"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
Dawn stretched out across the land, with the barest hint of pink sunlight brushing the horizon. Dew covered grass swayed beneath the soft and quiet steps of the creature that lingered beneath the branches of a rather large tree not far from the lake. Her ruby eyes drifted over the scene, mesmerized by the way the world seemed so pure and green. The vivid colors of the budding day seemed to draw her in. Truth me told, it had been a long time since Lanore had felt peace like this. The peace of childhood hadn't lingered long. There was a short time in which she'd been allowed to be a babe, untouched by the reality of her lineage and the adult ideas that her young mind couldn't fathom. In those moments when her mother softly sang her to sleep each night, she had believed for a time that she had been loved.
Much like icicles hanging from a branch, those memories were shattered by the reminder that she'd been left alone in the darkness of the forest. Not because of something she had done, or even what she was; but rather the possibility of what she could be. Her ruby eyes that had set her apart, her mothers only reminder of her father, had marked her as unwanted. You would never know. She moved with a calm and peace about her, as if the world had not shuddered beneath the wrath of her father. She nosed the wet leaves among the bushes as she passed by, drawing the dew off each with a quick lap of her tongue. These days she did not let the memories of the past ensnare her.
She paused to watch a bird as it flit up from within the bush she stood before. A small puff of its chest and a protest in the form of a chirp escaped the little bird before it flew away just as quickly as it had appeared. Her breath hitched in her throat and for a moment she was rooted, ruby eyes searching for the tiny fiend. She had always been fascinated with birds. To fly away on a whim was a dream she didn't let herself entertain as often these days as she used to. She'd learned to cherish the sanctity of her solitude. The silence that consumed her life had brought with it far less strife than her short time around others had. In truth, she really had no trouble to fly away from anymore.
Lillibet’s itinerant wandering has grown limited in the months since she declared Pangea her home. The weeks following Sylva’s fall into the sea had called for frantic searching, and then with the ebb and flow of her grief came the fatigue. Her searching had slowed, had drifted to the back of her mind, until she had made the canyon wasteland hers. What is the point now, to continue searching nearly a year after the disappearance of her family? There is no place in Beqanna that she had not investigated, and no one had seen or heard of the missing trio since the South had disappeared beneath the tumultuous sea.
She knows she is not the only one missing someone from the Southern kingdom, and it’s Fyr that lingers in Lillibet’s mind as she lazes around the Field with half-hearted hopes of coming across any of them: Link, Oceane, Ledger, Aela.
But the field is quiet for now, though there’s still time. The day is young. The rising sun meanders at the horizon, dawn prolonged for a few quiet minutes before the rays splash orange across the common land. It plays against the preternatural glow of Lillibet’s ivory coat and, nearby, the champagne dun of a stranger she hadn’t previously noticed. Lillibet’s honeyed eyes watch the woman for a moment, assessing the curve of her double horns and the ruby of her eyes before deciding to move closer through the long verdant grasses.
The little bird that had caught the stranger’s eye flits by Lillibet on its way through, singing its lilting song. The Pangean sovereign smiles as her gaze connects with the other woman’s, though there are hints of her fatigue that linger on the edges of her gold-flecked eyes.
“Good morning,” she says quietly to avoid rupturing the peace in the field, “I’m Lillibet. Are you new to Beqanna?”
I do not want to move mountains;
I want the mountains to see me coming
and to crumble.
The little bird didn't linger long in the air. It hovered not too far away and her red eyes widened as she realized that she and the small creature were not alone. She met a pair and pale eyes and for a moment she couldn't breathe. Panic swelled in her chest and her throat tightened as she swallowed reflexively. When was the last time she'd ever seen another of her kind up close? She'd certainly observed from afar, seclusion affording her to often go unnoticed. Now, however, she was far to close to feign she'd not seen the other. She was fairly confident that she wouldn't know the words to say to express herself. What few conversations she'd had when she was but a child had not afforded her enough knowledge in speech to really convey much.
She blinked and forced herself to breathe. She took a moment to observe the other, curiosity just as high on her list of concerns as her current state of internal panic. Golden stripes, so very reminiscent of the stripes she'd seen on Zebras in her trek to these strange lands, seemed painted like a jewel of rare metals across her face and limbs. She was certainly unique in comparison to any of their own kind that Lanore had ever seen before. She didn't appear threatening, though Lanore couldn't exactly say she'd be the best to judge that. She'd never exactly encountered much danger beyond her first few months alone in those woods after she'd realized her mother was not coming back.
She spoke and Lanore's ears tipped forward, her head tilting as she eyed the mare for a moment. Why was she so certain she was going to fail at any sort of civilized conversation with the mare? For a moment she wanted to test her name on her own lips, but she was certain she could not recreate the sound the mare had uttered. Instead, as if it was all she could muster, she nodded her head ever so lightly and offered a small smile as she spoke back in the barest and most uncertain tone, "I-... I'm...La-Lanore." It came out shaky, but she was at least hopeful that it conveyed her lack of language and not a lack of mental capacity. "Where..." She began, confused on how to say what she wanted. Her ruby eyes trailed to the land around them, hoping to convey her inquiry when her trust in her own voice and words would not let her tread further.
02-27-2022, 01:59 PM (This post was last modified: 02-27-2022, 02:00 PM by Aela.)
She leaves the North behind her one early autumn morning and it brightens her more than the prospect of a new day.
Aela had hoped by coming here, she might gather fresh news. The Calamity - or the Sinking of the South - was old history by now. Most horses knew of the event and they all seemed to make a claim of it. (’I knew a mare that lived in Loess. We grazed together once.’’Well I knew two horses from Loess.’)
It wasn’t reiterating that history that she was interested in.
If her scoundrel of a half-brother, Wherewolf, had survived the flooding, it gave Aela the certain proof she needed that others from the Brilliant Pampas had as well. The Ruins hadn’t yielded any more flotsam. She had been surprised to find Beyza - a face from her Pangean past - near the River; and then she had been disappointed to find nothing in the Forest. So she had turned her lovely blue eyes to where herds of horses congregated in hopes of finding a future.
The sun was barely over the horizon, and while Aela has always enjoyed an early start, there were many still tucked safely in the lingering shadows. Her slender head lifted, glancing about as she scanned the open landscape. A pair of mares caught her attention, one horned and another striped; nothing about them seemed unusual (but then, there was nothing about Aela that marked her as unusual either). Moving deftly through the Field, she approached quickly enough to hear the ruby-eyed mare stammer.
Was it from the shock of arriving in Beqanna? Or was she like Aela, having to find a voice after years of silence?
"You two are up early,” she says, stopping nearby and then smiles as if she knew a secret. "Not causing trouble, I hope?”
@Lillibet
@Lanore im the worst and i take forever but i finally got a reply up!
03-02-2022, 02:07 PM (This post was last modified: 03-13-2022, 05:37 PM by Lillibet.)
Lillibet
The silent moment immediately following Lillibet’s greeting and inquiry extends much longer than she would have expected. There is something that has unsettled the ruby-eyed woman, it would seem, and the Pangean sovereign can’t help but wonder if she is the cause. Her own amber eyes move away from the stranger and down to her own legs, and then behind her back, to see if there is something on her that would have caused the other woman alarm. Upon finding nothing of interest, Lillibet returns her gaze to the stranger and offers a small smile, encouragement mixed with a healthy helping of confusion. Lanore, the name is stuttered after the moment passes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lanore,” she offers in return without mentioning the horned woman’s language difficulties. With time would come expertise. Lillibet herself lives with shortcomings ─ mostly of the magical variety ─ and so rarely does she point low-aimed barbs at others with her own achilles heel so blatant.
She flicks an ear, attention pulled in two directions as the sound of nearby hoofsteps joins Lanore’s tentative question. Lillibet swings her narrow head to the side, surprised to find someone else ready for conversation so early in the morning.
There is something familiar about the palomino who joins them; not just in her appearance, but in her voice, as well. Lillibet lingers on this thought, her honeyed eyes trying their damnedest to place the woman as she inquires of their intentions on this early morning. An amused grin turns up the corners of her mouth slightly and in return she offers a shrug of her shoulders. “Not yet,” though she is always up for trouble, especially when accompanied by Fyr or Bolder. Her pensive gaze remains on the palomino woman for another beat before succumbing to the thought that she, perhaps, is not someone familiar ─ just someone she hoped would be.
“This place is called Beqanna,” she says as she turns her attention back to Lanore, “Where are you from?” She has spoken at length about outside worlds with Link, but she’d never felt the pull of the unknown ─ not in that way, at least. Beqanna has always offered her enough of the unknown to last a lifetime, most recently proving that the fairies and Dark God Carnage and whatever other omnipotent entities exist within its sphere can change the whole of the continent with one discontented sigh.
It’s this thought that sparks something inside her and Lillibet immediately turns her gaze with furrowed brows back to the palomino woman. She searches her face, perhaps for a moment too long, before asking: “Do I know you?”
I do not want to move mountains;
I want the mountains to see me coming
and to crumble.
