"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
You might think that Ophanim would learn to stop being nervous with each new baby he fathers, and yet he finds himself pacing nervously throughout Loess. He ascends each rolling hill and continues on to the next one, hardly minding the cacti needles or prickly bushes near him. The angel boy only winces a bit when they scratch at him but seems otherwise unaware of his surroundings as he meanders. His thoughts remain solely on Starsin and their unborn this season. Malone and Lilt had each been born perfect and beautiful, of course, but there is always some deep-rooted fear in his heart. He knows others have not been so fortunate.
He finally comes to a stop on one of the taller Loessian hills and spreads his wings for a moment. When he was younger, he used to stand like this for ages before he knew how to fly. Ophie used to love the feeling of the wind through his feathers and it brought him a sense of peace when he found himself troubled. Back then, his worries revolved around whether Starsin would come back or not. It all seems so laughable to him now.
With no moon visible in the sky and only the weak glow of the stars overhead, the countless eyes lining the underside of his wings seem to shine like the sun. The ring around his neck, like the tear trails down his cheeks, likewise burn brightly. The furrow of his brows does not detract from his handsome face but he would find no comfort in this fact. He is consumed entirely by his cycling thoughts of his unborn child. What would he name it? It was his turn, after all.
He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in and folds his wings across his back once more. The golden boy blinks and forces himself to take in his surroundings at the sound of hoofsteps behind him.
He had a lot to think about - several encounters lately, confirmed his suspicions about not always being trusted due to simply the way he looked, and if this could possibly change; he did as the fairy asked but he wondered now if it would ever be enough. He’d given so many times in so many ways, but still he was seen as someone who could possibly stab them in the back? And so he broods and walks - but his wife had always said he looked somber while brooding, and that it didn’t fit him. Truly it didn’t; an open, inquisitive and interested gaze marked him as much as the stupid jokes rolling off his tongue without much of a restraint, if there was any at all.
He’d left Beryl in a safe place for now, and took a walk wherever. It’s not his fault that Loess is so big that he can’t avoid it.
He only really notices that he entered the dragon king’s land again when someone else is near. He might have walked right through Loess to Sylva and Tephra, or to the sea, the scaled roan thinks, if he hadn’t figuratively bumped into this stallion.
”Oops.” he mumbles, looking at his surroundings as if waking up. A blink changes his swirling eye colour to a neutral light blue, assessing the stranger before him and slowly going into scrutinizing him. ”Sorry for just wandering into Loess, but…” he stops, not exactly knowing what to say to the golden tobiano.
He is familiar and unfamiliar, but Beqanna changed so many. Still, ‘can I check the underside of your wings’ didn’t seem like an appropriate question just in case it wasn’t him.
He tilts his head instead. ”That frown doesn’t suit your face.” he concludes.
and I don’t want you to think that I care I never would, I never could again
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Ophanim] sorry not sorry
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
He half expects Meraxes or Malone to come seeking him out, as they often do when they grow bored of their pranks on their poor mother, but instead it is a stranger who approaches. He doesn’t mind, though, and he quickly offers a smile in greeting. Ophanim is really only ever comfortable showing Starsin his more worrisome demeanor while he keeps a sunny demeanor for the rest of the world. Maybe he opens up to her because she’ll pry the troubled thoughts from him anyway, but he thinks it’s because he’s head over heels for her.
But the stranger is speaking and the golden boy laughs before giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t think we’ve closed our borders, so it should be fine. I hope,” he says, giving a quick glance around to see if Castile is looming or soaring nearby. Was he supposed to be keeping people out of Loess? He supposes it’s too late for that now so his attention returns to the other with a more relaxed expression than before.
His bright blue eyes watch Leilan as he speaks again, noting the frown he had worn only moments before. Ophie tilts his head curiously as he considers this for a moment before letting his gaze wander to their surroundings. It gets tiresome, pretending to be happy all the time, and he thinks he might wear himself out forcing on that smile all the time. His desert homeland has to turn brown and gray for winter to be reborn in the spring, just as he must express the storm of emotions he carries in him. But he isn’t one to share these sorts of thoughts with just anyone, so he simply smiles once more.
“So what brings you to Loess?” he asks, brushing the topic off and introducing a more pleasant one instead. “Personally, I live in Sylva with my family, but sometimes I miss living here.”
Hmm. Something is strangely familiar about this stallion, and it nags at his mind more often than not. Slightly distracted, he notes that the spotted male doesn’t seem to recognize him either though, and so he’ll keep wondering; he presumes for some time more. A name is neither given nor asked for, and the conversation doesn’t seem to go in that direction either.
For a moment, the roan wonders if it’d be better if he just excused himself and left the place. But then he’d never be able to put things together, and that doesn’t feel quite right either.
A small chuckle follows on the young(er) stallion’s conclusion on the border policy, and for a moment, his eyes seem to be somewhat green before returning to ice blue. ”I’m sure Cas won’t mind, provided I don’t break anything his precious fiery land.” He shakes his neck, golden mane falling on iced scales as he concludes he’ll never truly fit in with the Loessians. Still, Castile is the nearest thing to a friend who knows about the image of a dragon; luckily Leilan often doesn’t get recognized as one - but being recognized as an unfamiliar possible danger might be just as bad, or even worse, and his eye colour changes a moment with the thought to a darker blue, yet not for long. What would be the point?
What brings him to Loess? The scaled roan laughs a little. ”An accident this time, I swear. I was in thought and wandered about... and I suppose the kingdom is just too large to go around.” he concludes. Not when one doesn’t pay attention to where they’re going, anyway. But perhaps the other will get that from the way he talks about wandering.
The painted stallion decides to go on with a different topic; perhaps to avoid the reason of his previous brooding face. So the elder stud plays along - however, the topic of family isn’t his best happy-go-lucky tale. ”You’d be happy knowing where they are and living with them. Seeing your children grow up… I wasn’t always so fortunate.” Heck, usually he wasn’t. In fact he didn’t know where many of them were any more; every now and then he would wonder, but then he thought that it would be best not to interfere with their lives any more. Chryseis had made all his stupid decisions, but wasn’t able to see it, and his pointing it out had only made it worse. Ophie had been a near clone-copy in the beginning as well; he could only hope Jenova was a better mother than he a father. And Thorgal… maybe Roseen had been right, yet still Leilan would fear that the boy would have inherited something of his, that he could not set straight during his growing up. Naia was different thing entirely, too… he’d been truly lucky with Breckin’s children, even if their mom had suddenly bailed on him - no, don’t think about that now.
After that, well - nothing could really thaw him any more. Except Beryl perhaps… perhaps she reminded him of his nearly perfect daughters. Or perhaps she was a chance to start over and do it right, this time.
and I don’t want you to think that I care I never would, I never could again
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Ophanim] I wasn’t sure if you wanted to keep them in the dark a bit longer, so here’s this thing without a name introduction
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
He gives only a slight nod when the stranger says that Castile won’t mind and Ophanim hopes he’s right. The Loessian king has had a few unwanted visitors this year already. He chews the inside of this lip before brushing the thought from his mind and focusing instead on the answer to his curious question. Although he cannot recall ever accidentally wandering into strange lands, he does often find himself meandering between Sylva and this kingdom when he can’t seem to sit still. As he’s grown older, though, he’s taken a liking to gliding on warm air currents rather than walking.
“Oh, I could never leave them. I tried to once and I missed them the moment I was gone,” he says, his words ending in light-hearted laughter despite the grim memories of his departure. The angel boy had spent only a brief period of time apart from his children and his wife before they came searching for him. Even his most troublesome offspring are too precious to his heart for him to think of leaving again. He would miss the way Ciara horrifies him by catching field mice by their tails and eating them whole, or the way Meraxes and Malone fake their deaths for Starsin. His brood is full of mischievous sons and daughters but they are his, at the end of the day.
“So where are you from? Not anywhere in the south, I imagine,” he wonders with that faint grin still easing its way across his face. Ophanim has seen the stranger in passing, recently, but he doesn’t seem to linger enough to live in this region. Or maybe he’s entirely wrong and the other simply prefers to make himself scarce. There are days when the golden boy would much rather reserve his time for Lilt, his youngest, instead of bothering himself with socializing. “I settled here once the plague started up. Starsin, my very beautiful wife, was asked to be the advisor here. She’s very clever so it’s the perfect job for her.”
And he doesn’t mean to brag, but his love for her spills over into many of the things he does. He doesn’t consider that others may not be so fortunate as him.
11-15-2019, 03:21 AM (This post was last modified: 11-15-2019, 03:25 AM by Leilan.)
You’re uncontrollable and we are unlovable
There is a moment of recognition when he gives his answer in the other stallion, and Leilan likes to believe he’s not the only one doing certain stupid things in life. Perhaps the only one with a certain combination of stupid things, like this wandering thing, some fairy-prodding, dragon-prodding, and stupid jokes all in one, where others might do other stupid things. Whatever this young man’s combination was, there was a small overlap to be found, like there probably was with other horses as well - and it makes it easier to be understood. He’s met some others who never seemed to grasp the way he thinks, after all.
Since he can’t remember what in the face of this stallion is it that reminds him of something - and that it is likely that the other doesn’t know him - he concludes maybe this guy is related to someone he knows. He’s about to ask for names of relatives, when the subject of family makes him smile - the painted young man said he could never leave them, and the fondness in his face makes clear that he is luckier in his family relationships than Leilan himself. It gives him a slight pause, in which the subject changes, that Leilan is from somewhere not in the south.
To that he grins, and listens to the man naming his wife Starsin, and the Plague. Ah, yes, the Plague. The frosted roan shakes is head at the thought. ”I’m from… Nerine I think is the easiest answer? Or the Jungle, pending who’s asking, but that’s a long time ago. I claimed Icicle Isle when the Plague hit, but I’ve since given rule to my brother in arms, Jesper. We lived in Ischia for a time as the new Brotherhood under Brennen... Anyway, I call Hyaline’s snowy mountaintops my home these days, although I’m taking a sabbatical in Icicle Isle once more. Ice Fairy orchestrated that.” he rambles on about the places he lived, and realizes he hasn’t made it easier. With a bit of a guilty smirk on his face, he focuses on the blue eyed tobiano. ”I’m just no good at sitting still. That’s how one loses track of any family members, I guess.” He makes a face. ”Or an unfaithful wive.”
A sigh follows and he assesses Loess, thinking it best not to touch that subject - but it is easy to spill his thoughts to someone he doesn’t really know, and who doesn’t know him. ”Castile is from Nerine-or-the-Jungle too. But he did much better. Well not at first, but now. Told him to go if he really needed to find his kids… he never came back north.” And that, he supposes, made him lose track of his friends.
Is it really one thing or the other? He wonders now.
and I don’t want you to think that I care I never would, I never could again
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
If someone asked Ophie if he had done anything stupid in his life, he would probably say that he has not. To him, every mistake is merely a lesson to be learned from. But his mother always raised him to find the good in all things to that even the dark points in his life were a little more tolerable. After all, he and Starsin had now forged a bond between them that could stand the test of time. Her heart beats contentedly between his ribs and he draws comfort from her steady pulse thrumming in his veins.
Ophanim tilts his head curiously as the other explains that he is from Nerine, or maybe some place called the jungle. The only sort of jungle he can think of is Tephra, which he hopes is not where this frost-covered creature is from. He can still vividly recall the way the trees caught fire as he flew over them, billowing flames from his lungs. But Leilan is speaking still and he does his best to pay attention as he shares a summary of his life. He doesn’t know any of the names and so they mean little to him. Should he have shared this much? But then he mentions his wife and the angel boy blinks a few times.
“Oh.. I’m.. sorry to hear that,” he replies uncomfortably. Ophanim normally prefers to keep the unpleasant chapters of his life private and so he doesn’t quite know how to respond for a moment. He and Starsin had their fair share of arguments and betrayals, but they had come back stronger from each one. Even when they spent their brief moment apart, they had been ravenous for each other’s love and adoration. His heart knew no name but hers.
“I don’t speak to Castile very much. I’m usually preoccupied trying to keep my children in line,” he explains with a light laugh. “Somehow I ended up with a brood of daredevils.”
He’s thankful for his calmer daughters like Beulah and Soothe, the ones who are content to not pull pranks on their parents. Ophanim often wonders how so many of his offspring ended up being so wild considering he was a relatively well-behaved child. There were – and still are – times where his mouth got him into trouble but he never actively tried to terrify Jenova.
His rambling ends with a pause, and he notices the other looks a tad uncomfortable - too little too late, but nothing to do about it in the moment, for the moment has passed. A good thing, perhaps, that Ophanim rather continues their talk when Castile is mentioned, and talks about he is busy keeping his brood in line.
A knowing smile follows, then a little shrug. ”I think most children are, at some point. Though if you start to notice them having similarly challenging personalities, perhaps there’s some genetic influence, so to say.” The roan breathes deep, knowing all too well how his own children sometimes took after him - and they were little terrors in their own perfect ways - and some turned out as perfect and neat as their mother. He continues, then. ”It doesn’t matter how they turn out though. You’ll fall in love for all their little things, no matter what they look like or how much they misbehave.” A small shake of his head follows. ”If someone tells you a devil can’t be perfect, they don’t have kids.”
Over the course of time, the roan finds himself growing a little restless, their talk perhaps coming to a natural end - at least on this topic. ”You know, you never said what bothered you. Anything I can do or tell you, to ease your thoughts?” he wonders. Perhaps this changes the subject into a new conversation, or perhaps it’s time to leave - either is fine with the roan.
and I don’t want you to think that I care I never would, I never could again
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Ophanim]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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