"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
If there is one thing of his past he will never retreat from, it is Nerine.
Wasn’t it just yesterday when he was frolicking in the shallow waves, too afraid to fly? Mother was there, standing as sentinel over both him and the kingdom as any Queen should. Her heart – tough as iron though it was – thrived on her love for the kingdom, but it grew larger upon developing a family. First it was Lior, then Castile, then Isobell. The fist she ruled with was substantial at first, intimidating even, but Castile paid no heed to the politics. Family and love was instilled in him. Friendship – he remembers Ivar, especially, and the other foals that congregated at the shoreline – had come easily enough as a young prince. This place, this rocky coastline, is where Castile knew true happiness and adoration. It’s only right that he visits again when his world suddenly seems so dark and lonely.
Being in the meadow, on the opposite edge of their small world, Castile harnessed his own power and shifted fluidly. There is no pain this time, no fear or regret.
He has been learning and practicing.
For himself.
For them – his children and women.
With a growl that trembles the ground underfoot, Castile takes flight. The earth is gored and wounded from his talons as he pushes off, his titanic wings beating heavily to lift him to the sky.
What would have typically taken days only takes hours as he casually soars high above where the clouds glitter his scales with dew. Being in no immediate rush, he seizes the opportunity to practice his agility with rolls, dives, and hovers. Although alone, he enjoys the time he has until Nerine looms at the edge of his vision. Butterflies sprout from deep in his stomach and spread across him, tingling even his toes and wingtips. Home, is the word that comes to mind. It hasn’t been for quite some time, and yet this is the only place he can affiliate himself. Loess nor Hyaline captured him the way the cliffs did.
A great majority of the population is likely deep in the bosom of Nerine, occupying themselves with conversations and food. While his heart pulls him to the cliff, Castile neutralizes the urge and instead banks then eventually lands at the southern border where he can be appropriately greeted. With a thunderous clap, his claws alight and rip the ground underneath. He immediately shifts however, exhaling a mere plume of black smoke.
What’s left is a horse standing amid titanic marks in the dirt.
the truth that you'll find will always be the truth you hide
As usual, a constant thrum of thoughts raced by her mind’s eye; the stream of kingdom and personal issues alike a steady mix of upheavals and depressions upon its plane. The good and the bad, the light and the dark, the right and the wrong. Everything was a balance, everything happened in its time, and one could not appreciate the brightest of days without the shadow of those darkest days to compare them to. Or so she tried to remind herself on days like today, her thoughts turning toward the need to gather Nerine in the near future, and address them at last as their newest Leader.
Further thoughts are cut short, however, when a shadow much too deep for the passing of a cloud in front of the sun cascades across the rocky flats of Nerine. It stirs a primordial worry for her home deep within her, and its presence is enough cause for the speckled woman to alter the path she had been walking.
The weight of something heavy meeting with shale underfoot jars her pale worn hooves to a momentary stumble, but purposeful steps are quickly recovered and she crests a low hill in time to observe the newcomer’s shift. Watching as the last of the rolling black smoke fades to nothing in the grey sky, she approaches him directly, though slower now, curious as ever as to who he might be. Friend or foe, it didn’t really matter; she had to know.
Dark eyes assess the deep gauge in the rocky terrain that she stops nearby, head tilted mildly in inquisitiveness. Raising her eyes to meet with his, an emotional memory of images and voices press unwillingly into the forefront of the her cognition—it’s of a colt, unmistakably the same one now looking at her, feelings of contentment and happiness that are so uniquely prevalent in the lives of the young saturate the vision, the Nerinian coast a familiar backdrop beyond.
Unknowingly to her more aware self, her lips turn upward into a warm smile of reception, “Welcome back, Castile.” The words are in the open before she can stop them, causing her eyes to shutter in an obvious grimace.
Damn.
She is quick to rebuke herself for the unwelcome slip up of her abilities. He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him either, what would he think of such a statement? It was rude she thought, for her to submerge into another’s emotional past without good cause, or their express permission and Breckin had begun to think that her handle on such things had become firmer, but this error had proved otherwise. She had been warned after all, that this gift may be sporadic at times. Most likely, the sudden appearance of a dragon in Nerine had been enough of a surprise to cause her to slacken the already slippery reins.
Picking up the fallen smile, it now turns apologetic in nature, “I apologize for being rude, I’m still learning to control my empathic echoes gift. It’s erratic sometimes, and regrettably causes me to speak before I think on occasion.”
Temptation is there to say more, but she stills her tongue from rambling further, instead choosing a simpler offering instead. ”My name is Breckin, welcome to Nerine.”
your world is still lacking of me, how do you love?
The growl that slips past his lips is precarious, predatorial. It slips like water, his lips a broken dam. Before Castile could stop it and reconsider, the rumbling noise is already shuddering the air between them. It happens on instinct as he recoils from Breckin’s invasive touch. He straightens himself afterward and composes himself, but the flash of danger is an unmistakable chain reaction. At least, he muses, she is apologetic. The sincerity of her voice adds grease to his rusty gears while shifting into amiability, making it easier to nod his head in understanding. ”It’s risky entering someone’s mind,” but for whom is it more dangerous?
It would have startled him to hear his own name spoken from a stranger’s tongue had he not felt the tender brush of her consciousness thumbing through his memories. The touch was faint, almost undetectable, but Castile has experienced once – maybe twice – before. It sends a chill cartwheeling down the length of his spine, loathing the idea of his mind being so open and vulnerable. Mother’s thoughts were a protected sanctuary, a gift that he often envied after experiencing his first invasion.
But Castile understands the difficulty of harnessing a power. It’s a taxing process that can take months – sometimes years – to control. Sighing, he levels his mismatched gaze on hers, searching them for answers he has no questions for. Breckin, she adds, introducing herself sheepishly. A feeble grin lifts a corner of his mouth. ”Nice to meet you. I suppose you already know my name.” There is no sense echoing what she had already gathered from his memories, but he can’t help to wonder how much she saw or the extent of his emotions she could sense and relive. Unable to contain himself, his husky voice drawls, ”What did you learn?” From me, he doesn’t add. Did she see how he was raised as a prince by an iron-fisted Queen or how he struggled to understand being dragonborne? Did Breckin witness his highs and lows, loves and heartaches? Or did she only feel the infectious joy he had always known when roaming Nerine’s shores?
There is an amused gleam in the silver and orange of his eyes as they first peek past the woman – to see Nerine and its familiar splendor – then to look at her and read her expression.
09-02-2018, 03:23 PM (This post was last modified: 09-02-2018, 03:24 PM by Breckin.)
Unknowingly to her, he had felt her mistaken touch feathered upon his mind, and it seemed to have spurred the still kindled flame of beast within him. The force of his dissenting growl vibrated underfoot, rising into her core. Now guarded, her musculature tensed can coiled in reciprocation and now seeking a lower center of gravity, she reached her cognitive whim to clutch at the at one of the sharp conch fragments she had ensnared in her tail. But she makes no move to threaten him, and merely waits unmoving, unwilling to provoke him any further, peering at him with dark eyes and curious inclination of her spotted head. She had already apologized, now it was up to him to decide his next course of action. There would be little she could do if he did so choose to attack, she was not much of a warrior, but the simple, silly stubbornness within her would not allow her to flee.
But the painted beast’s demeanor rapidly alters its course, and as he seems to relax, she reflects his actions, releasing the tension of her frame; though she still holds in him in a respectably, weary regard, still mildly apprehensive.
His statement on the risks of entering someone’s mind cause her to quip with a short laugh of appreciation, “You speak with wisdom. I seem to question my own sanity on a daily basis.” It was true; the leopard woman still had difficulties discerning the own images of her past and emotions with those of others. It was tiresome and annoying, and yet still on most day, had been a blessing.
Nodding in acknowledgement, her voice holds a steady sincerity “Nice to meet you as well, Castile. I did not see much, as I stopped it before it progressed further. But it was only a brief image of you as a colt growing up on Nerine’s shoreline.” What she doesn’t add, is that she could have easily shown him the memory she’d unwillingly glimpsed, having learned recently that she could bring such memories back to the forefront of their owner’s mind. But she does not say this, seemingly there is no need, at least she doesn’t believe so, not with his reaction to her last accidental mental sifting still fresh in her own mind.
“Rest assured, it is not a habit of the Leviathan’s queen to search through someone’s emotional memories, even those of a stranger, not without good reason. In all open honesty however, I would have done so if you had opted to attack me. Obviously, that was not the path you chose to walk, and so I thank you for that, in more ways than one.” Breckin smiles with a brightness easily met in her eyes, “What brings you back to our little piece of Beqanna’s paradise, Castile?”
A lopsided grin, accompanied by a halved laugh, slightly softens the draconic edges of his face. ”Unfortunately,” he admits as his eyes narrow thoughtfully, ”it’s not the first time someone has invaded my mind. It likely won’t be the last either, but it doesn’t lessen the blow of it.” Inwardly, Castile shudders remembering the vulnerability of his mind as the walls broke down. Any invasion is uncomfortable and unwelcomed, but at least Breckin is apologetic and sincere. The goodwill in her voice curbs the edge in his voice and posture. ”I can only imagine the difficulty in perfecting an ability like that.” Hers needs to be contained within the confines of her mind. His? Castile’s was mostly physical and even then, it had taken him years to harness such immense power. So, he can sympathize with her and forgive her trespassing with little more than a nod and harmless snarl.
She confesses what she had seen, but it is truly minimal in the broad spectrum of his life. Nodding his head, he replays the memories that she saw. It brightens his face, almost makes him unrecognizable as the joy from the memories branches out from his core and surfaces. ”Yes,” he can’t complain of his childhood here. ”I was raised by my mother, Nayl, and my father, Lior, here in Nerine. I lived here for a while and even when I left to other kingdoms, Nerine always called me back.” Admittedly, Castile didn’t understand the magnetic pull because this was a matriarchal society; there had been no space for a gangly boy, no matter whose son he was. Nayl’s name has since lost its magnitude, and the role she played in Nerine’s history has likely been forgotten. That’s why he doesn’t add that he was the son of the Queen because what use is that information now? It’s null and moot. He is just a stallion now, roaming Beqanna in search of his purpose.
Castile blinks as Breckin reels him back to this moment, pulling him from the lull of his thoughts and memories. A boyish grin – something he had once been known for – lifts the corners of his mouth and a haphazard shrug trembles across his shoulders. ”I don’t think the Nerinians would’ve taken kindly to their Queen being eaten.” If he ever wanted to kill – to taste the tenderness of his own species – it would be all too easy. A quick shift and he would be large enough to quickly consume a horse.
But no, he isn’t like that anymore.
Right?
”Honestly?” She asked a fair question that demands an authentic answer. What can he say? It wouldn’t make sense to her just as it has never made sense to him. Glancing sideways to the claw marks in the soil surrounding him, he searches for an appropriate response.
A distraction?
A purpose?
A home?
A sense of hope?
A hot wave of air is sighed from his lungs, a small plume of smoke trailing his lips as his mismatched eyes turn to look at her again, heavy with internal conflict. ”Maybe you could tell me?” He expects she will stare at him in bewilderment, like he’s crazy. How can she possibly answer for him? ”I can never seem to stay away from Nerine for very long. I need a purpose, I think. I was a Regent in Loess, but it wasn’t Nerine. It didn’t sate my thirst.” The Cliffside forever calls to him, and deep down, he knows he wants to dig his talons into the granite and take flight off its edge
Well, the good news is that, so far, Nerine did not disappoint in the ways of excitement. And for a curious filly like Nalia, that proved to be one of the best things about her new home. She knew she still had a number of the residents to officially meet and introduce herself to, but so far, she'd already made two friends and had a myriad of hiding places to continue exploring. Plus, whenever the ocean waters receded, she took the chance to explore the available caves, anxiously awaiting the day when the change of seasons would make the others visible once again.
On this particular day, the sun was well into the sky. A chilled breeze ran through the air, ruffling Nalia's feathers and chilling her winter coat. Though quite thick to keep her warm during the frigid nights here by the coast, Nalia's coat still retained its slim appearance, making it so that she could still be considered pretty even though the fur on her legs and body had grown past its normal length. She didn't really care whenever her winter coat grew; she was just happy that it helped keep her warm.
Nalia sometimes went off to graze by herself, away from the heart of Nerine, on the off occasion she wanted peace and quiet. Normally, she was quite the social butterfly, wanting to meet new faces, ask how everyone was faring through the seasons, and hopefully make a few friends along the way. But on some other days, she was the complete, polar opposite; antisocial, wanting to be left alone. She'd still act friendly, but if you wanted to speak to her about something, you'd need to come find her. Otherwise, she'd stay hiding out alone, relishing in the quiet sounds of the forest and mountains Nerine afforded.
But it seemed fate had other ideas that day.
Though a decent distance from the border, Nalia suddenly got an odd feeling in her gut. What made her confused was it was the same feeling she got whenever she was being watched by a predator. And ever since an incident in her youth, she'd learned to trust that gut feeling, no matter the situation. Her head went up and her eyes looked around wildly, on the lookout for the predators animals she knew off sight and smell. But upon seeing nothing, her ears twitched and she stretched out her muzzle, inhaling, trying to see if she could pick up a smell.
Still nothing? Well, that definitely made no sense then. Why would her gut tell her to watch out if there wasn't anything nearby?
And then she saw it. A shadow, something big and large, moving quite fast through the sky. Nalia didn't have to look up to know it wasn't a cloud, they never moved that fast, even in a land quite like Beqanna. Looking up, she saw it just before it disappeared; a massive creature, not like anything she'd ever seen before. Her curiosity was piqued, her muscles twitching in excitement. She had to go and see what that was, the feeling in her gut being pushed aside completely by her youthful tendencies.
Opening her own wings, the filly started cantering for a few strides before taking to the sky, heading in the direction the creature had disappeared in. She circled in the sky a few times to try and see it, figuring something that size would be quite easy to spot against Nerine's rocky backdrop. For a moment, she stopped, flapping her wings like a bird to hover for a brief second to look around, wondering where in the world something that big could've gone. She spread her wings again and glided through the sky, her eyes looking down to see if her luck could turn.
Sure enough, it did, just not in the way she expected. Having changed her course to fly a little lower for a better view, Nalia spotted two small shapes down among Nerine's rocks. It wasn't her favorite thing to land on, but Nalia decided to investigate anyway. The filly tucked her wings and headed down, arriving late enough that she did not see the plume of smoke that, unknown to her, one of the horses down below had produced.
Opening her wings early so she wouldn't create a draft, she landed several yards away from the two shapes and trotted the rest of the distance to greet them. Upon seeing one of them, a recognizable spotted mare, Nalia dipped her head in greeting. She hadn't spoken personally to the Queen, much less gotten to know her, but everyone in Nerine knew of the newest monarch, even a fresh resident like the filly herself.
"Hello Breckin," she greeted, a bright, innocent smile on her face. "You look well."
Then, her hazel eyes turned to the stallion. He was a handsome fellow, with a striking coat color and wings much like her own. From this distance, she couldn't see his mismatched eyes, but his tall, stocky form, evidence of his breeding, was quite imposing. If Nalia was careful, she might shrink back, but she was a youthful innocent, sometimes still to naive for her own food.
"Hello there. What's your name? Have you come to visit Nerine?" she questioned, tilting her head slightly, wondering what his answers would be.
Somehow the smile she wore herself manages to broaden more, watching quietly as the dragon shifter seems to change before her eyes again. The dragon had morphed to a wary, guarded stallion, and now the wary, guarded stallion appeared to fade in the shadows cast by the warmth and brightness his expression now held. Breckin cocked her head thoughtfully, wondering what had stirred the reaction; But she could guess, and guessing was all that she would do.
Nodding at the mention of the names of his parents, her ears drift lazily to the side; she knew the names, but nothing beyond some chance residual memories left ingrained throughout Nerine. Those occurrences were rare, only seemingly brought into her own cognition if she was deliberately searching for the emotional memories left embedded in the surroundings where they had happened.
Nerine always called me back.
That grabs her attention, enough so, that she thinks little of her boldness as she moves closer to him, carefully treading between the jagged grooves of earth his talons had so easily torn through. He had been speaking yet, answering her question, and his remarks are easily registered. Pulling up just a horse length shy, the dark brown of her eyes search the contrasting colors of his own, tilting her in consideration of his request.
"I roamed all of Beqanna when I first came here a few years ago, trying to find a home that suited me best. Nerine...she is a hard one to ignore when she calls to you." Smiling in understanding, she pauses as a coastal gale runs across them. "Help me protect her, Castile." It was obvious the painted stallion had fearsome talent, something that Nerine and her Leviathans could use to defend its children and residents in the turbulent tides of kingdom affairs. It would put some ease on her mind, to add to their strength, especially with those who had such a devotion to their birthplace.
"You'll find that Nerine is not as strictly matriarchal as she used to be. Men are able to climb ranks if they earn it as the women do, the same can be said for the Brotherhood in Ischia." Shrugging slightly, she laughs softly, "Don't take this the wrong way or anything, and I may be biased, but I think you'd do better in the Sisterhood."
A soft voice calls to them, and her spotted head turns to the promising girl that Ardashir had recently recruited. Dipping her head in polite greeting and smiling warmly, Hello Nalia. It's good to see you. After the girl begins to question the draconic man, her own gaze shifts back to him, eyebrow slightly raised in anticipation if he would choose to call Nerine home again, or if he'd only be visiting after all.
His expectations are met when they are joined by a young girl sprung by her curiosity. Initially, she regards her superior with a smile and respectful nod before darting her eyes in Castile’s direction. Unwavering, he meets her gaze. ”Castile,” his voice rumbles like the rocks tumbling down Nerine’s cliffs. He is a son of the land – he always will be – and while his foreboding appearance mirrors that of the landscape, his metallic eyes are softer upon seeing her blissful ignorance and curiosity. Enough time has passed, he presumes, that everything can begin fresh in his life (with the exception of the family he created). Nerine captures him (it had when he was a mere boy) but this time, she burrows her nails into his flesh to anchor him to these cliffs and peninsula. Breckin confirms how life has changed and how welcoming they actually are of men – of him.
When she draws nearer, Castile has to consciously continue breathing otherwise it would catch in his throat under her scrutiny. She doesn’t dismiss him (did he actually fear that?) and instead searches the pools of his eyes before demanding that he help her protect Nerine. It hadn’t been a question. The flatness in her tone is a quieted order and proposition that he gropes and hugs to his chest. Castile responds with a curt, quiet nod. It’s done. Their hands have shaken and a warming elation ignites the fire in his core. It roils in his gut, but he tampers it enough for it to only be a plume of black smoke that curtains his face for a few moments before lifting and once again exposing his sharply-edged face. Glancing down to Nalia, he grins. ”I guess I’m staying, not visiting.”
”The Brotherhood,” he repeats with curiosity as his focus rises back to Breckin’s face, ”led by Brennen?” The stallion had always wanted to forge a bachelor herd; memories of the idea flicker to mind, but they’re fuzzy. He had been just a colt then clutching to his mother’s side and listening to her political tangents. Brennen’s name was poison on mother’s tongue, but it hadn’t always been that way. Rolling his shoulders and inclining his head, Castile’s response slips as more of a drawl. ”I’m not interested in following him.” Rather than experiencing the stallion himself, he sticks to what he grew up knowing. ”Tell me how you want me to help Nerine.” With a confirming nod, Castile offers an amiable (and eager) grin.
The stallion introduced himself by the name Castile, in a voice that made Nalia's cheeks turn a bit red when she heard the melodious sound of his voice. Nalia did not arrive in time to hear much of what Breckin had to say to the stallion in regards to how the kingdom system had shifted since his last time here, so the filly stayed quiet, unsure of how exactly she could join in this conversation just yet.
For some reason too, hearing that Castile had plans to stay made Nalia quite happy. She was intrigued by this stallion and wanted to get to know him. Perhaps he could become a friend of hers, tell her tales of the lands beyond Nerine he has visited? What could he tell her of the other kingdoms she had yet to explore? Would they be exciting enough to entice her away from home?
Castile then questioned Breckin on how she wanted him to help Nerine, instead of retreating to Ischia and joining the Brotherhood. Nalia didn't understand why he did seem opposed to that; the two were sister kingdoms. Was there some sort of bad history, or memories the stallion had?
Whatever the case, Nalia stood quietly by to listen to what Breckin had to say, also wanting to know what she had planned for the multi-colored stallion.
When the haze of black vapor rises to reveal the etchings of his face again, the Leviathan queen’s dark eyes brighten significantly even more so when the rumble of his voice quakes through her chest.
Breckin nods once in affirmation in response to the dragon’s question, confirming that Brennen was in fact the sovereign of the Brotherhood. “Good.” Her smile broadens, pleased to hear that he would rather place his loyalties in the northernmost kingdom as opposed to the tropical island. Honestly, he would probably do well and flourish anywhere he might choose to rest his head if he so had the desire. Her intuition sensed a quiet strength and a kind soul, tethered to an imposing body gifted with power and fortitude. An interesting melding she thinks, and her curious nature bubbles and churns, craving a deeper conversation with the painted gent. Another time though, today it would be best to let him try to find some peace within the cliff lined kingdom.
“I’ll place you into the war caste, I think you’ll do well there. Rome is the Vilajero, my highest ranking warrior below the Champion, Ardashir. Perhaps they might have a task for you if you would search them out. But if you come to find that border rounds, participating in mock battles and defending Nerine’s residents are not your forte, then simply say so. It is not a binding placement.”
Before she allows herself to consider otherwise, she has drawn closer to him, sparing a fleeting second to bump her charcoal nose into the faded black of his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one held with the weight of a thankfulness and appreciation for his wanting to be there.
The day was closing, and there were still other items she had yet to see to. Taking a step back then, her gaze passes towards Nalia with a quick nod. And when she turns to leave at last, she hesitates long enough to shoot him a final warm smile, “Welcome home, Castile.”
