BRUNHILDE
I BET ON LOSING DOGS
What's happening?
A gasp, sweet and gentle, of true surprise. Brunhilde snaps her head up from where it lay tucked into her side. Her eyes, wild and bright, latch onto the world that warps around her. Trees, once too dark and too tall to be noticed, now illuminated by the brilliance of an even more powerful sun. Ferns and flowers, little scurrying mice and squirrels - no monsters.
No monsters.
"What's happening?" Brun moans the words of the dream that dragged her from her sleep. She closes dull and frustrated eyes (eyes that used to be so glittering topaz they sometimes appeared to be actual gemstones). The soil beneath her bends to her hooves as she stumbles to a stand, head hanging low and eyes only opening every few seconds to adjust to the light. She leans into the wall of the cave around her, wondering if she'll ever muster the strength to see what wild ways Beqanna has changed now.
Brunhilde, comes a low voice and a pale face. Brunhilde, wake up, it's safe. Brun thinks she can see the wavering, concerned face of her father above her, but the exertion of standing combined with the shock of the sun is too much. She falling back to her knees, eyes shutting, jutting ribs rubbing harshly against the side of the cave wall.
Brunhilde . . .
They come to her often, now: visions of the past. Waking visions, sleeping visions, daydreams and nightmares. Brunhilde can hardly remember the evernight, thanks to her own waxing and waning mental health and he protective layer of shadow her father kept around her at all times.
She arose from the cave eventually. She ate eventually. She gained weight eventually. She thought of Vastra and Chel. She slept and she walked and found no desire to much else. Her new routine in the new world become just that: routine. Monotonous and easy, quiet and simple. Litotes checked in on her occasionally, her demon brother in tow. That was not routine and perhaps one of the strangest parts of waking up to the sun: a brother she had spoken to a handful of times suddenly watching over her. His red eyes unsettled her and when he told she looked disheveled and unkempt, she felt just uncomfortable enough to wash in the river.
But she will pay that no mind, now. Brun is feeling impatient today, far too impatient for time her flashbacks steal from her.
The little flame did get lost, though; and before she knew it, night had come. Which way was the River? The Cove? How did she end up here? The last thing she can remember is a sour-faced from her father and a taunting look in Draco's red eyes. But no, that's not right, that happened a week ago - where was she, now? Which way was the River? The Cove?
"Oh," Brun says, not realizing she had stopped walking. Golden eyes that once lost their light flash upward and out, toward the voice just beyond the small grouping of trees she shelters behind.
"Coming," she sings to the stranger, low and almost sweet. "Though I've had plenty of monsters after me, and you're not nearly the scariest." Brun tilts her head, forcing her faze to focus on the holographic stallion. "The name's Brunhilde, monster. Why would you come after a stranger for merely standing near you?"
The visions hover at the edge of her sight, but for the first time in a long time, her mind begins to clear.
A gasp, sweet and gentle, of true surprise. Brunhilde snaps her head up from where it lay tucked into her side. Her eyes, wild and bright, latch onto the world that warps around her. Trees, once too dark and too tall to be noticed, now illuminated by the brilliance of an even more powerful sun. Ferns and flowers, little scurrying mice and squirrels - no monsters.
No monsters.
"What's happening?" Brun moans the words of the dream that dragged her from her sleep. She closes dull and frustrated eyes (eyes that used to be so glittering topaz they sometimes appeared to be actual gemstones). The soil beneath her bends to her hooves as she stumbles to a stand, head hanging low and eyes only opening every few seconds to adjust to the light. She leans into the wall of the cave around her, wondering if she'll ever muster the strength to see what wild ways Beqanna has changed now.
Brunhilde, comes a low voice and a pale face. Brunhilde, wake up, it's safe. Brun thinks she can see the wavering, concerned face of her father above her, but the exertion of standing combined with the shock of the sun is too much. She falling back to her knees, eyes shutting, jutting ribs rubbing harshly against the side of the cave wall.
Brunhilde . . .
--------
They come to her often, now: visions of the past. Waking visions, sleeping visions, daydreams and nightmares. Brunhilde can hardly remember the evernight, thanks to her own waxing and waning mental health and he protective layer of shadow her father kept around her at all times.
She arose from the cave eventually. She ate eventually. She gained weight eventually. She thought of Vastra and Chel. She slept and she walked and found no desire to much else. Her new routine in the new world become just that: routine. Monotonous and easy, quiet and simple. Litotes checked in on her occasionally, her demon brother in tow. That was not routine and perhaps one of the strangest parts of waking up to the sun: a brother she had spoken to a handful of times suddenly watching over her. His red eyes unsettled her and when he told she looked disheveled and unkempt, she felt just uncomfortable enough to wash in the river.
But she will pay that no mind, now. Brun is feeling impatient today, far too impatient for time her flashbacks steal from her.
The little flame did get lost, though; and before she knew it, night had come. Which way was the River? The Cove? How did she end up here? The last thing she can remember is a sour-faced from her father and a taunting look in Draco's red eyes. But no, that's not right, that happened a week ago - where was she, now? Which way was the River? The Cove?
"Oh," Brun says, not realizing she had stopped walking. Golden eyes that once lost their light flash upward and out, toward the voice just beyond the small grouping of trees she shelters behind.
"Coming," she sings to the stranger, low and almost sweet. "Though I've had plenty of monsters after me, and you're not nearly the scariest." Brun tilts her head, forcing her faze to focus on the holographic stallion. "The name's Brunhilde, monster. Why would you come after a stranger for merely standing near you?"
The visions hover at the edge of her sight, but for the first time in a long time, her mind begins to clear.
@[Tiberios] she wanted to come out very badly??????????? enjoy this weird thing
