"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 loved the River in all her outfits, the cold, the hot, the humid, the still or busy – all her forms and masks.
Today the gush of her waters is muffled by ice chunks, small dams of the sharp frozen substance jam the waterways and gather against the smooth stones. He breaks a thin layer with his two front feet; the shallow spot he chooses is only ankle deep even as the pebbles spread to let him sink a few inches. Winter is not yet in full swing, hardly any snow patching the forest floor and blanketing the skeletal limbs of the River’s giant tree guardian.
Twigs break and the ground echoes a shuffle off to the side of him, in the evening shadows of the hardwood trees tightly packed together on his side of the flowing waters. His head perks, ears following the sound, erect and twisting while he swallows the cold water in his mouth. His nostrils flex and relax and repeat, sucking in whatever smell he might be able to detect.
chemdog
astra inclinant, sed non obligant.
i thought he would try and find her again <3
things have changed for her since they met! haha
hope you don't mind. the sound he hears can be a deer or something, or her,
up to you <3 @[Breckin]
the truth that you'll find will always be the truth you hide
Wanderlust plagued her always.
When the tides of Nerine swelled and eased, she was always longing to break away from the riptide. But she fought through her selfish desires most days, donning the gilded crown with poise and composure when necessary, then tossing it aside on days like today to ground herself. Even if winter’s stark harshness was promising to be arguably cruel, she could find the beauty in it. Many of the fields and meadows remained innocent and undisturbed from the light snowfall of the night before, dusting the ground with a dazzling show of frozen glitter when the sun touched it just right.
The River wound just ahead of her, and she’d begun drifting into lazy personal musings of Leilan, and Wolfbane, and Scorch, and Ilma…
Rather carelessly, her ivory hoof meets with a downed branch, sending a painful snap over the evening’s still as it gave away beneath her weight. Breckin becomes rigid at the delayed flurry of movement to the side of her, only mildly eased by the recognizable flash of white belonging to a startled deer as it sought refuge towards the River’s banks.
When she breaks through the coverage of tightly knit trees, her roving eyes fall claim to a vaguely familiar stallion standing ankle deep in the shallows. His back was to her, seemingly on alert as the doe hightailed it further down the length of the watery ribbon. Cocking her rear hoof to shift her weight, she watches him a moment longer, while the workings of an amused smile tilt the corners of her lips into a smirk.
“You look a bit different when you’re not blurry.”
your world is still lacking of me, how do you love?
He recognizes her speckled little body right away and it brings a familiar grin upon his black lips. He just looks at her from his spot in the water that rushes around his ankles. She speaks first and when she does a throaty laugh booms, his head tilting back as he chuckles. “I am sure I do.” He turns and gets out of the water, moving just onto the shore, still a polite distance from her (he cannot reach her if he stretched to do so). “You, however,” He exhales softly and extends his nose in gesture, as if he might try and touch her even at her distance, “Are just as exquisite with sharpened edges.” His head coils back into place, one of his glistening teal eyes exposed to watch her and the other hidden by a veil of thick black forelock.
“How have you been, Breckin?” His head lowers as if he’s submissive company, “Time has been kind to you, I see.” He takes a few steps toward her, but keeps himself at a ‘safe’ distance still; leaning against the imaginary barrier that keeps him at bay.
The air is eerily quiet, after the deer’s departure it seems to have no activity aside from the speckled mare and ghost-faced stallion. Not even a breeze is filtering through now, or a creature stirring. Only the ambient trickle of cold river-water peacefully running its course.
the truth that you'll find will always be the truth you hide
A sliver of doubt had wriggled its way into her mind, perhaps her previously inebriated mind had failed her. This stranger would think she was crazy coming up behind him and blabbering about blurred lines. The doubt nearly makes her shuffle backward and turn away, but as her weight begins to shift again in preparation he turns to face her. Those oddly colored, piercing eyes meet with hers and the doubt she had begun to feel evaporates as his laugh fills her ears.
"Hello again, Chemdog." With a tilt of her head and a small smile reforming her lips, she watches with mild amusement as he boldly steps closer. "I've gained Nerine's crown since I saw you last. How have you been?" It's a deflection to his inquiry, an avoidance to what he was really asking. Truthfully, she was overwhelmed and tired, but that was neither here nor there and unimportant in the grand scheme of all things Beqanna lately.
In reciprocation, she extends her own muzzle in a friendly gesture, unwilling to further close the distance he had already set. She'd met him only once before and at the time she could remember him being amiable enough. But still, there had plenty happenings lately to convince her to bare more caution lately alongside her normal curious and kind nature.
"They say flattery will get you everywhere or nowhere in life and you seem to have quite the penchant for it, sir. Tell me, how has that charm of yours worked so far for you in this life?"
your world is still lacking of me, how do you love?
“The crown of Nerine, eh?” he says this through a sated grin, sliding his eyes over her body and then back to her eyes. He nods with a ‘not bad’ sort of contort to his face. “I’ve been well – ” He pauses to think of his sickness, the contagion drifting through his veins. It is suppressed by healing magic and so he finds it unimportant to mention he is infected. “Well enough, anyway.” He smirks, “I live in Loess.” he scoffs beneath his breath, but holds in his urge to complain about Beqanna being in general shambles. He would love to be soaking in one of those thermal pools – but no, there’s a Plague, and everyone is fucking around… no peace.
Okay, old man, calm down, damn.
He chuckles, her jab is met with a flash of humor lighting his eyes as he lets out his laugh. “It has gotten me here, this far – standing with a Queen, in a beautiful place.” He smirks with half of his mouth now, mischief dancing in his expression. He bends down, taking a few lazy steps toward a patch of red berries growing low to the ground, littered among the moss. He collects them with his careful black lips, prehensile and delicate as they harvest. He gets a mouthful and brings his head up to chew while he watches her. Some are sour, but most are minty sweet, their skins giving him something to grind in his teeth for a few minutes.
He swallows, “So how is Queendom treating you so far?” he chews the last tasty berry bits and then swallows.
