"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
04-18-2020, 08:48 PM (This post was last modified: 04-18-2020, 09:00 PM by kahzie.)
Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free
The winds carry him by lifting the long white expanse of his feathered wings. The rest of his navy body is tucked rather tightly together. The wind is cold here, even in the autumn, and Gale is forced to land where he had not expected. He is not quite sure where he is, being unfamiliar with the geography of Beqanna. After stretching his wings to avoid painful cramping, Gale folds them to his striped sides. He shakes out the rumpled hair of his spine mane. It’s grown longer in his time on the resort, bleached by the saltwater and combed by the seawind.
The late evening sun reflects along his short coat, illuminating the dark strands so that they seem every shade of blue at once, from nearly ice to a stormy night’s sky. The pale eyed stallion is grateful for the coming darkness, as he often feels rather exposed by the full light of day glittering around his hide. For now, he moves to stand clear of the wide open space where he’d landed His stomach rumbles, and he remembers the last meal he’d had. A few mangos just after dawn, not enough to satiate him but enough that he wasn’t hungry. He’s been planning on eating when he got to the River, but then the unexpected autumn winds had buffered him about over the mainland, and he’s ended up here instead.
Where is here, anyway?
The earth beneath his feet is pitch black, and there are a dozen little pinpricks at his legs and belly where the grass touches him. Sawgrass, he realizes with a murmured curse. Setting his shoulders, he forges his way out of the grass. It was not worth the effort of taking flight. Not when the cuts heal even as they appear. He reaches the edge of the plains – the Plains, he corrects internally – and breathes a sigh of relief. A high--pitched noise overhead causes him to blink, and suddenly he can see himself from a hundred paces overhead. There is a path ahead of him free of sawgrass all the way to the Riverlands in the distance. With a whicker of thanks, Gale presses forward toward the more delicious grass, and the nearly-white bird of prey overhead rises higher and higher overhead until it is vanishes into the sky.
Evening on the river is always pretty quiet save for the sound of the gushing river. The rains have fed her well this year and the vein of water has carved itself violently wider to accommodate the rushing run off from the north. Chemdog has always loved the riverside, the monstrous oak, the dappled warm light, the moss carpet – all of it. He once lived here when he was a nomad, but it wasn’t very sustainable, though beautiful it is not enough to keep a stallion like him fit and fed. Plus, there is no ownership, and that he has much trouble with; it’s an uncomfortable feeling.
It just so happens that on this day Chemdog was enjoying the riverside and was now heading back. His path nearly colliding with the navy stallion’s and he steps aside with a grin just after their shoulders brush ever slightly. Chem’s long heavy locks mingle gently with the other stallion’s skin as they pass and the spotted man twists around to face him. “Oh,” he chuckles, “Excuse me there, I was not paying attention.” he smiles, its meant to be a comforting warm smile, but its always hard for him to hide his predatory nature. It is immediately apparent neither stallion is on a hard mission, and so Chem thinks it appropriate to linger and even step toward him a little.
“I’m Chemdog.” he closes the gap between them, but keeps out of striking distance, taking in whatever mell his can find of him on the air. His nostrils flutter with his efforts to finger out a particular scent on the stallion’s coat. “Enjoying an evening walk as I am?” he blinks his teal eyes slowly, watching the other’s face carefully as he responds.
Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free
The rest of Beqanna appears to be going about their lives as usual. Horses wander through the River, on their way for a drink or a bit of gossip. One brave soul even appears to be swimming in the water! The thought of anything less than warm tropical seas is unappealing to the brindle stallion, and he wrinkles his face slightly in distaste.
He’s much too far away for it to be impolite.
Far enough away from the swimmer, but not for the horse that he spots out of the corner of his eye at the very last moment. He dodges to the side, forgetting to wipe away the expression, and for a moment he answers Chemdog’s polite apology with a furrowed brow and something slightly less positive than incredulity. But then she shakes his head and his white forelock.
“Oh sorry, someone was swimming over there and it’s cold and I didn’t see you. I wasn’t… I’m Blue. I mean Gale, I’m Gale.” The brindle stallion is rather verbose in his apology, as he is in most things. When the black stallion introduces himself, Gale takes this as a sign that the conversation has not been ruined after all. He grabs hold of what Chemdog has offered, giving his own in return with a bright smile that transforms his previous expression.
“Good to meet you.” he tells the taller stallion, having forgotten his previous introduction remarkably quickly. “I’m Gale.” He’s quiet for a moment, curiously inspecting Chemdog’s white markings. He’s not seen their like before with his own eyes. Then he glances up to meet the bright turquoise eyes of the other horse, and smiles entirely without suspicion. “Your eyes are almost the same color as the sea around my home.” Gale tells Chemdog, imparting that knowledge with much the same manner as when he recounting any fact: slightly enthusiastic and definitely hopeful that the other will like knowing this as much as he has enjoyed telling.
04-25-2020, 06:59 AM (This post was last modified: 04-30-2020, 06:53 PM by Chemdog.)
The brindle stallion's verbal fumble made something in the painted stallion perk, an internal interest; snared. Of course he had no plans to be harmful, or even deceitful, but for some reason even the most simple social interactions are laced in something a little more sinister, with him. It's a behavior he's nurtured since he was a boy and now it is part of him, a dog. Hungry, determined, playful.
Their conversation quickly morphs, to Chem's further delight, “Gale.” he repeats with a long slither in his deep voice. He nods, as if he's a polite man, “Pleasure.” his eyes rove over the other stallion's wings, legs, and then back to his face. The wind is not helpful in finding a scent on his fur, or perhaps he travels so much he smells like nothing, the taller stallion cannot tell.
His home? The painted male flips his ears upward, blinking those big eyes down to his new acquaintance. “Are they now?” he grins with half of his mouth, laughing warmly (which isn't like him, but he's honestly a little touched). “I'd love to see this sea - those are warm water colors.”
Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free
The other stallion seems a polite, which is reassuring to Gale. Polite, or at least tolerant. He doesn’t much mind which. It does not occur to him that the conversation might be a ruse, that there is more beneath the black stallion’s smile than his casual interest in a stranger taking an evening walk. While Gale is a playful creature, he is neither innately deceptive or suspicious. He takes their interaction at face value, and so when Chemdog mentions wanting to see Gale’s home, the younger stallion visibly perks up.
“Oh you should come!” He tells the other enthusiastically. “The water is very warm, even this time of year.”
Though the white-faced stallion is a stranger, Gale finds it hard to believe that there might be anyone who would not find the Island Resort a pleasant place. It has been his own refuge for years, after all.
“I could show you what it looks like,” he suggests with as much casualness as he can muster. It’s not much, of course, as he is excited both by chance to share something nice with a stranger as well as the chance to flex his skill at vision shaping. The brindle stallion is nearly as good at manipulations as he is bad at socializing, after all. “If you want to see it, I mean. You don’t have to.”
@[Chemdog]
Chem watches the smaller stallion’s face carefully while he speaks, reading the casual ease in his expression. The tightly coiled muscles under his sleek black fur seem to unbunch over his thick bones.
“Oh yes yes, he flutters his wide nostrils, “I would love to come!” his energy matches Gale’s and his smile tilts one half of his black mouth. “It would be an absolute delight to see such a place with warm waters this time of year.” he adds. He isn’t quite being honest about how oblivious he is to Beqanna’s differing climates, and which parts of the coast remain warm right now, but to be led to a lush place ̶ he’s guessing to the west ̶ would be absolutely ideal at the moment.
Chem and his chosen ‘band of brothers’ are struggling to rebuild their barren, burnt chunk of land in the high north. It draws them from the ashen landscape down into the more fertile lands, asking, sometimes taking, for what they need to survive while they rebuild...constantly hunting for a way to rebuild while they haunt Beqanna’s emerald sanctuaries.
Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free
“It’ll look like this!” Gale announces, eager to share his home. Slipping behind Chemdog’s eyes after the other gives him permission, the brindle weaves together a vision that best showcases the Island Resort. A sweeping view of turquoise water meeting the black sand beach, and then the view from the sky, the rainbow canopy stretching out below, with the island’s central lake and tall rocky craig at it’s heart. The sharing has taken only a moment. Gale had pieced together the best bits, and there is a thin film of sweat along his neck at the effort.
But he’s smiling happily, and his pale eyes watch Chemdog for a reaction.
“What do you think? Looks great, right?” Gale smiles happily, and realizes he is eager to have the company of another on his quiet little island, even if it will only be for a little while.
“We’ll have the place to ourselves,” Gale continues, “ It’s just me and Erne on the island. It gets pretty quiet but it’s still nice, I think. I tried to convince a few others to come and see it earlier, but no luck.” he shrugs, as though saying ‘what can you do?’ and glances up at the sky to gauge the time. They could probably make it there by dark, he thinks.
Gale’s little spirit comes poking at his eyes and asking to worm into his brain. Chemdog knows mind-creepers, all the kinds (or so he thinks he knows all the kinds), and so he knows to take precaution, tucking away some of his darkest notions away from sight. He’s grinning still, allowing the other stallion to seize his eyes and show him what he is so eager to share.
When he’s finished Chem shifts his weight, looking down with his nearest eye, entertained by the winged stallion. “Gorgeous, certainly.” he takes a controlled breath, fighting the urge to reach out and softly brush the other’s shoulder with his upper lip. It’s usually a behavior reserved for the alluring women he meets, but he finds himself fighting the compulsion here, now, with Gale.
His focus stays on him, chewing on the detail of their solitude together. Her thoughts drift to the lush place he was shown, how it may serve his brothers in the north, and then his thoughts briefly drift away to some such other things. He comes back after a second or two, blinking, still peering down at the brindle stallion. His attention moves to Erne just for a half-second, and back to Gale, “I would love to see it, lead the way, Gale.” and he tastes his name, it feels sweet encased in his gritty voice. He steps to the side, allowing Gale to move ahead and lead the way.
chemdog
astra inclinant, sed non obligant.
i'm sort of sorry he's a little bit of a creep. (super creep)
he's supposed to be a spy mission, anyway
❤️ @[Gale]
Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free
Gale nods contentedly at Chemdog’s summary of his vision. Gorgeous is a fitting attribute he thinks, though perhaps not all-encompassing. He will have to think of the perfect one. A slogan for the Island Resort. Even the name of the place itself is a mouthful, he has often thought. Perhaps with just him on the island, he can decide to call it something else! Now that’s a thought. Whatever would he call it though?
He's grown distracted by his own thoughts, and glances back to Chemdog only when the pied stallion begins to speak again. I would love to see it, he says, and Gale beams.
“Awesome!” The fastest way is by wing, but as Gale looks north and west, toward the thick trees, he realizes that he’s not entirely sure how to get there on hoof.
“So, uh, any chance you know how to get there? It’s straight that-a-way by wing - ” he gestures in the right direction, “- but I don’t know the way if we’ve got to walk.”
05-08-2020, 06:35 AM (This post was last modified: 05-08-2020, 06:36 AM by Chemdog.)
Chemdog boasts a big laugh from his chest, sweeping a small sidestep toward a narrow path through the brush. “I have been west,” his voice still gritty, but loose, and entwined with a chuckle. “I’ll meet you there, if you want to go by wing. Or if you would like to follow, I know the way pretty well.” he offers a neutral look, no smirk for the moment, his twisting and flipping with the sounds around them.
If Gale decides to follow Chemdog will lead him the quickest way. Picking his way westward, careful not to cross borders and stay between, stopping for water and grazing when needed. The big stallion is so used to travel that it is second nature to the former wandering rogue, knowing the best stops, the safest routes to move along.
He’s not sure how long the journey will be, he has not made the trip in quite a while. He does not rush, gorging himself on anything really fruitful he finds, and remembering it. If the Isle gets too hard up, soe stashes may come in handy later. Onward to the Resort, soon he will be able to smell the sea on the wind.
