"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
10-21-2020, 08:16 PM (This post was last modified: 10-21-2020, 08:18 PM by Aqorix.)
A whisper in the wind, a shift in the shadows
Autumn. It was such a beautiful time. The trees were turning from green to varying shades of gold and red, before falling to the ground. The colt was quite partial to the season, despite the underlying theme of death. He loved the colors. But most of all, he loved to play in the piles of fallen leaves that get caught between the trees. He dances through them, now, prancing and leaping, leaving a wake of crunching and rustling behind him. After a moment, he stops. He looks off into the distance, outside of the forest where he knows his mother still lingers. Even though he was now a year old, Aqorix still never strayed far from her, though he did not blatantly hang around her, either. He was old enough to know that he had to start finding his own way. However, he worried. For all of his life, she had not once shown him any kind of emotion. She did love him, that much he knows, but that was the one thing that had returned to her. Everything else was a blank void. She had told him as much. She sometimes tried to smile for him, but it was with an emptiness in her eyes that spoke far more to Aqorix. Blasphemare had once told him that he was wise beyond his years. What she had meant by that, though, he wasn’t quite sure of yet. The colt huffs a large sigh and turns away once more, though now his mood did not warrant playing in the leaves any longer, so he takes to wandering. The shadows around him flicker softly, almost imperceptibly as he passes through them, a flicker of his own making, the remnants of the frustration he feels. He wanders to the edge of the forest and follows it for a time, lost in his own thoughts. Every time he returned to his mother, she would try to smile and reassure him that she was fine. But was she? After all, the smiles were fake. He could see it in those cold, dead eyes. It made it difficult for Aqorix to let her go, to leave her on her own (and had he known what she was getting up to in his absence, he might have second-guessed himself even harder). Every step was like torture, should he turn around, or should he continue forward, away from her and onto his own path? What if there was a solution that could work for both of them? What would that solution be, though? Suddenly, he stops. Something had definitely moved from within the shadows of the forest. “Hello?” His voice rings out into the stillness surrounding him.
He does not leave his home of the Islands often...although the days were getting colder and he wondered if snow visited the other lands earlier than his own home...
It didn't...
Yet still, the scenery was much different than his home. The trees were a multitude of shades...yellow, orange, green. His blue eyes scan each one as he walks down the trail of the forest.
His mother was a traveler and perhaps this was why. Did each land have its own unique scenery? His thoughts were distracted by another though, hello, the words pass his ears.
His head quickly whips to the source, a boy similar in age....his pelt, it was the splash of color was close to his own mothers. He blinks for a moment before moving towards the boy.
Hello, he says in greeting. His pelt was far too bright to try hiding..not that he was trying to hide. My name is Bran and you? He asks, perhaps he was too friendly, but Bran wasn't to cautious in life.
There was indeed someone within the shadows, and at Aqorix’s beckoning, he stepped forward. What the colt saw was another colt with light blue patches across his figure. He offers a smile as the other colt steps from the shadows, a universal symbol of happiness that he only knew by instinct. He was grateful for those universal emotions that everyone can feel and display, for without them, who knows if he could have even offered that.
Bran was his name, and Aqorix nods in recognition, the star on his head glistening brightly against its black background. “I am Aqorix,” he says in return. He turns to face Bran, shifting uncomfortably on his hind quarters. A kind of nervousness runs through him. The extent of his socialization thus far had been a brief run-in with a curious stallion who could change his appearance at will. Other than that, Aqorix had only spent his time with his mother until now, so being around others was something different, unique, and he wasn’t quite sure of himself yet.
He wasn’t even quite sure of his personality yet. I mean, he enjoys playing in the leaves, that much was obvious, but being that he hadn’t had much socialization until now, he might find himself to be completely flat and boring, or perhaps he would be too rambunctious and annoying? In an effort to avoid either, he quickly scrambles to come up with something to say, but keeps his voice level. “That’s an unusual marking on your hindquarters. What is it?”
The stranger gives a smile as Bran appears, he returns one of his own. He wasn't too sure how to make friends, the only he has is his family. Truly, he lets the colt lead the interactions.
He introduces himself as Aqorix, a tongue twister at first but still, a name that quickly found its way to his memory.
Aqorix mentions the pattern on Brans hindquarters, his eyes glance to it briefly. The question makes Bran smile, hold back a laugh even. It is so interesting that something so familiar to Bran and his family, could be so strange to another.
It's a constellation, father told me which one....but I forgot it's name. He should probably try harder to remember...Father and his sister have the power to control the stars, yet Bran doesn't. That's more than likely why his interst lacks... Where do you live? I come from the Islands , he asks out of curiosity.
It was laughable to think that Aqorix could lead this conversation any better with the other colt, as all he had known his whole life, except for two brief encounters, had been his mother. He had no experience in making friends, either. Still, he leads anyway, tripping and stumbling as he does so. Truth be told, he couldn’t even remember the other colt’s name, even though he had just said it. Was it Brawn? Maybe? Or did he say Bryan? He felt bad about not remembering Bran’s name, especially since his was such an interesting name to try to remember.
Still, he leads on, asking the relatively silly question of what the markings on Bran’s hindquarters were. He notices the smile on his face and isn’t sure whether to smile in return. He opted for the awkward half smile, that made him look even less capable of making friends. But what Bran said next he thought to be super cool. “Really?” he says with a bit of excitement. “I have a literal star in my forehead.” He arches his neck to bring the star down so it is straight forward, and it shines and shimmers brightly.
He didn’t care that Bran didn’t know what the constellation was, but anything to do with stars, and Aqorix thought it was cool. His mother had actually spent the late evenings up with him, telling him about the stars, because she knew he loved it so. Even without her emotions, she was still able to evoke emotions within him, which probably saved him from being even more of an awkward good, much like his older brother, Ridiculous, whom Blasphemare had told him about.
He would think it even cooler that Bran’s dad and brother were able to control the stars, but alas, the other colt doesn’t bring it up, and moves on instead to ask about where Aqorix lives. “Well, right now, to be honest, I have no home. I’ve been wandering around the Meadow with my mom for the better part of my life, and recently I’ve ventured off to be on my own, but I’ve just hung around here, in the forest.”
He still felt terrible about forgetting Bran’s name, especially now that the thought the older colt was cool. After an awkward pause, he says, “I’m sorry, but I forgot your name. I’m just not good with names.” If a horse could flush, he would have at that moment. Though, this time, he would make it a point of remembering.
