Dammit.
A drop of rain slipped through the boughs of the tree she was sheltering under and plinked onto her face. Better to be ducking under the shelter of an evergreen than outside in the sheeting rain, but it was far from enough to sate Melia’s thoughts. She had already been robbed of her purpose, had already had most of her powers disappear into thin air, and as if things couldn’t get any worse, spring had decided to pour its worst into the land below.
The former warlord’s daughter scowled at the state of things outside her small hideaway. Not like she cared too much that she had gotten soaked (Hell, if she had some objective, something to do, she probably would have walked through it as it was), but in her particular mood today, she didn’t particularly feel like getting drenched.
Green eyes narrowed at the ashen skies. She had once been something, had once been a fighter beside her father as the only child he found respect for. They had defended what was theirs, but he’d disappeared. She had tried to hold up in his absence (It wasn’t the first time he’d left, and Melia thought it wouldn’t be the last), but as time stretched onward, those who called their chilled mountainous territory home had dispersed.
Weeks stretched into seasons, and Melia became sure of one thing: He wasn’t coming back.
Without him, there was no reason to remain. So she’d left. She’d left, striking out at anyone who dared to look at her, trying to find something to keep her occupied. She picked fights, and ran until she thought she’d finally burned her anger out. That was the one thing that her experience hiding from the rain enlightened her on. She was still pissed, it just wasn’t a seething rage that she had no idea what to do with anymore. It was a simmer, on the backburner. Still very real, but buried far deeper.
The buckskin scowled as the rain kept coming down. She wanted to move along, but apparently the weather had other ideas. Another drop hit her ear before it disappeared into her raven tresses, and she found all the curses she could to describe the situation as it continued pouring down.
At least it wasn’t like things could get much worse.
05-29-2021, 07:32 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-29-2021, 07:33 AM by Chemdog.)
Chem never minded the rain so much – but he loves water, truly, for lounging, for swimming, for soaking – he loves it. The River is still a place he refuses to let go of, still visiting it frequently, following it down from his home and often into the Field or Meadow; just because. Sometimes he will find someone interesting but a lot of time it is just him, his companion and maybe a soul or two that wants to come along. He enjoys passing the time listing to the ghost of his long dead grandfather tell him stories in a thick accent resembling Irish. Using ancient words and scaring the birds with his booming laugh. Today Mohan doesn’t float beside him, he travels alone, and arrives in the Meadow just as thunder cracks across the sky and a downpour starts. He stops, a smirk on his black lips, the cold rain washing off of him in a dirty brown across his white patches. He looks up to the gray fast moving sky, standing in the open for some time, until the rain starts to wash clean across his white – a frigid bath of sorts.
He shakes like a wet dog, as if it matters (there’s more rain coming), and starts walking toward a clump of pines just ahead of him. The rain lets up just a bit, still steady but not moving down in great sheets blowing sideways. He finds a bit of shelter only to find another scowling there already. He doesn’t move in too close but dips his head in under the thick boughs of conifer to ask her, “May I join you?” he is smirking still, somewhat deviously. The aggression is palpable.
@[Melia]
Really, Melia was content to fume on her own. She had always preferred the company of herself and nature to others. When she first heard squelching hoofsteps behind her, she just hoped they’d move along. But they didn’t. They came closer, closer until a soaking dark stallion appeared before her.
Just great.
He seemed to be having a good enough time as he approached the pine she sheltered under. Forest green eyes looked him over, and it wasn’t the striking white markings on his dark coat, nor was it the softly glowing mist that seemed to emanate off of him, but the scars that stuck out to Melia. She could respect them. He had his warrior marks, as she did. Despite this newfound thread of respect, her expression remained sour with her analysis and her posture remained guarded.
As he poked his head in, it was that smirk on his face that led to a darkening of expression from the buckskin tobiano. If it was meant to push her buttons, it certainly hit at least one of them, but in spite of that, perhaps due to her recognition of his fellow status as a warrior, perhaps due to her displacement and lack of purpose, she gave a very uncharacteristic response to his query.
“Go ahead.” Her voice was low, gruff, and aside from keeping an eye on him as he came under the evergreen’s boughs, she barely acknowledged his presence. As far as she was concerned, they were two strangers waiting for a storm to pass.
@[Chemdog]
She’s reluctant, her scowl deepening, and his smirking fattening. Irisaen slithers out of his mane, weaving in and out of a few chunks of black tendrils before pooping her white lipped face out into the open, peering at the stranger. The python then descended gracefully down Chem’s shoulder and onto the wet ground, disappearing without a sound into the underbrush – off to hunt small things hiding from the chilly spring rain.
The stallion moves into the tight grove umbrellaed from the rain, well, a little. She was soaked, as was he, but he didn’t mind. She, on the other hand, seemed miserable about it. Or, perhaps, about life in general. There was a time in his life when he would have poked at that, scratched at her obvious irritation and relished in any reaction she would give, especially if it were big and violent. Not now though, nowadays such a thing sounds like such a hassle, and bringing bearing no fruit. He’d rather make friends, or lovers, or at least know who to avoid; or who to keep in mind.
“Well, thanks.” he looks over to her, eyeing a few scars across her otherwise perfect hide. He’s always loved the sunburnt buttery color of buskin, accented with black – and like himself, she’s painted in milky white patches. She’s quite beautiful, he muses, even with the grimace.
“I know somewhere we can go to get out of the rain.” he exhales through his nostrils, looking out into the stormy landscape. “We would have to travel in the rain, but afterward, we could be warm and dry in a cave – at my home, Silver Cove.” he’s not pushy about it, leaving the quiet between them alone for a little longer. He thinks about the small shallow ‘caves’ of the Cove. It seems like they’ve been carved or worn into the sides of the cliffsides. They’re not deep, like small domes in the stone. It is a perfect place to watch the sea under the bright light of the moon each night (except new moon nights, of course), as well as escape the cold rain.
@[Melia]
As she gave the stranger before her a once-over, something within his black tresses seemed to move, something that Melia could catch the ghost of but wasn’t quite sure what it was, until the serpent's white-tipped face brushed aside the stallion’s mane to look at her properly. Melia covered the initial shock, her face unmoving, save for a slight tip of her brow before the iridescent python slipped off the white-marked ebony stallion’s shoulder and into the underbrush.
She scowled, and that devious grin on his face shrunk. As the expression disappeared off his face, hers went back from dark glowering to simple displeasure. It was nice to know that someone understood her silent ques and bothered to listen to them. Her smidgen of respect for the ivory-splotched stallion solidified as he started to duck into the tree beside her.
Although her face remained turned outward, towards the rain and the rest of the meadow, she turned an ear towards him and watched his movements in her peripheral. So long as he understood she didn’t want a conversation and didn’t want anything to do with any kind of romance, they’d get along just fine.
A silence remained for a moment before he made an offer. A place to get out of the rain. His home that he called Silver Cove. For a moment, her father’s blood boiled in her veins. Something about the way he said it, as if she wanted or needed someone to be close to and ‘together’ with anyone - it just wasn’t going to happen.
But Melia had always been pragmatic.
She had nothing right now, and a home, somewhere to be, some kind of schedule to return to, was certainly a lot better than what she had now. The man beside her was… tolerable, at least, and from Melia, that was high praise indeed.
She took in a breath of the cool rainy air to collect herself before she looked towards him, met her green eyes to his teal and responded, “That’s fine. But I have one condition,” she let her words hang and narrowed her gaze slightly, “I am a warrior. Not a herdmare.” Melia would have nothing to do with having children or doting on others - it had never been who she was. She would gladly assist with patrols and whatever else she was asked, but wanted to be firmly left out of the way of conversations or politics.
Any response she got was fine. If he wouldn’t accept her condition, then she would be fine sitting in stormy silence until the rain passed and they could both be on their way. If he did, then she would be fine abiding by orders and finding some semblance of her old life again. It really made no difference to her.
@[Chemdog]
He scoffs through a chuckle, lifting his eye lids a bit, amused with her answer but none the less pleased with it. He leans in a smidge, smirking, “Well, that’s good to know darling –” he sucks in a deep and slow breath through his nose, leaning away again, whistling eerily for a short few seconds and starting to step toward leaving their thicket shelter. His snake appears soon after, twining up his muscled leg and grabbing his withers, slithering into place up on his back comfortably like any python might do to a tree branch. “It’s not a requirement to live there, I’m just being a splendid guy – offering a pretty gir-, ah, warrioress some shelter from the storm.” He’s looking back over his shoulder now, chuffing playfully through flexed nostrils.
He begins to lead the way, and the first leg he does in careful silence; once or twice he mentions where they are, which way they’re headed, so she might find her way about if she doesn’t already know. He travels slowly at first, but pick his pace up after some time, the rain getting harder now, seeming to chase them. He bursts into a full run as the gray clouds churn with black inside them, the dark sky lighting up with fingers of violent lightening. He wonders if she might run with him, closing the distance between them and his home he’s leading her to.
@[Melia] you can post for him in Silver Cove if you want! also, he would love a bad ass warrior around! if she's interested, he wil definitely suggest she stay and be sexy guard lady haha >:}
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