"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
The Pampas is not Ischia. His whiskers are swept well back against his body to avoid touching the dry grasses and a cloud of Distaste leeches out of him and stains the air all around until the songbirds and and insects nearly fall out of the sky when they encounter the wall of his revulsion.
The struggle had been valiant, but she was the stronger of the two of them, more adept, more practiced with the manipulation of emotion, and finally, he had no defense against her. The young stallion turns to his abductor without malice - too intrigued by her to know anger, too hungry to practice his own abilities to her level!
"You stay here?" Warm brown eyes skim over the wide, flat, grassland and find little there worth the trouble. The flowers are not as great as Ischia's. The birds are not as colorful and most are much smaller. Instead of fresh salt, the air is overthick with the scent of dust and cloying nectar, and the few scant trees offer little shade against the leering, tired, sun. The place is dry and brittle but his laugh is still easy.
"How dull this land is. You should have taken me up on my offer to stay in Ischia, instead."
The wall of disenchantment that he projects is greeted by a wry smile from the Seneschal. Though she has never been as obvious in her manipulations, she's enjoyed tested herself against his. Aela has always gone for subtle where it seemed Enoch had no objections for the world to know exactly how he felt.
Aela tries to twist the magic around them, trying to see if her contentment might atleast lure the songbirds back.
"I do," she tells her captive, sensing his view of the Pampas from his projected emotions. "No nereids, I'm afraid." The aquatic types of equine were rumored to be supernaturally lovely - perhaps not so lovely as Aela - but that had been part of the appeal of Ischia. Tropical paradise, attractive mares. The young stallion beside her is unusual; Aela has never seen his like before, but despite his oddity, he is pleasing to look at.
Even if his stay in the Pampas is short, he'll temporarily aid her in making sure their court has what she claimed: that their court was filled with the powerful and the beautiful.
"And what would have done in Ischia?" Aela muses to him, turning her slender head to look at Enoch. Dying of boredom, she imagines. "You really should be thanking me," she says to the armored stallion. Her blue eyes start to skim the flowered horizon, searching for a familiar figure. "But perhaps you can thank the Prince instead."
They doused your soul in water, but the flames raged higher. And they called you devil's daughter, such a pretty liar.
@Enoch
@Obscene in case he wants to make an appearance
08-24-2021, 11:50 AM (This post was last modified: 08-24-2021, 11:51 AM by Obscene.)
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
He had never seen a crustacean before.
He’s not quite sure what to make of the island creature Aela had brought home with her. Handsome thing despite the strangeness and many legs so at least she was keeping in line with her defiant statement of the powerful and beautiful. Perhaps the term “Unique” was the word they should have gone with, it certainly fit Enoch. He had yet to meet with the other captive, the Island Chieftain. He wonders if Tephra has even noticed the raiding of it’s territories and smiles to himself, pleased if the ash-land was bothered. If they hadn’t noticed yet he is sure they will pay attention to what they do next. He remembers Bardot’s words, that Tantalize still lurked in the volcanic jungle. Somewhere. And he quickly shakes Tephra from his mind with a scowl as he approaches the two.
He can sense the captive’s distaste long before he hears it in his voice. Perhaps he should be offended but he isn’t. He’s sure he would find Ischia just as repellant if he was in the other’s shoes. That was the way of the world after all. Shrimp would always crave their oceans, fae would always delight in pranks, and whores will have their trinkets.
Enoch had come when the world was dying and he wonders (as his glittering red eyes travel from his whiskers to that unusual tail) if he had come closer to Spring if that distaste might have morphed into something more open-minded. As he finally ambles close enough, he snorts with amusement at the Seneschals last words and looks at her with his familiar smirk playing across dark velvet lips. “The last I heard the islands had only seabirds for company.” He drawls lazily, a long pointed ear swiveling in Enoch’s direction as the other keeps steady towards Aela. Quiet. Boring. There was only so much sun and sand one could take after all. All those grainy particles getting stuck in hard to reach places, who would willingly want that? Besides they had their own coastline here, if the crustacean got too homesick he could always crawl around the beaches there. “I’ll take my thanks now.” He says with a tilt of his gilded head, his blazing stare focused solely on their captive.
She is different from his Ischian friends. He does not worry about her the way he does the others, or worry about offending her. Perhaps it's the swell of feelings that drifts back and forth between them in one long, continuous duet. Aela's question leaves him quiet for a moment, he knows, without needing to be told, not to try to ply her with sand and sun and sea, and he knows that those trapped to a solely terrestrial life will never fully understand the world when they can only grasp a mere third of it. His expression turns thoughtful, his gaze coming back to her after its disappointing journey.
"We could have taught you how to sing to the ghosts," he offers, with a dry cough - the grasslands do not at all agree with his gills - and a slight shrug barely visible beneath the chitinous shell, "I'm sure nobody interesting has ever died here."
It is easy to discount his island when it's been a simple herdland for so long, but some might make that same mistake of the Pampas, too. Ivar the Imprisoned now, perhaps, but before that? Before, he and his kin had littered the sea with equine bones. Whose bones, he wonders, rest among the poppies? Little songbirds and foxes and mice? Who are the bogeymen of the Brilliant Pampas?
Aela, maybe, but he is not afraid of her. And of the Prince? As if on her cue, the man appears, and Enoch's grin comes alive again. He presses Skepticism and Humor against Aela's awareness.
"With ears like those, I imagine you hear quite well, indeed."
But Obscene continues, and despite the smile on the Ischian's lips, the good-natured young stallion falls away, leaving something more unforgiving. There's a challenge in the air that he does not like. Enoch is not an aggressive creature, but he is a proud one. He does not intend to be bullied and his voice holds all the weight of the sea's calm before a storm.
"You will have to try to take them, then, because I see no reason to give you any."
08-28-2021, 08:19 PM (This post was last modified: 08-28-2021, 08:19 PM by Aela.)
"Sing to ghosts?" Aela muses to her latest captive, her blue eyes lingering on his armored shape. She had known that Ischia had grown quiet, but they had nothing better to do than converse with the dead? Did they not have enough souls on the island, that they had to go seeking those out who had already passed on?
Odd, that is all that Aela can consider it (she knows nothing about Ivar; only knows that there are monsters all across Beqanna).
"Well perhaps we can change that," the Seneschal banters back to the Ischian. Her smile turns wry, wondering if the dun would reveal an ounce of fear in her presence. They have never hurt any of their prisoners in the Pampas, but it does make her curious if the Flower Court had started to make a name for itself. Or did the rest of their world assume it was quiet like so many other territories?
Obscene arrives and gives Aela a devilish smile that earns him one in return. She glances sidelong at the onyx-and-gold Prince, wondering what he made of Enoch's comment about the length of his ears. She doesn't bother to shield her own humor at the captive's reply, but the Empath attempts to craft his skepticism into curiosity. An implication that there was more to Obscene that met the eye, much as Enoch's beloved ocean.
There is a certain amount of pride in the other stallion's voice that Aela finds commendable; she will never waste her time on those who cower and cry.
"We might," Aela continues, playing with Enoch's pride by stoking it into something else. It's an easy emotion to transform into disdain, though she aims for something more along the lines of respect or satisfaction at being chosen for the Pampas. "But we don't choose just anyone to bring here," she says, wondering if a little dignity might be just what the dun needs.
They doused your soul in water, but the flames raged higher. And they called you devil's daughter, such a pretty liar.
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Ah. A mockery of his finely pointed ears. The Prince flashes him a grin, looking rather amused. But it seems his next words really grate against his shell and the Dark Fae only smirks smugly in response. His glittering eyes narrow on the seahorse, intrigued by his cleverness and rankled by his saltiness. Interesting things they make in the sea now. The strange stallion raises his head proudly and a slyness slips over his lips as he hears the weight of defiance in his tone. “And why would I want to take them at all? Are they worth so much?” He counters back, slipping around the crustacean to meet the golden mare beside him.
He does not hide his familiarity with her from Enoch, his dark muzzle pressing affection to the curve of her jaw before quickly drawing away. A mischievous glint in the depths of red as she begins to speak. He slithers a little further around her until Enoch faces them both. “You don’t seem like the boring type.” He says with his familiar smirk, playing along with the mare’s little game. “And I'm not the lying type.” He adds with a satisfied grin, red diamonds glittering in deep dark sockets. He throws his head, sending a wave of gold and black to cascade in ribbons across his broad tarnished neck. The stars across his chest glitter with the stories of other worlds.
“Perhaps Aela can show you our coast before you cast your judgement?”
![[Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fTkjKh9Q/Obscene-Pixel.png){kind=tracking}