"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
01-15-2020, 06:53 PM (This post was last modified: 01-15-2020, 06:55 PM by Gloariana.)
Down flutters a lone feather, pirouetting nimbly with the help of the whispering breath of the wild. A fresh pair of eyes locks onto it, now mesmerised by its grace, it twirls with great fluidity and motion to the damp wintry verdure down below. It pauses atop the grass tips, the eyes parting from the relaxing vision with persistent hesitation before slowly meandering between small eskers to follow the light. Sunbeams lazily begin to dance amongst the leaning greenery, interrupted by the dappling of the canopies above. An orchestra of birdsong and grasshoppers collaborate musically with the merry production of light which is becoming quite the strangely intriguing show to this fresh pair of eyes, now distracted by the robin's egg spring azures which were wheeling and whirling up and down the soft slopes of the grassy knolls, just grazing the fresh dew. Gradually, the light begins to fade, and darkness starts to loom over the sky, threatening to blanket the greenery below. It fades back up into the sky, disappearing for a moment, until it recedes and once again begins to suffocate everything as far as the eye could see with blackness. It is dark. The butterflies are gone, the sunbeams are no more and all chorus fades into obscurity.
That was until a rather sudden crash in the tree canopy above. Her eyes snapped open and her body thrust up from the ground and stumbled away from the sound. With a swift jerk of the head she attempted to visualise the fumbling creature amongst the conifer as the evergreen leaves fell around her in a snowflake-like fashion. The mare's mouth pursed tightly and her brow was now slightly furrowed, and she snorted for the conifer fronds were now tickling her unneccesarily. There didn't appear to be anyone in the tree, well, whatever it was had ceased all movement, and it caused her to pause, to wait for a response. Nothing. A great sigh exited the mare's now flared nostrils as she turned and withdrew from the dark shade of the firs, plodding anxiously into the openness of the vast meadow. It stretched as far as the eye could see. This was an unfamiliar land to her. Sudden decisions were sometimes good for the heart, but was this too sudden? A wave filled with nerves, guilt and self doubt washed through her repeatedly as her vision bounced from left to right until it hit a great wall of conifers and then the stoic mountains in the distant vision. In the subconscious, but always there. That's the feeling.
"You can't hide forever, Glory." Her voice was at its lowest ebb, just breaking a whisper, much like her body traversing from the cold conifer shadows to the sun hugged meadow. Immediately the warmth radiated along her broad back and she felt a comfort much like that of home as she stood for a moment to absorb the rays of consolation and encouragement. Gradually, the courage started to build inside of her deep chest. The fear of the unknown lay beyond those rolling hills. It was the unfamiliarity of being around strangers that bothered her, whether dangerous or not, it did worry her, having come from a place of safety and security. "It can't be that bad. You've made it this far, where did that determination go?" The mare walked slowly and kept close to the treeline in order to take the longest route to a nearby tall patch of grass. As one was not the tallest of equines, she hoped for some coverage in the swaying verdure, and sure enough relief hit her as soon as the sunwarmed blades stroked softly against her barrel and body as naturally as her head lowered to graze, serenaded reassuringly by a choir of grasshoppers and birdsong once more. With her head down and grass surrounding her almost completely, the mare felt safe.
It is very easy for the brindle stallion to lose track of the seasons. Winter is not much different from summer in his temperate home. There are rainy seasons and drier months, but he has only lived there two years; catching the pattern is hard, and his fellow resort dwellers aren’t the most interested in tracking weather patterns or being interviewed about atypical rainfall. To satisfy his curiosity he’s chosen to come back to the mainland after years away, eager to see what he has missed.
The years have been good for the stallion. He’d left as a slab-sided adolescent, caked with red dirt, brambles thick in his yellow hair. He arrives in the Meadow still slightly damp from an early morning dip in a waveless cove. His upright mane, which grows along the entire length of his spine – ears to tail – is brilliantly white. Healthy muscle bunches below his iridescently blue and cream coat, and the white wings that he holds close to his body as he weaves through the tall grass are only recently folded from the flight that had brought him here. His eyes – bright and electric – flick across the field with interest. He does not know what he is looking for, but the first horse that he sees alone is a pale mare and so she is the one he approaches.
She is alone, so he approaches slowly and from the side, giving her plenty of time to casually wander away if she didn’t actually want to be talked to. Not everyone wants to talk, he reminds himself; sometimes it’s okay to be quiet.
“Hi!” he finally says when he is close enough. “I’m Blue.” The word he gives could be an adjective (he is undeniably sapphire in coloration), but he says it like the name it is. It’s the name he’d chosen in the absence of his true name, and even now that he has begun to suspect who he is, he still uses Blue. Staying a comfortable distance away from her, Blue offers a friendly smile. “What’s your name?”
02-09-2020, 05:42 PM (This post was last modified: 02-09-2020, 05:45 PM by Gloariana.)
The mare was oblivious to her surroundings the more relaxed she became amongst the grass. Its soothing sound and smooth swaying motions were hypnotising almost, and she felt her lids becoming heavy as her grazing slowed, as did her breathing, which became deeper and more gradual. Her lip lazily lapped at the tall blade stems of grass, however the soft sound of paces through rustling grass made its way to her attention.
A pair of fluffy ears perked forwards and she lifted her head up out of the tall grasses, her thick, creamy white mane now bustling with grass seed decor. Steely coloured eyes, delicate in gaze, met those of a stranger's aqua pools. She was taken aback slightly, though he went on to introduce himself. The mare wasn't usually one for introductions nor bringing herself to confront others in a display of friendship or politeness, but now affected by his kindness in saying hello to her, she felt obliged to respond.
"Hello, I'm Gloariana," she cawed back suddenly. In her mind, her voice had cracked, causing an ear to nervously divot to one side. "It's very nice to meet you, Blue." She couldn't help but notice that he very much suited his namesake. The stocky cob mare's body began to relax as the ambience soothed her ears into a calm state, well, as calm as she could be interacting with a stranger, something she does not so often. Gloariana paused. She couldn't help but think that being out here all alone made her appear to be lost and alone, and so she shifted in her stance, standing straighter and with more confidence just ever so slightly.
02-11-2020, 08:40 AM (This post was last modified: 04-04-2020, 11:18 AM by kahzie.)
Rolling his shoulders causes his wings to shift, and Blue resettles them much as he resettles his weight, leaning to one side in a manner that is decidedly non-threatening. Though he’s forgotten most of his early lessons in manners, some things come easily to a creature with an innately kind heart, and he doesn’t wish to make this stranger uncomfortable. She seems nervous nonetheless, and for a moment he finds himself longing for the familial gift of soothing. That longing is as surprising to him as the ability would be to her, and Blue realizes he’s remembered something that is not a vision. The realization brightens his expression just as the mare introduces herself, and Blue’s smile in reply is bright and friendly.
“Gloariana,” he repeats. “That’s a pretty name. ” Another stallion might have added a compliment, something about how it is fitting, but flirtation is as foreign to Blue as cruelty. The two are not left in limbo though, as the piebald mare adds that it is nice to meet him, and Blue repeats this along with a question of his own.
“What brings you to the Meadow? I came to see how different it was than my home, but other than the lack of the ocean, not much is different. Do you know- is it warm here year round?” Weather and climate inquiries are perhaps not standard Meadow-fare, but Blue has come here for a reason, and he is determined to learn what he can.
Gradually, she felt her body relaxing in this moment. The sudden spike in her thumping heart rate had died down considerably, almost lazily, and her ears softly adjusted to prove her newfound calmness. She felt strange but good, and occasionally found herself glancing up at the stranger's broad wings as they flared up to catch the breeze. In her head she knew it was rude to stare, but to her she was intrigued and fascinated.
A satisfied, thankful sounding huff left her grey nostrils followed by a brief nod as the male charmed her in such a polite fashion. "That's very kind of you to say so, thank you." Gloariana shifted in her spot once more within the tall grasses. It felt like the breeze was picking up, gathering strength, though the air still felt warm and humid and it somehow eased her nerves, comforting her with warmth.
Gloariana listened with curiosity in her eyes and ears as Blue approached with questions of curious intent. "What bring me here?" she retorted, taking a moment to touch on that thought. "To be honest, I guess I had a coming-of-age moment, you know, a burst of independence? A feeling so forthwith that you abruptly desire to find your own path?" The mare's brow furrowed slightly as she made eye contact with Blue, attempting to explain her vague situation, before giving a lighthearted chuckle. "It's tough to explain, I'm just a wanderer. I walk a lot but without true reason, I suppose." Smoothly, she tossed her curled white forelock out of the way of her eyes. "As for the weather, I really couldn't tell you as I don't know myself, but I do hope that it's warm. I quite like this little meadow, it's quaint, and so far quiet."
Her ears heated up out of embarrassment as she kept catching herself inquisitively glancing at the male's wings. A marginally uncomfortable laugh left her as quiet as could be. "I'm awfully sorry to stare," Gloariana confessed shyly. "I've never seen a winged equine up close before; your wings are beautiful. Where I come from it's very uncommon, but nonetheless it's fascinating. I've lived a very sheltered life can't you tell," an awkward titter followed suit, and she attempted to gather her composition again. "So anyhow, are you from near here? You're the only equine I've seen in days."
[Aahh so sorry for the late response! My pc had a factory reset and I'd forgotten my login details ;-; ]
“Oh!” he says, and there is excitement in his voice and in the rise of his curious brow. “So you’re not from Beqanna originally, then? ”
The brindle stallion is clearly not off put by her occasional glances at his wings. He even chuckles when she finally mentions it, stretching out the wing nearest her.
“They’re one of my most noticeable features,” Blue replies with an easy grin, tossing back the forelock of yet another of his defining characteristics, that mane that stretches from poll to tail. Uniqueness in Beqanna is more than physical features though, Blue has found, and perhaps it would be good for Gloariana to know this as well. “Many of us natives are more than meets the eye,” he says. “Do you have other traits where you come from, or are they are uncommon as wings?” For a moment he considers showing her, sharing an example of his own intangible skill, but refrains. For all her efforts at calmness, he does not wish to be responsible for making her uncomfortable.
Instead he answers her question, leaving the other topic for a better time, perhaps.
“Near is relative,” is said with another easy smile, “it didn’t take me long to fly here, but by hoof it’s across the entire mainland of Beqanna.” With his dark muzzle, he gestures toward the northwest. “A place called Island Resort. It was described to me as peaceful and quiet, and it is that for sure.”
Gale