, the wolf thinks; he has his own dark memories to nurse instead.
“Blame the Gods, then, for making me so damned frightening.” He chuckles softly in reply to Leilan’s introduction. Together, both wolf and stallion turn to hear the mare follow suit. Briseis is her name, another wanderer sent far from her home in Hyaline. The second inhabitant from that Kingdom he’s met out here. Odd, but not to be unexpected. The shifter would be more surprised if she came from Tephra, or even nowhere at all. “Oh small talk is just one of my many talents, Briseis.” He retorts, amused at the sudden uptilt of her lips. For quivering behind Leilan just a moment ago, her grit has certainly returned quick enough.
“Don’t mistake me for something in a storybook, either.” Crevan smiles, managing to turn the action into something sinister, “I’m very, very real.”
Like the snap of one’s fingers, his demeanor changes. The beast yawns wide, eyes closing as his fur wrinkles around the curves of his cheeks, and then he’s turned away from them with one fluid motion. “Since everything seems well and you have no intentions of demonic activity, I suppose my job here is done.” The predator tells them with the tilt of his massive head, indicating subtly that if such a thing were the case he’d be the one to meet it head-on. Let them make of it what they will.
“Take care of her Leilan, no doubt that sense of direction is terrible - what with her being new and all.” He huffs, tickled pink. “If either of you need a big bad wolf, you can find me in Sylva.”
And with that he’s off again, out to chase away the dreams that drove him here in the first place.
Your beauty is beyond compare - oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
Crevan has a way of making Leilan forget he is a horse in wolf-form, simply by means of conversation. In fact, they are partly alike. The wolf-bearing stallion is quick to return a joke, adds some more while he’s at it, although he also warns them that he is actually, really a wolf in his form, and that he could have hunted them (or just Briseis), blickering his teeth at the black mare.
To be honest Leilan would have liked him to stay and talk with him some more, but it seems he has other plans. ”Sylva, huh? Not my choice of places these days.” But perhaps, if he preferred to stay in wolf form, it didn’t matter. Or he was in fact darker in heart than he let on. Honestly Leilan thought his carefree nature might benefit more from Loess anyway.
He grins at the wolf when he outs his parting words, but doesn’t want to comment (after all she’s standing close enough to hear) and instead turns to the mare. ”Should I walk you home, then?” he asks her. After all, perhaps if she’s so exhausted, there’s not too much fun in flirting or joking at the moment.
there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick
@[Briseis]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
06-07-2018, 06:20 PM (This post was last modified: 06-07-2018, 06:21 PM by Briseis.)
He jests about demons, but perhaps he is not far from the truth. She isn’t sure what haunts her mind at night, just as she isn’t sure (for her memory remains cloaked in fog) what it was that drove her into the waves that day. As far as she is concerned, they are her own sort of demons; attached firmly in the back of her mind, making their appearance when she least expects it.
He is witty and full of remarks but Briseis is still rusty in the ways of conversation. ”I’ve made it a habit to avoid all demonic activity,” she says simply. With still cautious eyes she watches the wolf, still not entirely sure how to take him. He speaks of Sylva, and Leilan makes a comment, but Briseis has not been here long enough to know the differences between the lands. She remembers though that Kagerus had referred to Hyaline as a sanctuary kingdom, which must mean that not all of the lands were so kind and welcoming.
And with that Crevan makes his exit, and she watches him go with an expression of both faint amusement but also a bit perplexed. Beqanna was indeed an odd place. She didn’t know of anywhere else that a wolf appeared of nowhere, made a few smart remarks, and then left. But now the black mare diverts her attention to Leilan, her dark brown eyes peering at him from behind a tangled forelock. She shakes her head at his offer to walk her home, for the more the adrenaline began to wear off the more aware she became of the way her legs still tingled with fatigue. ”I think I’ll just wait until morning. It was a long run, and it seems like an even more daunting walk.” There is a slight pause, thinking back to what the wolf had said earlier, and Leilan’s retort. ”You said Sylva wasn’t your choice of places. Why is that?”
briseis. you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
| 