"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 Halcyon has are things that are not quite memories, the heaving of his tiny lungs, and the coughs that wracks his thin chest. He certainly has no idea where he is, or even who or what he might be. His world had been wet and dark, and then bright and dry, and then wet and dark again. Now he is somewhere between them all, with his back warmed by the sun and his white belly on the damp sand. There is no twitching presence beside him anymore, not since he’d been squeezed into strangeness, and he is reluctant to open his eyes again, fearing the blinding brightness.
An hour passes and the tide recedes.
Halcyon remains on the beach, though he has managed to tuck his legs beneath him. His chin rests now on tawny forelegs, and his baby-blue eyes are finally open. He’s far larger than a tiger cub his age (a few hours) should be, and far more developed. Some blend of magic, perhaps, a halfway point between the mobility he’d have were he born as equine as his twin. He’s a blend himself, much more tiger cub than foal; most certainly unnatural. The only certainty about the odd little thing is that he is very young, much too young to have washed up on the beach alone like he has.
Halcyon knows nothing, but he does know he is missing something. The trouble is: he’s also not sure how to get whatever that something is. It should have been given to him, but it hasn’t, and so he calls out. Little mewling cries, rising in volume as he attempts to wobble to his feet. He face plants a few times, falls over and gets stuck on his back, but with each tumble he learns more about the mechanics of his squat little body and becomes ever sturdier. Of course, he does not know where he is going and wanders in a large circle. He might have toddled right back out to sea had a wave not come and struck his paws.
With a sharp yowl, he tumbles backward, and lies there for a long time, looking up at the sky, his paws crossed across his chest.
The nereid swam the edge of the islands, a patrol of the waters as much as the boundaries of their home. Eva had declared them an open land, free for others to pass through as they pleased. That suited Aquaria and her ideals about the place. Still, she had been taught small pieces of caution over the last year or two.
Open boarders would stay that way only as long as peace reigned in the island herdstead. Peace meant knowing, at least generally, who and what occupied the space within. So she patrolled the waters and the beaches daily, hoping every face she meet would. be friendly in nature.
The cool salt water washed over her back as she kicked forward, tail a graceful rudder aft. So far, none had crossed her path, equine or otherwise. A quiet day in paradise. Even the parrots seemed less chatty than usual. She didn't run across any kelpies either, which was something of a relief. They occupied one of the islets, kept mostly to themselves, and it seemed easier that way for them and the other island residents.
Over the lapping of water against her sides, a new sound rose. It was not the ardent calls of macaw, or the singing of dolphins in the bay, though the pitch was high enough. She couldn't place the noise, only determined that it seemed... wrong. Distressed, even. Her rounds put aside for the time being, she set off for the shoreline, eyes sweeping it for the source of the noise.
Her feet struck the sand with practiced grace when the water released her. White grains clung to the lengths of her legs as she emerged with curiosity, ears pricked for some sign of the noise. It had stopped minutes ago, and an uncertain anxiety pulled at her chest. Had some predator beaten her to it? For the mewling cry seemed to herald an easy meal for one who sought it.
When the little being came into sight at last, she hurried towards it. A huddled dark mass on the sand, as still as piled kelp and just as saturated with ocean scent lay so near the water's edge. There was no blood that she could see, which relieved her of the image of a torn ruin she'd been subconsciously expecting. It was whole, as far as she could tell, which lead on to a closer inspection.
Foal, was her first thought. The size was about right. But... Not foal. The proportions were wrong, the colors unlike any horse she had ever seen. And that was saying something. Her head dropped, snuffling breathes inhaling what information could be taken in. Not much at all to go on. The sea had done its work, and erased everything but the tang of salt from the damp creature's hide. A little frown hung from her lips. There was a slight rise and fall to it's chest, the feathery exertion of breathing. Life. She nudged it with her nose so very delicately, the almost-foal.
"Hey. Hey, are you okay, little one?" She glanced with little hope in all directions. "Where's your family? Your mama?" She asked, not even sure she'd be understood. At a loss, and for want of anything else to do, she began to clean the strange little thing, licking away the salt crusting it's fur into stiff spikes.
The crash of the waves and the warm sun on his belly have lulled him to sleep.
The nudge to his side is no different from his sister prodding at him in the womb, and he grumbles sleepily and attempts to roll over to get away from her.
But rolling over on the sand requires very different physics than rolling over in the womb. His little paws scrabble at the empty air, just as his well-furred ears catch the first soft murmurs of a voice. Something overhead is blocking the sun, and he opens still baby-blue eyes to look at whatever it is. Something big and white and licking him. Halcyon has never been licked before, but the tug and pull and the way his clean fur catches the tropical air all feel absolutely wonderful. A rumbling purr of satisfaction emanates from his chest, and the foal-cub stretches out his white-toed forelegs and kneads at the air.
The motion is tied to the gnawing emptiness that he is suddenly aware exists right about his midsection. Halcyon doesn’t have a word for it – hunger – but instinct tells him that this big white thing will fix it. The noises she makes remind him of the words and the faint squawking of the gulls and parrots. As Halcyon successfully rolls over in the sand, he tests the noises he can make with his own mouth. Most of them are little mewls and grunts and huffs of exertion as he finally makes it to his feet. He does manage to successfully mimic the last sound she’d said:
“Mama,” just before he bumps his forehead against her stifle. He repeats it again - “Mama” - while searching for the something to fill the hollowness in his belly.
Life returned to the striped child in a flurry of flailing paws. Her head jerked back to evade the broad pads that batted at the air, only to drop back down and resume the careful grooming.
He--and now that she was close enough to tell, it was definitely a he-- wiggled and began to rumble strangely as she continued her ministrations. What a funny creature. She watched as the fluffy padded feet seemed to press against the air in response to her touch, the tips of little claws peeking through the pale fur. Those gave her pause. Sharp little claws, predatory things. Still, little and helpless things couldn't help what they were. She couldn't walk away now that she had come upon him.
She watched in fascination as the odd, fluffy little creature managed to roll over amid a scattering of sand. Experimental sounds, little growls and mutters and curious mewls, none of which made sense to the pearl mare. Still, they were kind of cute. Her nose pressed softly against the thick-furred back of the baby, a light support as he found his feet. Only to stiffen as the sounds coming from the funny jaws began to grow coherent.
"Oh, sweet seafoam," she muttered, eyes widening as she felt him nudge and nuzzle beneath her. "Seabean, I know what you're looking for and I haven't-" her breath caught as he found his mark. "I haven't got that. You mama probably does, if we can find her..." She blinked out at the water, in the direction she knew he must have been carried from. This foal-thing didn't seem to have been born on the island. Which meant he only could have come from the mainland.
How many mares lived on the mainland? How many of them had babies now? One was missing her little one now. Or... Maybe she wasn't. This was an unconventional child, to say the least. An awful thought occurred to the seamare. A horrible, gut-wrenching idea. Had he been cast to the waters intentionally?
No baby deserved that. She had found him on her shores, and maybe that was meant to be. The ocean had given her many gifts overb the years, her cove was filled with shells and bits of coral that had caught her eye. This was no pretty trinket on the beach. This was a living, breathing, hungry baby. But he smelled of nothing but the sea. Had no trace of kingdom or family odor she could use to find his parents. Who might not even want him in the first place.
That settled it, in her mind. She sighed, and returned to the job of cleaning the salt from his varigated coat. He was her latest gift from the sea, washed ashore for her to find. Beautiful, and clearly very strong. "I guess you can stay. For a while. While I figure out what to do with you." She smiled, a quiet, secret place in her heart filling with a sweet contentment.
12-17-2019, 08:32 AM (This post was last modified: 12-18-2019, 10:56 AM by Halcyon.)
HALCYON
Halcyon’s attention span is neither long nor capable of being functionally divided. So while he’s aware that the big white thing – Mama – is still making noises at him, he is much more focused on finding something to fill his belly. Instinct tells him he’s doing everything correctly, yet despite his tugging and suckling, he remains as empty as before. Already a little stubborn, Halcyon doesn’t give up easily, but it would take several more days of trying for anything to come from his efforts. Of course, something has kept him alive despite being washed out to sea a few minutes after birth, so perhaps that same something will continue to show the striped cub benevolence and speed up the natural process.
For now though, his efforts are in vain, and he grumbles with disappointment. The sound soon changes to a purr as Aquaria resumes her cleaning of him, and he presses his forehead against her ribcage and closes his eyes. This feels much better than anything he has felt before. The vibrations of his pleasure continue as he turns, keeping his head pressed against the mare’s side. She’s still talking, and he repeats a few of her words, looking up with still slightly blurred vision.
“Stay, Mama.” He nuzzles his blocky head against her chest and sighs.
Somewhere on the mainland, his mother is presenting his father with Halcyon’s twin. They are a world away, a nuclear family that is complete even without Halcyon: father, mother, child. Yet Halcyon is as content as his sister is – perhaps more so, for this Mama he has found is a kinder creature than the one who’d borne them.
A crab skitters across the beach, and Halcyon reacts without thinking. He pounces, misses, and rolls over his own clumsy body. The crab has found its burrow by the time he rights himself, but a little ways down the beach he sees another. With an excited snort, he runs toward it – misses – and runs toward a third. He realizes that he is getting uncomfortably far from Mama though, and pauses to beckon her with a whicker that is more equine than most of his softly muttered noises.
“Mama!” he calls, his confidence in speaking growing. “Mama, come!”
The rumbling emanating from the little one, a soothing burr that vibrated through her ribs like her own personal thunder cloud. His little words pulled at her heart while she worked at the scruffy suggestion of mane along his neck. The rounded tufts of his ears with the funny white spots. He was beginning to look a bit more like a living creature and less like the half drowned scrap she had found.
When he pressed to her chest, she leaned into it. Nuzzled the soft fluff of his cheek. Kissed it with gentle hesitation. "Mama's not going anywhere." She promised, letting the title roll over her. Most mares had months to get used to the idea of motherhood. To feel the life growing within them, filled with anticipation and wonder at the child they had created. Aquaria hadn't gotten that, had seemingly skipped right to the end, and met her child fully formed. But he was hers, she knew it as surely as anything she'd ever known before.
It became truly obvious when he leapt away, chasing one of the plethora crabs that lived on the beaches there. She laughed at his antics, pride already surfacing when the sparks of determination showed themselves. He was a wonder, and already she missed him from her side. The wily crabs eluded his every attempt to nab them. Still he bounded after them, until the space between them opened too far.
He hadn't really gone very far, not more than a length or so beyond her. But his nicker of concern mare her close the space quickly. She was powerless to deny him, and when she heard him call her, she was there. "Little bossy thing." She grinned ruefully, nudging him with her shoulder softly. "I bet you're still hungry. Come on, I'll find you a coconut or two. They'll fill your belly until we figure something better out." She whickered low in her throat as she moved off toward the jungle.
He'd need lots of feeding. And coconuts wouldn't do it for long. She figured he was probably too young to have much in the way of teeth just yet, but she had to wonder how they'd come in. Blunt, like hers? Or sharp as his little claws. Only time would tell, but she hoped for the former. What would she feed a little carnivore, fish? Her dad ate fish sometimes. His teeth were sharp too... She would adapt, no matter how it came out, but perhaps a visit to her sire would help ease her mind on the subject.
12-18-2019, 11:43 AM (This post was last modified: 12-19-2019, 09:42 PM by kahzie.
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HALCYON
His earliest memories were already fading; there is no room for shady forests and the experience of nearly drowning in the mind of a growing boy. The world around him is full of sun and sand and waving palm trees. To Halcyon, that is all that is important. That is all there has ever been.
Mama responds to his summons just as she should, and Halcyon rubs his forehead against her shoulder in satisfaction. This reinforcement that his needs will be met - and with haste - is the foundation of a secure childhood. He's not aware of this, of course, just that he called and Mama came.
Mama is now leaving, which would be terrifying were she not whickering that he follow. He does, of course, and trots along beside her toward the jungle. There are a lot of green things here, and Halcyon reaches out to touch most of them with his striped muzzle. None smell especially delicious, and he tries a few more futile times to tug milk from Mama.
"What's a coconut?" He asks, stringing the words together. "I'm hungry."
It was cooler beneath the lush jungle, the trail they walked well worn. The nereid mare kept her pace sedate as they moved along, giving the boy time to investigate his new world. Nothing seemed to strike his fancy, but that wasn't much of a surprise. He'd looked too young to be interested in a diet of roughage. Still, his repeated attempts at gleaning nutrients from her hadn't produced anything yet.
His speech improved with every attempt, and a smile of appreciation grew on her pink lips. How clever her boy was! "They are fruits that grow on some of the trees here." She nodded at the palms growing among the other vegetation. "They have thick, hairy shells and soft white meat inside. I think you'll like them."
It took a little searching, but a promising tree appeared. The crown hung heavy with half-ripe nuts. The green-brown orbs clustered at the top, a tempting prize. Aquaria stretched her neck upwards, gauging the height of the tree with a wary eye. Coconuts could be tricky things. She turned to nudge the striped boy a few feet from the tree. "Stay here." She instructed. Then turned to return to the chosen palm. One sharp hind kick struck the trunk and a trio of fruits thudded into the sand around her.
She rolled them one by one to the waiting foal-cub. From there it was quick work to kick the wet husk from the shell, and to bust a hole in the brown exterior with a careful hoof. It wasn't the cleanest process, but by the end of it there was a few swallows of sweet water exposed in the shell's cup. "Drink up, I'll work on the next one."
As she bit away the husk of the next coconut, another thought began to press on her. He needed a name. She couldn't just call him "boy" or "baby" for the rest of his life. But naming a baby wasn't something she could just spit out. He was going to be stuck with this for the rest of ever. It was a lot of pressure!
Well. He didn't know he needed a name just yet. Maybe she could think about it for a couple days.
