"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
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
Any excuse to leave the Pampas these days would be a good one. Avoiding Noah like the Plague mostly consists of days of carefully choosing a spot in the Pampas that’s not easily overlooked, or shifting into whatever kind of plant he feels like that day. Plants are her favourite, right?
Honestly, Vita’s idea of him visiting Ischia some more is a good one. He grabs the excuse to leave, today picking the form of a seagull, and he flies over quickly. Not like he’s got anything better to do at any rate?
Upon arrival, a variety of colourful birds greet him - parrots. They’re interesting, and chatting among each other in horse-like speech every now or then, things they’ve picked up from others living here. With a grin, the mutating creature changes into one of them; they’ll have better vocal cords than a gull. The yellow parts of him get a glow of gold, and the blue shell markings seem to want to stay, also.
Flapping over the beach, unlike the parrots do, the now colourful creature looks around to find out who else lives here - perhaps he can find Eva or Aeolus, or Vita - or someone new. New people are always a joy to meet, as well.
Her head sang with the vibrancy of the surface land. Everywhere were bright colors and loud noises, much louder than she was used to below. She missed the melody of whale song and the chitchat of fish and other sea creatures. The parrots up here were so noisy, all of the time! Even at night they peeped and chirruped from their roosts. They were as bad as shrimp that way.
The main compensation for the noise the birds made was the bright picture they created. It seemed like there was a bird in every colour, though after a while she was able to group them into differing species. So far, the blue and gold ones were her favorite. They made her understand where parrotfish got their names from.
Today the parrots were as cheery as ever, adding their voices to the rich ambiance that played over the island scene. Aquaria watched them with mild fascination. So many things flew here. Two of the horses she'd met so far, even had wings. She wouldn't trade her oceanic ability for anything in the world, but it was still interesting to think about what the skyfarers saw. What was the world like from above instead of below?
One particular parrot seemed lost. It was a shimmering shade of blue, almost metallic where the sun hits it. Patches of gold shine out in places. It was like her favorite parrots, but more vibrant in every way. Maybe a bit larger, too. She observed as it made its way over the sand, seemingly searching for something. The strange creatures were almost dolphin like in their intelligence, so she wondered at what had gotten it's attention so thoroughly.
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
The blue and gold parrot doesn’t really try to hide; he knows that if he stands out, anyone who knows him will be suspicious of his true nature, exactly like he wants it to be. But as he crosses the beach air, using the sand’s warmth to lift him with the littles effort, he doesn’t spot someone he knows - he spots someone else entirely, another female - is Ischia made of pretty females? That would be a lucky discovery - and she’s spotted him as well, though he doesn’t think she knows he is different from the parrots other than his colouring, just yet.
For a split second, he debates messing with her head like he once did with Ruinam (or rather, with Ruinam’s fox companion), but then he just lowers himself to her head’s level. Flapping in place, his green eyes look her over with joy in his eyes for having found someone to talk to (and honestly, someone super pretty to look at while talking, too). ”Good afternoon!” he wishes her, and thinks that that will be quite enough greeting from an otherwise random parrot to a mare. Let’s first see what she makes of it.
08-23-2019, 09:13 AM (This post was last modified: 08-23-2019, 09:13 AM by Aquaria.)
Aquaria blinked at the bird as he fluttered before her, with a very direct greeting. She'd heard the parrots could learn to mimic speech. But this seemed a bit... Clearer, than you'd expect a bird to be. She looks harder at the strange bird, looking for a clue as to his nature. "You're a strange creature, aren't you?" She muttered, nudging her nose to bump a his feathered chest.
"Good afternoon, I suppose." She replied a bit louder. Her ears twisted uncertainly. This island was full off all sorts of surprises. Glowing insects, huge flowers, talking birds. Nothing was as it seemed. It wasn't so very different from the world below, when she thought about it. There were fish that looked like rocks, octopi who could look like eels and coral branches. Not to mention basically every kind of sea horse that were practically invisible in their own habitats. So maybe it wasn't so far fetched that this bird was more than he seemed.
"Alright then, what are you, really?" She asked, suddenly certain that he couldn't possibly be just a parrot. Something about the eyes, and the colors, and a hundred other little things. It just didn't add up to "parrot". The rigid crest on her neck flared challengingly. Camouflage had all sorts of purposes. Sea horses used it to avoid being eaten. Rockfish used it to find other fish to eat. She wasn't sure yet what the birds intention was in disguising his true nature.
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
Hanging relatively still in the air is quite hard for a parrot, one might say unnatural - like many other behavioral queernesses of this certain specimen. He loses a bit of his altitude after being bumped with the mare’s nose, but this doesn’t matter to him as he grins to her in a way that any normal parrot couldn’t have. It seems he’s caught her attention, and he doesn’t mind the prodding by a pretty woman, if he’s honest.
She wishes him a good day too, still examining him, and the bird nods to her as he continues their conversation. ”Thanks Ma’am. Sometimes I think the air here is much better than where I currently live.” he muses, but thinks that maybe that has to do with his own messing with things. Still, it doesn’t really bother him nor should it her.
He’s about to ask for a name and possibly introduce himself, but she already gives. Making a mock-mid-air bow first, the bird pulls back up after his little stunt to continue their conversation. ”I’m everything and nothing - anything you want, really. But I was born a horse, if that’s what you’re after.” And, like that, he lands in the sand besides her and shifts back to his birth-form; a knabstrup stallion with golden spots. He smiles at her like a child might have when with some sort of invention to present, then grinning a little more obviously as he studies her face for her reaction. ”I’m Aodhán.”
She had felt off balance since the beginning of this encounter. It was the feeling of being on the outside of some big joke, but no one would tell her the punchline, and she wasn't liking it so far. He's mocking her, she thinks, playing with her. The delicate curves of her ears twisted back in frustration. At least he didn't seem to be local..
The deep violet pools of her eyes rolled back at his roundabout introduction, only to snap back to the fluttering form as he flickered and shivered before her. She'd been right, this was no natural born parrot. With a squeal of surprise that she immediately regretted, Aquaria took in the smug featured stallion now standing firmly in the sand. He was taller than her, a bit of an adjustment after looking into the eyes of a parrot.
To make matters worse, he was actually sort of good looking. Sort of. The way he moved made it seem like he was perfectly aware of his own looks. Her mouth twisted into an unimpressed smirk. "Aquaria." She replied shortly, uneasiness only slightly dampening her polite nature. "Anything I want, eh? How about a wad of kelp? I bet you'd be delicious." She smiled innocently, which might have been more believable without the impish glint in her eyes.
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
The spotted hybrid isn’t in fact, very old - childlike sometimes still, in a way, and naive is surely a good description at any rate. It’s a miracle that the mothers of his children hadn’t noticed yet, but perhaps they were almost as young as he and so, they could chalk it up to foolish innocence leading to their children. He loves children though, so it’s not a problem (again, that’s best described as a naive thought).
So when he presented his changing abilities, he’d have thought to impress, much like a child would present their biggest birthday gift to another and hope for compliments. It’d worked with many others.
But not with Aquaria. The opalescent mare is not impressed. In fact, she tells him to get lost in not so many words - a wad of kelp to eat? ”Eh?” he looks at her, completely thrown off his balance in the moment. Then he notices her purple eyes and devilish smirk and he’s not quite sure if she’s flirting or if she really wants to rid the world of him so easily.
Taking a heartbeat to let it sink in, he blinks his confusion from his face to study her. ”Delicious, hmm?” he repeats as if the word is foreign - but knows it should mean something positive. Then, he gives her a scrutinizing look and then, finally, a laugh follows. ”I suppose I could, since you ask so nicely. I never met a horse who liked eating kelp before.”
A swift shift later she stares at a horse, dark green entirely made of kelp, emerald green eyes yet the same as he peers at her. ”Interesting.” he muses, almost to himself. A kelp leaf drops off his mane to the ground and he studies it with an expression best described by one of a child encountering something slimy and dirty - one who is curiously wondering if what he found is edible or not.
Her attitude seems to be a source of confusion for the going stallion, and she can't help but feel satisfied because of it. Boys should feel confused more often. Still, there is a flicker of something like awe when she sees the gold spattered boy's pelt melt into the multitoned green of seaweed. Quickly, he was as leafy and damp as a real wad of kelp.
The little sea mare walked cautiously closer, sniffing the air around him uncertainly. "Kelp is one of my favorite foods..." She muttered, a little defensively. Her diet seemed to be a bit different than that of the land dwelling horses, but she'd never had a problem with it. Maybe it was something to do with being a nereid, but the extra salt never seemed to bother her when eating sea plants.
She got close enough to touch, nose lightly grazing the ragged edges of his now vegetable mane. While he seemed interested in the leaf that had fallen, she licked his neck curiously, forgetting that she was licking a living, breathing horse. The flavor was like nothing she'd encountered before. Kelp, sure, but there was a definite horsy aftertaste. She licked again, then nibbled a tiny piece. Not quite kelp. But not bad.
Oh, this was absurd. She giggled, licking his shoulder, nibbling the crisp tendrils that sprouted there. Shaking her head, she backed off. "Okay, not bad." She admitted wryly, licking her lips thoughtfully. "You're still weird. But at least I know you taste alright." She added with a shrug. To be fair, she didn't usually check to see if her new acquaintances tasted good or not. But that just seemed to be the way today was going.
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
The kelp-horse blinks at the mare who investigates him - with her mouth - though he remains relatively indifferent at her licking him. She’d mentioned tasting, after all. The first bite, out of mane section, is also something that he either didn’t notice or perhaps just tolerates.
He lifts his head to look at her, thinking himself rather triumphant in his kelp-appearance, when she takes a bite out of a more sensitive region. Perhaps she grazes what would have been a shoulder had he been fully horse; with a small yelp he changes back into horse, looking at her with eyes the size of teacups. ”Hey!” But she’s laughing, and seeing as the initial sting has already gone, he also chuckles at her conclusion. ”I don’t think that should be my only good quality, but for now I guess it’ll have to do.”
He shakes his mane and body, crookes an eye at the missing lock of mane and the tiny teeth-mark in his shoulder. ”You’re dangerous.” he concludes.
