"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 was born in a cavern much like this. Deep in the autumal forests and tucked along the border of what had been Pangea. Do not travel over those mountains? Stay under the trees, Klaudius? Its as if his mother had been keeping him a secret. Perhaps she was, or perhaps he hadn't been worth showing...
Drip. Drip. Drip...
The steady patter had grown as irritating as nail on a chalkboard. Jaw muscles tensed at each strike of droplet to the granite floor. Stop. Just STOP! This place was cruel in more ways than one. The damp darkness left his coat equally as uncomfortable. His wings, he had left them un-preened for so long. Too long. How long had he been in here? Months most likely. His only visitation was the hairless scab that returned to cover his wounds, feeding him just enough sea grass to keep his health stable. Why he even bothered to eat anymore was beyond recollection. Why not just die Klaudius?Why not just starve?...
Family.
Somewhere out there he had children, lovers, siblings. They need you, he convinced himself. Honestly, they probably didn't, but it was a sane thought -the only one he has managed to cling to through his imprisionment. That one day he would see them again. That he could fly freely into the skies he missed so much. It was the second cruelty of this place. He could see the wide open world before him, just close enough to feel the cool breeze in his lavender tresses, but it was out of his grasp. The daily taunting drove him into madness. Pacing down one side of the enclosure and up the other. Steel hooves clipping atop the cold stone flooring, create an eerie echo to escape through the cavern mouth. It wasn't enough to render, even a child, to go exploring as to where the noise was sourced.
the truth that you'll find will always be the truth you hide
”Klaudius.”
Her voice is airy, maybe too light even, to be fitting of a dampened place like this, issued from the bright opening of the cave that housed him.
It had been a point of hers to seek out the prisoner they had acquired within Wishbone’s rule; he had been the end result of contract between Nerine and Loess. She’d be lying to herself, if she couldn’t admit the thought had crossed her mind, why it had been necessary to use Loess to do Nerine’s bidding at all. Did the Leviathans not have their own strength to pursue such acts on their own accord? But the thought was neither here nor there anymore, and it didn’t really matter--what was done was done. A contract was a contract, and Nerine’s diplomats would still be required to firstly recruit to Loess before their own home, or at least until the year was up.
The faster the days had gone by, the more she had been apt to understand the ability she had first considered more akin to a curse then a blessing. There were ways to fine tune it, perceive things to a grander degree, on levels she hadn’t known possible. It had opened doors and gateways that she now eagerly explored as a young foal might passionately explore the world around her with the truest sense of eagerness.
But she digresses.
Breckin had waited until this moment, for the slightest recognition of confidence in herself and her capabilities to finally approach the well-kept captive. The cave’s location she had purposefully kept herself from knowing; an attempt to keep her namesake curious nature at bay. But today she had awoken with her mind set, allowing herself to tap into the veil of rampant emotions surrounding her. It was not entirely difficult, to pinpoint the the sporadic succession of memories that gave away his whereabouts, and she followed the trail with hastened steps.
”I like that name,” she muses aloud, approaching the stallion directly now, pulling up just short of the twilight woven enclosure. Her head tilts casually a degree to the side in careful curiosity as the deepness of her brown eyes trace his weathered lavender body.
”My name is Breckin. Do you understand why you are here?”
your world is still lacking of me, how do you love?
@[Klaudius] she's keeping her title a secret from him from for now, trying to get a read of him before she shares that info XP if thats not cool, lemme know and I'll adjust it!
On, what could be his millionth rotation around his prison cell, the lavender stallion settles within the dark depths of the cavern. He has grown bored, like that of a feral tiger pacing its enclosure. A lackluster expression finds his features and his wings fall lose at his sides. They could cage his body but his mind spun freely -often haunting him through the nights. Dreams, of a life lived, re-played continually and they were bitter sweet. He could see their faces here, each one so close and lifelike. Nightmares come as well, showing him the future of what could be.
Death. Destruction. His. Theirs.
Klaudius
Fortunately he is spared these rambling thoughts as an angelic voice coos his name. Lavender ears perk, for surely this could not be Scorch. With a slow turn of his face, hazel-silver eyes view a bright figure illuminated by a halo of daylight. As she drew farther into darkness, her coloring remained stark against the cave walls.
I like that name.
The mares eyes scan over his appearance, judging him, he is certain. For a moment he considers ignoring her, allowing her to gaze upon him like some attraction at a zoo. She’d move on to more exciting things.
Do you understand why you are here?
The question pricks at his nerves. He can feel a snarl rising in his chest but he swallows it hard, best to play nice. Allowing silence to linger between them, he shifts slightly. Pulling his feathered appendages to his sides, before coming to meet her face to face, the barrier between them nothing more than a faint line of night and day.
His eyes study hers. A certain knowing reflecting in the nutmeg of hers, if he didn’t know, he was sure she was about to tell him. “Seems securing a home for your family is a crime,” he sneers. He may have committed other acts more worthy of his containment, but he is sure this is his conviction. “But please, enlighten me,” sarcasm thickly etched into each word...
the truth that you'll find will always be the truth you hide
”There is no crime in that, Klaudius.”
Her voice remains soft, for in the solitude of the cave that he is forced to dwell within, there is little sound to speak above aside from their breathing and the static sound of crashing waters behind her. Breckin had come of her own accord, to see if his captivity was necessary, wanting to form her own opinion on the matter in the wake of Wishbone’s departure. Ultimately his fate now rested with her, and she’d make sure her decisions would be based out of fact other than hearsay and gossip.
As she had hoped, she’d drawn him nearer, and with darkening eyes, she studied him closer, harder even, tracing the lines of his body and wings once more in new light, noting his handsome features and marring of scars alike, turning upward to train upon the vivid silver of his daring gaze. When their eyes meet, her lips pull upward into a rueful smile, shifting her thoughts to graze upon the emotional highlights of his life, not only his, but the shared memories of those whose life he had emotionally impacted. Who can say how long it took her, her mind flipping though a long history of lives impacted for the worse and the better by the lavender stallion she now held contact with. Such a past was hard to dive deep into the details of, and hold onto every bit of; her relative newfound ability did not allow her such a gift just yet. But she rose to the surface of her own thoughts with as much knowledge as she deemed necessary.
When her fallen dark eyes rise and refocus on the angular features of his face, her own features turn solemn, and a lonesome tear trails the curve of her cheekbone, though oddly no other tears threaten to spill. It’s a remnant of the sadness, fear, guilt, and pain felt by those he had influence, and surely her own meddling would result in her own compartmentalized repercussions. It was something she would deal with later, witnessing such things, when she could bide herself some solitude to vent her own emotions to no one but herself.
”There is no crime in trying to claim a crown,” she repeats, ”But such actions become problematic, when the attempt to claim power is done so by one who has a tendency to make poor decisions and unfortunately acts upon them.” Especially with the festering darkness still rising in Sylva, but she felt as though it unnecessary to say outright.
”For every act of good intentions and love you evoke, there seems to be just as many of selfishness and pain.” She closes her eyes, recounting the names that dotted his life’s emotional timeline, ”Sabra, Mosrael, Kylin, they all hold a certain fondness for you in their own way. And your children, Karat, Kromimium, Ketzia, Kove,to name a few, you seem to hold a devotion for in its purest form.”
Her eyes reopen with a trace of hardness lining their edges, “But the pain of one who would become an Amazon for a time, is hard to ignore, and it is only overshadowed by the grief felt by your sister Krone.” The queen unknown to him, falls quiet, as her head rises in careful regard, mindfully watching for subtle glimpses of any guilt or remorse.
your world is still lacking of me, how do you love?
@[Klaudius] mental abilities are so tricky DX please let me know if this doesn't make sense or is not okay lol
He stands quietly behind the veil of magic that keeps him here. Silver-hazel eyes watch as her gaze rises and falls. Its as if she is feeding mentally upon him, something his armor is worthless protecting against. His gaze focuses more intensely on her and when a single tear trails down her blanched cheek, he wonders what she has all recieved.
The thought turns into knowledge as she opens his closet, skeletons pouring out. His past was not tidy and he does nothing to hide it. Time and time again he had admitted his shortcoming and promised to be better. He was better.
Her ramblings continue and soon names compile. His lovers, his children, his family. That is when his jaw tightens and gaze hardens upon the mare so boldly judging him. "Kwartz and Kyveli," he snarls at her. He had not forgotten their faces even though he was not a part of their lives. Sabra and Kylin had made their choices to exclude him from their lives, but he would not forget them.
The punch line comes and it causes a deep laughter to rise within his throat and echo throughout the cave. "Krone. This is about Krone?" He can hardly believe a kingdom, who equally benefited from her failing throne, to be the cause of his imprisonment. A snort billows from his nares as he is thinking of leaving this conversation, but something bids him to stay, a question, "Who are you to condemn me and what I have done in my life, Breckin?" Her name is almost distasteful on his tongue as it is spat from his mouth...
The leopard woman merely nods solemnly in agreeance as he names Kwartz and Kyveli as his other offspring. For all of his shortcomings that she had bared witness to, at least she could appreciate the love he had for his children, even if he was not a constant presence in their developing lives. Evidenced by the occasions he'd been there to defend them, sought out retribution when Modicum Mortem had led them astray, kept a wayward mother from abandoning a young set of helpless fillies. These positive truths were there, but the negatory memories could not be ignored.
The jurisdiction for a second chance was what she had been seeking for him. But the rise of irritation his voice now carries, and seeming lack of remorse does not go unnoticed, though her expression remains stoic save for the drying tear trail along the curve of her jaw.
"This is about your life."
A simple five-word sentence, backed by the heaviness of implicated dual meanings. About life and death, and a future caught somewhere in the currents of uncertainty.
Breckin blinks, wondering if she should ignore his question altogether, or simply lie. As enticing as keeping her identity secretive awhile longer, she can't help but wonder if his attitude would change, gaining the knowledge as to who she really was. Recalling her own memories, she harnesses the day when Scorch had found her upon the beach, instilling upon the news that the crown of Nerine now fell upon her head. The clip of memory is short, only the image of Scorch addressing her as Khaleesi and lowering into a shallow kneel. The Leviathan queen presses the memory into Klaudius' own thoughts delicately, careful to not allow the passing of her own raging emotions she had felt that day into him.
The darkness of her eyes gaze steadily into his, keeping a firm grip upon the mask of expressionless neutrality. Now that he knows who she is, and her ability to share emotional memories with others, she can progress with her search for knowledge. "Would you like to see the memories of your poor choices I spoke of?" Of Amarantha and Krone, and the torment they suffered by his hand.
09-09-2018, 06:52 PM (This post was last modified: 09-09-2018, 07:09 PM by Klaudius.)
This is about your life
This simple statement is all that is said before images form from nowheres. Distant mirages that are both silent and sewn together like patchwork. A message to be found within its purpose. A beach. A girl(this girl). A crown.
The scene flickers out and he deciphers it quickly. His silver-hazel eyes look to the queen of Nerine, almost steely in a way. He does not bend a knee, does not address her more politley. Queen is nothing but a title, and he does not care for what one call themselves. She is Breckin, a terrified girl filling the shoes of a failed Queen before her. That is what he sees.
Her expression remains emotionless as does his, until she asks if he wishes to see his wrong doings. He outbursts in a manic fit of laughter, demonic nearly. It only lasts a moment, enough to get his point across of how her attempt to justify their actions was futile. The second the laughter stops, a sheepish grin creeps across pale lips while he stares just as steadily as hers had been. "You want memories of wrong doings...?" the question rhetorical, "Then I shall show you such memories..."
He pages through the torn memories of his life. Those he had wished to forget and those that haunted his every waking moment. The place where he was born, a dank cavern where the water from stalagmites dripped in a constant rhythm upon him. His mother, a calloused and calculated slut who showed him little warmth. He was not gifted, he was unworthy of her love. The man she entrusted his care too. A dark forbidding creature with a bloodlust so strong he had witnessed Stillwater drain his mother to lifelessness. The never ending parade of suitors she would bed to create a child worth her affections. His little sister Kolera, distraught and lost in Tephra after her powers took control of her. He had found her, their mother hiding in the brush to see what would happen. They were an experiment, nothing more. That is when he left for good. He left his sibling to fend for herself. He failed her...
That is when the anger surfaced. He had spent years mulling over his shortcomings- his failures in life. That he was not good enough -for anyone. When he returned to the lands of Beqanna, he was not the same as he had been. He was willing to do whatever it took to prove he was worth something, but in the end he failed.
Again.
He had failed his sister Krone. His children. His family. What he had done, was wrong, but he is a product of his own circumstances. Failure is all that he has known and it is what the does best.
His eyes flicker to reality, softened just the slightest. It is brief and not long lasting as he looks to the spotted mare before him, "Was that enough evidence for my damnation Breckin? Am I the monster you still see? Cuz I can show you more failures in time... When I am free of this place and we meet again. This time, my name being screamed from those pretty little lips." He sneers with amusement at the thought of her under him, a queen begging for him to stop.
With a painstaking patience, she stands idly in observance as he becomes swept up in a fit of laughter. Unsure as to what part of this whole situation was funny, her only response is a bemused raise of a pale brow, waiting for whatever had caused his swelling outburst to fade and die. But whatever is agitating him doesn’t die, instead he begins to filter though his deeper memories, practically begging her to tap into the emotions of a turbulent past. And she humors him, following the buzzing draw of winding memories he so willingly puts on display for her prying eye.
Klaudius had shown her his lacking childhood, riddled with grief and confusion, entirely misguided and riddled with failures. Pity weighs heavily into the expression on her face, eyes narrowing in thoughtful scrutiny as she considers what she had just bore witness to. It was true that his young life had been painful and deficient in structure, with no purpose or direction, and he’d presumably been left to his own devices as he aged. But the sad truth of it was, that there were many out there who shared a similarly broken past, and that was hardly an excuse for making the same poor choices time and time again. Others had been exposed to hardships in young life, but they’d overcome their wayward impulses, opting for productive lives instead of a life of self sabotage. Our bad choices all catch up to us in the end, after all, one way or another.
Maybe at one point he’d felt regret, vowed to change for the better, but that glimpse of his past is entirely lost to her; either it was never really there, or had merely been a figment of self gratification he’d used to try to justify himself. And she could not ignore his actions against Amarantha and Krone.
It was starting to feel as though the fruitfulness of this visit was quickly fleeing, evidenced by the way his reminiscent look suddenly turns sour and the stallion begins an onslaught of distanced words. How tempting it was, to feed into his anger more, curious as ever to know what other memories he might reveal to her, but she refrains. The knowledge she’d gained had been sufficient enough, and she is not intentionally a creature of cruelty to try baiting him further.
Winter’s frigid breath had been caressing the back of her neck while she’d been in the cave, the chill seeping further and further into her spotted coat, reminding her that if she didn’t want to spend the evening with Nerine’s prisoner then she had better make her exit before the blizzard at the door worsened. The frown on her lips curves upward slightly, watching him silently for a moment longer, before she turns away entirely.
Braving a step outside the cavern’s gateway, she’s met with a buffeting wind of winter’s darkness.
A winters gust sent a cold blast of air spirling through the tunnel and through the fibers of feather at his sides. Briefly they tightened their hold against him, as he awaited her reaction. Much to his dismay, it does not come. Only a slight grin as she turned his back to him, her white form threatening to leave him here, alone.
Silver-hazel eyes watch each movement she takes towards freedom. He wanted freedom, he had rights even if this world thought otherwise. Others has done far worse than he has and yet they are free. Krone's murderer, his children's assailant, he walks free still. His gaze narrows harshly and he presses against the twilight barrier, only to find nothing restricts him. Had he miscalculated his steps? His eyes shift quickly to the walls to be sure this had been the site of the invisible force that kept him here. Finding he was not mistaken, he presses forward again. Still nothing confines him. A wicked grin flashes across pearled teeth, his wings expand and he rushes forwards.
He is weakened by his captivity but not dead. Not yet. Iron hooves clank against the stone floor of his former prison as he rushes to be free. As he rushes to catch her. Lavender ears lay flat to his crest, his neck stretched forwards with his fast gait. Silver eyes lock onto his target, both freedom and the white-washed hide of the Nerine Queen. In hopes that he can at least give her a parting gift before he disappears into the winter sky.
As he nears where she stops to be greeted by the harsh elements of nature, he curls his right wing to his body to come up alongside her left in close quarters. Outreaching his muzzle, jaws parted to grip her alabaster crest. With any luck he would grab hold of flesh and jerk her off balance. Incisors possibly ripping hide from flesh, and hair from hide, leaving the sweet taste of blood within his mouth. A queens blood nonetheless. He would leave her with some dignity though, coming back for her when he was strong once again to make good on his threat.
Today he will escape. He will angle his body into the winters storm and drift off with the flurries that were to follow. Disappearing into the winter white and hibernating until spring came to revive him to his former glory...
Klaudius
I was lightning, before the thunder
So he is escaping and to update timelines he will be hiding out until summer. Breckin has that time to fear for her life(or dignity). If a man hunt would ensue I would be perfectly ok with that
At first she feels the bite of snow beneath her, then hears the rushing of wind as it overtakes the rest of her senses as she takes that one step beyond the caves threshhold. It muted everything enoug to the point that she couldn't hear the metallic clip of hooves against damp stone, or feel the heat of determined eyes boring into her back.
The only indication that might have alerted her to something gone amiss was the brief brush she felt against her left side, but even then, it doesn't register quickly enough. As soon as her head begins to rotate, the ridge of her neck is met with a sudden sharpness before her entire body is shifted sideways. She stumbles as her limbs attempt to compensate for the unintended shift in her momentum, hooves slipping as they desperately try to make some purchase in the feather light snow. When at last she's able to right herself, her eyes shift rapidly searching for the only thing she knew to be behind the cowardice attack.
But the purple form is already retreating into the dismal skies. It doesn't stop her from her mind grabbing at a sharpened limb of driftwood that had been previously blanketed it from snow, raising it to hover idly nearby her tension poised body. Darkening eyes narrow in scrutiny, lips pulling into a warped grimace of frustration as she drops the makeshift spear back to the ground; the winds were too harsh and the distance too great to carry her aim true to its intended target.
Breckin shakes her head at the tickling sensation of stark warmth trailing over her chilled neck as blood slowly weeps from its source, sparing a dull glance downward as the drops stain the purity of the snow aside her. Contented that the affliction won’t kill her immediately , her gaze settles back skyward ,watching until the purple stallion finally dissolves into the open storm.
