"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
Safe with her family's den, in the heart of her mothers' kingdom, Warlight finally settles her thoughts enough to allow herself to sleep. It isn't an easy task - when the anticipation is gnawing at her guy and her mind is racing. She didn't know where she was going, not exactly, and that was half the thrill.
Tonight while her brothers slept, she would be roaming some distant land, bathed in starlight.
Warlight wakes to the smell of mud and mice, her nose crinkling as her eyes open. Once again, her knees are dirty and the fine, white hairs on her legs soiled. But she doesn't have a thought for her appearance.
The bay splashed girl stands, shaking her coat free of the worst of the drying earth. Once they adjust to the darkness, the inky-blue depths of her eyes glare out at the familiar, ancient oaks and the crook in the river which she knows too well.
"Fuck." the word slides out under her breath as she realizes that she recognizes exactly where she is, and she knows she could be home in an hour or two. She turns to walk downstream, giving a dissatisfied snort for good measure.
She'd become accustomed to the ways of the night quickly, easily; it was in the day's darkest hours that her skills shone the brightest. As time had progressed, so had her sleeping patterns, choosing to catch what little sleep she could during the day to remain awake during the night.
The wandering seemed to become somewhat of an unintended ritual, her journeys bringing her to the far corners of Beqanna and back, going greatly unnoticed while she was draped in the shadows of the night. Tonight her ventures had brought her the length of the River along the nothern border of Taiga, it was a place she'd traversed before, but for whatever reason had decided to return yet again. The crunch of river worn pebbles beneather her slight hooves shatter the quiet of the night and the white noise of the river alongside her.
She'd stopped to cast a bored glance around her, the yellow eyes that contrasted so easily with the shadows widened slightly as her gaze trained back in front her; someone had appeared that hadn't just been there a second ago. Eyes well accustomed to the night blink placidly, watching the girl rise and shake herself before turning to come towards her. It seemed the other girl hadn't noticed the stygian body that stood merely a few paces away, and if Sibella chose not to move, she would be directly upon her. The thought of moving did not appeal to the midnight filly right then, and other than throwing up a dense wall of shadow to intercept the quickly approaching mahogany and white filly, that left her only one other option.
If it weren't so close, if she couldn't feel its breath dance across her cheek, the Hyalinian girl would doubt her sanity now - as she looks into a pool of darkness and still sees no sign of life.
Warlight swallows hard, pushing her heart back into her chest where it belongs. Her ears pin to the thin crest of her neck as she takes a step back and putts a little space between herself and the unknown female. The surprise has faded and her brow has knotted together once again.
"Why do you ask?" She questions in return once there is a little space between them. If the daughter of two queens had learned anything thing from her mothers governing, it was that whoever was asking the questions tended to be in charge - and she wasn't about to give this shadow kid an inch, not before she even saw her at least.
"What are you doing out here, do you live here?" And although her tone is suspicions, there is an underlying curiosity which is hard to miss.
As if falling into a barrier of darkness anyway, the other girl deflects backward with a step. But the initial surprise is fading quickly and the mahogany fill regains her poise. The flattening of the other’s ears, the widening of the eyes, the stiffening of her posture did not go unnoticed, however, and Sibella was left to wonder if that had been a display of surprise, or fear.
The yellow of her dull eyes stares coolly at the girl as she is quick to retort with her own question. If the stygian girl had cared enough to bother, she might have rolled her eyes. But the frigid placidity of her expression remains fixed. Was that a hint of suspicion in her voice?
”If you don’t like being questioned, don’t do strange things.”
Still cloaked in the shadows, she passes the girl fluidly, as she herself is questioned about her own reasoning for stalking in the dead of night. She pauses to round back and stand directly behind the antlered girl.
Her bored voice breaks the newly fallen silence, cutting through the dark and chatter of lonesome crickets. ”Because I am strange and I do strange things.”
With that she begins to push the dark away from them, but not fully, turning the thick black into a muted gray—enough for the other to finally make out the wisped tendrils of her wings, the deep ebony of her flesh, and the contrasting yellow tone of her questioning eyes.
If you don’t like being questioned, don’t do strange things.
Warlight does not have the other girl's propriety or detachment, and she does indulge in an eye-roll as the stranger doles out advice. Is she brave or is she dense? The age-old question could be asked again of the head-strong Hyalinian princess as she refuses to be frightened by the others tricks. Warlight tracks the sounds of snapping twigs and light breathing, as the shadow girl pauses in her speech to re-position herself.
"Ha," she snaps in the pause between scentances, her eyes narrowing against the gloom, "you're one to talk."
The supernatural darkness begins to fade and the moon and stars come alive around them. As her eyes adjust, Warlight takes note of what she can about the stranger's appearance. A girl, older than herself but not yet a mare, stands before her.
"Well, I didn't mean to end up here," she continues when Sibella's curious, yellow eyes become visible, "I was trying to go somewhere much more exciting than this soggy old forest."
![[Image: Warlightpageddoll1.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/NMPHtrtV/Warlightpageddoll1.png)