"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
with tremulous cadence slow, and bring the eternal note of sadness in
Slowly, the opaline mare regains her health. Pangea had been unkind to her lungs and her stomach, filling her with too much dust and not enough nutrition, but now her incessant cough has dwindled to the occasional clearing of her throat, and while her hips are still uncomfortably noticeable, they are only just.
Truthfully, the time she has spent with Alcinder and Lepis has done more to heal her than Loess' crisp air and meal options. She has made sure to spend an ample amount of time in the presence of both her son and her dearest friend. There is something to be said for having a support system.
Alcinder had been busy in her absence ─ growing, exploring, recruiting.
Oceane hadn't believed that he had convinced Soran to remain within the borders of the foothills until her return, but the dappled stallion's scent was strong in their canyon den. Despite his agreement to remain in Loess, he is evasive ─ though she, too, is constantly on the move ─ so when the purple and purple woman finally sets her bright eyes on the scarred stallion near one of the northern hot springs, she calls out clearly to him beneath the orange light of the setting sun.
"I asked my son what his secret was," she says warmly as she comes to rest beside the dappled stallion. She plants a gentle nudge on his shoulder before turning her amber eyes to the hot springs, "But he couldn't tell me what it was that had finally convinced you to stay." She smiles, her gaze turning back to the stallion as her nostrils flare at his welcomed scent.
"It's good to see you, Soran." It feels like a confession, the way it quietly slips from her mouth. It would be a lie to say she hadn't thought of the mysterious, noncommittal man during her time in the wasteland. Part of her had searched for him, curious if his nomadic wanderings would ever carry him into Anaxarete's realm. "Tomorrow, I'd like to talk about the possibility of you staying, but ─" she clears her throat and shifts her weight uncomfortably, turning an expectant gaze on the man, "─ But tonight, can we just enjoy each others' company?"
He stayed — he had promised Alcinder he would after all. The thing was, though, is that he stayed longer that the stipulation he had given the boy required. Soran knew that Oceane was already back, caught her scent every time Alcinder decided to grace him with his youthful presence.
Soran should have left long ago; he should have given Alcinder a gentle "I'll see you again," and been on his way but... he hadn't done that. Regardless of his staying, he still saw that imaginary timer ticking down, counting down his inevitable departure that he was prepared to take because he did not belong here.
Maybe that is why he kept up his nomadic nature within the borders of Loess. Each day he would move, never going towards the coast, but no matter where he went he never failed to return to the canyon den Oceane had shown him long ago. Somehow - a miracle or curse - he never ran into Oceane. This unnecessary, unwanted dance between them led to more tension resting on his withers than normal.
He did not go out of his way to change his nature though, and perhaps, he should have. Tomorrow he could do that, he thought as he casually stood alongside the hot springs he had come to discover not too long ago. It was not the ocean, and yet the sound of the water was just as relaxing.
Solitude is something, he learned, was pleasant enough. Were one to delve deeper though they would see this is only something he has come to believe as a result of what happened all those years ago in Melitusa.
One of his ears twitch back, and he catches her scent before she calls out for his attention. Once she does his head turns to look over his shoulder.
She's whole and well — or as well as she could be.
Oceane does not give him any normal greeting, and his lips quirked up in amusement. That amusement shifts into a slight surprise at the touch she gives him, although his reaction to it is not that noticeable. He chooses to ignore the touch, hitching a back hoof up. "If you come looking for answers as to why, I regret to inform you I can't give you much." It had been just an instant, seemingly natural change. However, because his mind does believe it came up with the reason why himself, he does choose to say something more on it. "I didn't feel like disappointing him further." He tells her as his gaze turned back to the springs.
His gaze doesn't remain there for long though at her gentle confession, and he can admit that it's good to see her, too. "And you, Oceane. I'm glad to see you're alright." He tells her just as tenderly, knowing that he had already thought about how if he had known, he would have tried to go and see her there. Yet he had kept himself sequestered away from the rest of the world, from anyone that he might possibly find anywhere in Beqanna.
It had been as much as a way of hiding away as it had been a way to heal. His self-isolation had helped in ways he hadn't known it would, and a part of it still did feel like running away but a large part also felt like a slow march to acceptance.
However, he still would rather not go near the ocean, still carried that heavy guilt, still heard that joyful laugh.
Both of his ears flicked back at her next words, unease rising inside. He couldn't stay. His mouth opened immediately to tell her that, come tomorrow, he would very well be gone. His tongue stills itself though as she carries on the conversation.
There's a clear unwillingness in him to simply let it all be left for later, but she did not wish to speak about that right now. He wasn't going to go against that — even if he wanted to.
The sigh he releases is one that shows his willingness to accept what she suggests. "Whatever you'd like." He says, giving her a soft smile. Yet, he wouldn't be Soran if he didn't ask her that she was sure she would rather wait to discuss other things. "Are you... are you sure? I just—" he sighs, knowing he is drawing the conversation towards what she said they could speak about tomorrow. "I've outstayed my welcome long enough — you're home, I told Alcinder I would be gone once you were."
with tremulous cadence slow, and bring the eternal note of sadness in
Oceane's lips quirk into a small smile as Soran admits he hadn't wanted to disappoint young Alcinder. His eyes turn back to the hot springs and the Loessian woman takes the opportunity to observe him contemplatively. For someone who emanates and vocalizes the desire to roam sans attachments, he certainly has proven to be a reliable and trustworthy companion. Her amber eyes linger at the curve of his mouth, and then at the light in his blue eyes, and her smile slips into a coquettish smirk as she forces her gaze away from the striking scar across his face.
Soran's voice is tender. I'm glad to see you're alright. It feels more personal than it should ─ subdued, even ─ and it causes butterflies to alight in her stomach at the prospect of vulnerability. She had felt the uncertainty of emotional exposure with Castile, but it had been different with the Dragon King ─ coated in lust, steeped in the unspoken realization that neither were promised to each other and likely would never be more than what they were in that ─ and this ─ moment, anyway.
But with Soran, there are no politics to worry about. There is nothing more than his soul and hers, both running from something in their past and neither fully ready to admit it. And if his soul longs for companionship as hers does, despite the blanket of formality and diplomacy she dons herself with each day, then she is willing to feel the vulnerability that comes with it.
That comes with taking a chance on him.
He seems surprised at her desire for him to stay overnight and Oceane falters in her confidence for a beat ─ could she be reading him incorrectly? He acquiesces finally, but there's still a tentativeness that he exudes until finally his gruff voice finds her pricked ears again. Oceane frowns, her amber eyes finding his.
"I'm sure," she says firmly and with a convincing effort to keep the uncertainty from her voice. "There is nothing to overstay, Soran. You are wanted here." Oceane pauses. She presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth and ruffles her wings uncomfortably at her sides. "I want you here," she says quieter, before finding the resolve to maintain steady eye contact with the dappled man before her.
"Unless I've read it wrong, but... I don't think I have."
05-05-2020, 10:32 PM (This post was last modified: 05-05-2020, 11:36 PM by Soran.)
the waves listened
Caring is a dangerous thing — that's simply how it works. Soran knows that, intimately so, and wears the consequences of such unadulterated care on his body forever. Caring, though, is something Soran has always been unable to keep himself from doing.
It's a part of him. It's just natural and he foolishly comes to care about others rather quickly and he is quite aware of the issue. He had tried before to stop it, but as he has grown older he has often questioned why such a thing is bad.
Why it is bad is made abundantly clear in this particular situation.
I want you here, and oh if only she knew how wicked those words were. She shouldn't want that, for many reasons. He may not be some ghastly beast or monstrous man intent on harming, but he has done that, no matter if it had been unintentional.
Despite her attempt at trying to keep her uncertainty from tainting her words, it's quite evident in her last sentence and just as natural as it is for him to care, worry, so is it natural for him to offer her comfort. There is no preamble, no thought given, as he reaches out with his dark muzzle. The soothing brush he gives her neck, just past her throat latch, is timid but even as the realization of what he has done creates anxiety inside him he does not make a hasty retreat.
No, this touch lingers, giving his comfort and care a moment to warm the patch of her coat that he touches.
"No, you haven't." He murmurs quietly as he pulls away, speaking as if he's revealing one of his deepest and darkest secrets. "I just worry." He constantly did, and it was a part of him that he had carried on his shoulders for so long it felt as natural as any other part of him. His eyes meet hers, sincere and hoping she understands what he means. "My scars aren't a mere coincidence, and it would pain me to see something truly terrible happen to you or your son." Those words reveal more of his past than any other has known, and they were true. It didn't matter if he had known the two of them for such a small amount of time — nothing mattered when you cared for another and Soran couldn't help but care.
A curse, really. His caring nature made him susceptible to being attacked or harmed so easily.
And yes, Soran was aware that Oceane could take care of herself and he was highly aware that he had no true right to worry because he was a mere man with no right to impose upon her life. It was inevitable for him, though.
"So do not interpret my hesitation as anything else but concern for your overall wellbeing. I want to, truly, but I've seen the consequences of such things, Oceane." He could still hear the crackling fire to this day, could feel the bindings rub his coat raw. "But, if you're willing to weather whatever storm might come from this, no matter what happens," between them, or in regards to anything else, "I'll be there." His soft words made it sound so simple; they made it sound like this decision was easy. It wasn't though, and Soran knew he would struggle as he did with everything else.
