"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
She never should have left home. Of course, she didn't actually realize this, she was far too preoccupied with other things, like the way people would come and go in this world but hardly anyone stopped even for a moment to talk to one another or take in the beauty of the lands around them. Of course, her parents would take ages to realize she was missing. Keav and Bastille had been entirely content with their blue diamond eyed daughter. This relaxed parenting style had lent itself to Astana becoming a free spirit full of joy and laughter as the gods had known she would be all along. As one might expect, she is giggling quietly to herself, thinking about stars and dreams. Her delicate burble of laughter is like a tinkling of silver almost, perhaps with the sharpness of a diamond. The pale filly made of gold smiles with something that lights up her entire face, so reminiscent of her mother’s own smile, and the older sister that she has met only once. The pale girl is still so young, far too small to be out here all alone. Multifaceted eyes look around, the snow reflecting the sunlight into her eyes of diamonds speckled with flecks of blue.
The pale girl offers a distant, but gentle smile for the world, humming in sweet lilting tones. clearly, on this winter’s day, Astana was traveling no where in particular. Perhaps, for the most part, because Astana had no where to go in the first place. No where to go and no one to see. Her small hooves sink into the snow when she walks, if only a little, after all, she is such a tiny little thing. A tiny little thing to be out in this great wide world.
All alone.
But, if you were to ask her, she would say she didn't feel alone. No, she had her stars to keep her company, and her thoughts and her songs. In fact, Astana had perhaps all the company she would ever need! She was content to question the world with curious eyes and a sweet smile. Content just as well too to make up her own answers for the questions to which she received nothing for. But, tell her she is wrong and Astana may tell you to just dream a little bit harder and talk to the stars for a little bit longer.
The sun is setting.
While Astana would bask under her precious stars for all eternity, she does think she may fear the dark, where hides all the monsters Bastille had told his daughters about. She retains her mother’s grace, walking through the strange land as quiet as a ghost and twice as unnerving. She is young, she is naive, and a bit clueless at times, but that childish mind has still retained some sort of safety instructions her mother had given her. If you are lost, find an adult, preferably a mare. Mares are usually more apt to help foals. This, now this is something Astana remembers. This she knows. And so when she sees a female before her in the dimming light, Astana shuffles those quiet, ghostly steps towards her, though her luminescent coat far keeps her from being discreet. “Hi, your an adult,” she says, staring up at her with those flashy diamond eyes, like bright little satellite dishes, so large on her small, dished face. “Do you want to help me?” She says then, tilting her tiny head. “Maybe we can be friends.”
It’s not often she trails the forest paths without purpose, but even a woman infamous for knowing far more than she should needs a moment to herself once in a while. Of course, she has never been much of one for idleness, and it is not long before her thoughts return to her kingdom. To the upheaval sweeping so freely across Beqanna, ripple effects of a plague still newly cured. Oh, those embroiled in the midst of it may not realize, but with her far-reaching vision, it’s so easy to trace the lines. To find the stone in the center that had started those pulsing waves.
It’s laughable almost, if she were one to laugh.
With a soft sigh, she lifts her gaze to the canopy overhead, finding the bare places where velvet black and twinkling stars peek through desolate branches. She should appreciate the simple beauty around her more, but she always seems to find something vastly more entertaining. It’s addicting, almost, to dig and sift through the endless information out there, unearthing the pieces no one is supposed to know. So many wandering in blithe ignorance of the easy way in which she plucks apart their darkest secrets.
It’s not often she is caught off guard. But then, she had not been seeking a small, innocent child who has seen far too little of the world. While it’s true she finds those who are easily hidden (children even, who are so often unwittingly unobtrusive and dismissed) to be the most useful in her searches, the sheltered are far less so. And this girl is of the latter.
Under normal circumstances, she might have spared her a fleeting glance before continuing on, but rather than traipsing past, the youngling instead approaches her with wide-eyed naivete. Unreadable blue eyes dropping to the golden child, Heartfire considers her silently, features a chill mask hiding the heart that beats beneath.
Though she had always had something of a soft spot for children, she has never been mothering material. While she had raised her own children willingly enough, even they would admit she had never been the warmest or most affectionate. Still, she cannot help but find herself idly concerned when the child expresses such an earnest need for help.
Of course, any half competent parent would not have allowed their child to become so lost, and she wonders what kind of parents might have misplaced such a girl. A brief, simple search is all it takes to discover the answer. An answer that brings something akin to irritation with it. While she would never be so cruel as to outright punish their neglect, she does think they could rather do with a lesson in responsibility.
After a long moment of silent consideration, one in which the child had undoubtedly begun to wonder if she might answer at all, Heartfire tilts her head before offering a faint smile. “Of course,” she agrees before dropping to lightly touch the girl’s forehead. “Are you lost?” She pauses then, briefly this time, recalling the niceties of conversation. Normally she wouldn’t bother, but this situation seems to call for something a little different. “I’m Heartfire, by the way.”
07-14-2019, 11:15 PM (This post was last modified: 07-14-2019, 11:21 PM by Astana.)
ASTANA // MAKE A WISH ON WHISPERED STARS
There had always been a part of Astana that has always longed to leave her desert home behind and run until she can no longer feel her legs or see her home on the horizon. Since birth, there has been the nagging feeling in her heart that she doesn't actually belong here, that Astana was meant to roam this earth only by starlight and hanging on the edges of dreams, and perhaps some day she will. Some long nights ago, the golden little girl stood at the edge of just such a place, staring into the dark face of surreal oblivion, and found that if she could just force herself to take that one step, it could swallow her and welcome the dreamer girl into its broken arms. Astana wants this more than anything, to exist wholly in the world of dreams where is no mortal clock ticking away the seconds she has to live, and yet she would not give up this place, a place where she has family and friends, and new friends in the making, for anything.
But then, Astana is young still and does not know many things about this world, though she hopes that someday all if not most of it will become clear. Already she knows so much, perhaps more than a child ought to know. She knows she has an older sister, she knows the magnificent world of her mother’s dreams and the longing in her father’s heart to share them with her, and she knows her twin sister, the star creator.
The girl created of pale gold does not understand or apply tact, can barely even control her insatiable curiosity most of the time, but she remains silent as the mare simply stares down at her with subtle expression to small to read. She smiles, still, because how can she not smile when such a bold adventure now presents itself to her?
She grins that same reckless grin her mother has always had since she was her age. It hangs on her pale face, pretty as always. She doesn't think, in this moment, that she is lost, Astana believes she is exactly where she is supposed to be, even if that could not be further from the truth. If she is lost, well, then that was the start to this grand big adventure. She ought to be back home, in the desert, with her mother and her father and her twin sister. But, for now, she just keeps staring up at the mare with those eyes made of diamonds, catching and twirling whatever light it can find. “Thank you,” her voice a glassy lullaby. She feels the mare toucher forehead and those diamond eyes close, falling dark beneath those long, dark lashes. “I think so,” Astana offers, her voice holding nothing more than mild curiosity for her situation at hand. “I am quite far from home, I’m from the desert,” she adds, as if the mare will know exactly where she used to live. “I am Astana,” she says, and it begins.
She may never be a warrior or even a scholar (she hardly shows any potential attention span, you know) or anything of any importance, but Astana will never mind because she is free, and that's all she'll ever want.
Curiosity is a vital thing. An endless lure that Heartfire knows far too well. And something she finds supremely beneficial in others when directed appropriately. Perhaps the girl had lived a somewhat sheltered life, but curiosity is something Heartfire can understand. Something she can hone. A useful talent - more so than any number of others the girl before her might have possessed.
Astana had lived a somewhat idyllic childhood to this point. A fact the roan mare can see as clearly as she can see the trees rambling through the forest. She might have seen some incredible things, but for all of that, it is a limited knowledge. One of splendor and wonder rather than intrigue and secrets. For all that, she sees a great deal of potential in this child, and she wonders then if her parents would even bother to seek her out. And if they did, would they find her?
Possibly. Possibly not. Only time would tell.
Her gaze softens almost imperceptibly as she gazes down at the innocent delight suffusing Astana’s golden features. It’s easy to forget the simplicity children can bring to one’s life. Something she so often lacks in her own. Perhaps it would do her some good to have a child to remind her of these things from time to time.
“I was from the desert once too,” she replies, sharing the simple, near-forgotten fact without prompting. A rare thing for the blue and white woman. “Unfortunately there are no more true deserts here. Perhaps you’d like to stay with me until we can discover where you belong?”
She neglects to mention she could easily obtain that information. There would be plenty of time for that later, after she had decided what to do. After she had some time to consider the potential in this situation more fully.
08-01-2019, 04:42 PM (This post was last modified: 08-01-2019, 04:43 PM by Astana.)
ASTANA // LETS GO CHASING STARS THIS EVENING
From day one, Astana had been full of questions, looking up to her parents in a way that she believed they held all the answers. When, in reality, her parents knew little, they just knew little about many different things. Even in her mother, in all her immortal wisdom, her knowledge was painfully slim, so tucked away by the abandonment of her mate. She filled in what she could with stories, teaching the girls right from wrong silly tales. Like the story of the coyote, who had jumped and jumped at the Oasis trees, trying to get that ripened piece of fruit, only to give up, declaring the fruit sour without having even a single, delectable taste. She had reminded the girls that although something may be hard to reach, it would be wise not to dismiss it.
This journey was hard and strange, but Astana knew better than to simply turn back now.
Questions perch on her lips, like little fledgling bird ready to fly the nest for the first time. But there is something about this mare that keeps them from taking off just right this moment. Astana finds her stunning, in a way that she is not like anyone she has ever met, but the roan coat makes her think of her older half sister. A sister than Astana found mysterious and alluring and celestial. She likes that she is reminded of her, if even for a small moment.
That softening of her gaze is the only thing Astana needs for the butterflies in her stomach to settle to a quiet flutter, and her smile to brighten with upturned lips and crinkled cheeks. The diamond eyed girl knows that they will become friends, companions even, because Astana takes the smallest of gestures and makes them into something magical.
And now, here is where the main really happens, where she believes it must be destiny that caused her to meet Heartfire on a day just like today. Those diamond eyes catch the sun and reflect a multitude of colors within them. “You lived in the desert too?” She asks, excitedly. Then, with that next suggestion, she reaches up a little hand and lets it rest firmly in the palm of a stranger that she believes will lead her into no harm and protect her from all danger. “I think I would very much like that,” she says then, bobbing her head in affirmation to the mare’s plan.
And then those little diamond eyes peer upwards at the mare she has found such comfort in. “Where are we going?”
There is beauty in the innocence and naivete of children, but there is incredible danger too. Their lack of knowledge of the world could lead them exactly where this child had been brought, with no understanding of the hazards that might await them.
In a sense, Astana is fortunate to have found Heartfire rather than another. Perhaps her motivations are less than pure, but she is not a cruel or callous woman by nature. No, it is her vast understanding of the darkness that exists in this world that leads her to take this child’s proferred hand rather than any malicious intent. She may believe her parents inept and foolish, but young Astana at least would not suffer beneath her care.
Her small offering of her origin is enough to draw the girl’s interest, enough to entice her to place her unwitting trust into the blue and white mare. It’s mildly trouble that this is all it takes, even though she had done so knowing what the outcome would likely be. She might have liked to be proven wrong. But then, she so rarely is.
A faintly encouraging tilt of her lips is all she offers in response though, the smile such a rare thing on those so often unreadable features that it nearly transforms them into something entirely unexpected. Reaching down, she lightly touches her once more on the forehead, a gently approving gesture, before lifting her gaze to peer into the distance.
“We’re going to Nerine,” she answers after a moment, her gaze returning to Astana’s. “My home. It’s beautiful. There are tall cliffs overlooking the sea. The ocean gets wild sometimes, but it is quite fun to watch. I’ll show you when we get there, if you like.”
