"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
08-23-2015, 06:58 AM (This post was last modified: 08-23-2015, 07:02 AM by Lethea + Mnemosine.)
They are something and they are nothing. They are the scars that line their skin, like artwork, he had said. They were his pieces of beauty, where skin would bubble and flesh would rot, take away the outside, to see the glorious white bone beneath. He had been their creator, in a way that paintings were naked without a brush. They, the two of them, had been his blank canvas, and there, years, years and then some more, they had been multiple masterpieces.
Until now.
Lethea had forgotten, she had found it easy. To remember the sunshine against her eyes, yet not the pain as he dug into their flesh. Her dear sister, Mnemosine, she could not forget. It was her glass-like eyes that saw all, and still, saw all. They were two broken branches, from the same tree. One bent far more than the other. Their bay bodies, mottled with scars, broken by memories and stories. They were, they are, and yet, they walk together as though the world was not some picturesque autumn day. The twins walked with a strange glaze to their eye, their footfalls matching as they strolled side by side, their earth coloured frames knotting in with the burgundy and red leaves as they swirled about them in a myriad of colour.
There were suspicions in Mnemosine's eyes, they were shrouded with a shadow, a memory that flashed even now, in her mind. Lethea, she was whimsical in the way her ebony mane fell across her face, became knots against the wind. Her eyes were as bright as the clear skies, and yet there was a faraway glass appeal, she wore a smile yet knew not what was worth smiling for. She had her sister, and her sister had her. And that was it, and that was all.
And that was all they needed, perhaps.
But the chill in the air, it promised a cold spell, whispered upon Jack Frost's frozen lips. the cold, Mnemosine could feel knit within her china-white bones. Lethea, the dear girl, she was spun by flower petals and delicate leaves. While her sister was the rigid bark that was seeming to hold the duo together. It was her, that had the idea for the two to enter the field. For a chance for something, anything. Her soft brown eyes watched her sister, a slight curve in her fine head kept her smooth in her striding, never breaking cadence with her twin.
'Where will we go?' Lethea asked, her tone a crackle in her parched throat, her dry lips breaking into a sliver of a smile as she gazed upon her sister. The bay twin shook her head, dishevelling ribbons of ebony, casting them across her face, hiding the shame, the disappointment of their scars, their stories. Oh, if only she could be as oblivious as her sister, perhaps she could find some peace.
'Anywhere, anywhere will do, Lethea. Just not here. Not here at all. It is too open, far too open.' right now she did not fancy parading about the field, kicking up the fallen leaves. She would prefer to slink into the shadows, to hide, to forget. Oh, how she longed to forget, like her dear sister. Lethea outstretched her nose and touched her twin's neck, a soft caress, even with a rough muzzle. The touch seemed to quell Mnemosine's wrought nerves, if only for a moment.
'We'll find somewhere. We'll find somewhere...' her words were soft spun silk, and yet her glass-eyes were glittering, shining with the want of tears. Tears for her twin, tears for the pain that mars her bay sister's face.
'I hope you're right. she swallowed, the lump felt like iron in her chest. Oh, she hoped she was right. She hoped indeed.
Lethea & Mnemosine
we are just misguided ghosts, travelling endlessly
All things are possible, even the worst of things.
He has never been here before. It is odd, considering the number of places he had once called home, even if only for a brief span of time. But he had never before had the opportunity, nor the desire, to step foot into the oft traveled field. He glances around him with new eyes, curiosity and hope evident in those dark depths. It is irony at its finest that his first steps into this place bring him here not to search for a home, but to offer one. A quirk of his dark lips displays his amusement at that particular twist of fate.
He halts then, coffee colored eyes surveying his surroundings as he wonders just where to start. A subtle shift in the wind sends leaves scattering across the barren earth, a swirl of amber and crimson frolicking around his sturdy ebony limbs. The playful breeze tugs at his dark mane, twisting the already tangled locks even further. The gust might have done the same to his tail, did he have one. But in an oddity not often seen, genetics had left him without that distinctive feature. Where the rounded line of his rump would typically fall gracefully into a black plume, there is simply nothing.
The air is turning brisk, coats are growing thick in preparation for the oncoming winter. He shivers then, somewhat unprepared for the chill in the air. Having been born in the jungle, then moving to the desert, the place he would call home for the rest of his days, he has grown accustomed to the heat. But he ignores that brief shiver that runs across his pewter flesh. He is not about to give up so easily.
His dark eyes light upon a duo standing close together. Both appear rather rough, somewhat out of place against the glittering jewels of the field. His curiosity gets the best of him then. It has ever been his downfall, the bane of his existence: he cannot resist an anomaly.
Sturdy, rhythmic steps carry him close, close enough to converse easily, not close enough to cause any undue concern. He is a gentlemen after all, even as odd as he is. A slight grin touches his lips as his gaze flicks between the two ladies, the quirk of his lips a greeting he offers many. Dipping his head slightly, he introduces himself then.
Good morning ladies. I’m Shahrizai. Chilly day, isn’t it?
08-26-2015, 01:51 PM (This post was last modified: 08-26-2015, 01:51 PM by Lethea + Mnemosine.)
The two are idle, mane ensnared by invisible fingers, the cold breeze taunts them in a way that reminds only one of them, of the horrors they had faced before. The cold, it feels like ice, penetrating healed wounds. Mnemosine looks at her sister from the corner of her eye, biting at her lip to stop the tremble, from the cold and from the frigid memory that feels like spears of ice digging into her skull. Sometimes she longs to be like Lethea, almost unforgiving in the way she forgets. the bay mare was adamant she had forgot because she needed to, not because she wanted to. He had done far more damage to her than he did Mnemosine. Perhaps that was why...
Lethea rocks on her hunches slightly, swaying in the breeze as though a lost, spare feather. She turns her head to her counterpart and whispers, 'Perhaps we'll find somewhere warm?' her tone is feathery, like the crunch of the broken leaves underfoot. Mnemosine sighs, the voice freezing in her throat. She did not know what to say, all that she was certain anywhere would be better than standing idle in the field, sitting ducks so to speak. She wanted to protect her sister from any more harm, and wanted to protect herself also, perhaps, if it was not too much to hope for, find a home for the two of them.
'Warm is good. Just keeping thinking of warmth. Sunshine and wildflowers.' she smiles, her lips reaching the corners of her mouth, tugging endlessly into what she hoped was a reassuring grin. Lethea nudged her bay sibling and shook her head. 'Sunshine and wildflowers, it's a bit late for that.' she snorts, a laugh betraying the sadness in her eyes as she finds the stranger first. 'Oh, hello.' she says, her voice faraway, a glimmer of hope finding her eye as she watched the blue roan with mild curiosity. Mnemosine was wary at first, ears pressing against her poll as she took a step forward, infront of her twin, a guarding flick of her plume against her hocks, and a slight arch of her neck. She was in no real shape to appear anymore frightening than some thorny rose, with the scars and the moth-eaten appearance they shared, it looked quite like they had stepped out of hell's gates itself.
'Winter is quite the promise it seems.' Mneomsine says, her eyes never leaving the steed, whilst her sister took a wayward step out from her vicinity. 'I'm Lethea and this is Mnemosine.' her smile is like glass, so fragile and easily shattered. Mnemosine shakes her head and offers a small smile. She was not that bad, and she supposed this man was not quite the hellion she had thought. He seemed pleasant enough, but like the rain in summer, it can often fall cold come evening...
'Shahrizai. It's nice to meet you.' she is the diplomatic one, she has known that since the two of them had entered the world. Lethea was the one who took chances and yet would forget the name of the very mother that bore them, and left them. Mnemosine wished she could be that flippant sometimes. 'I don't much care for winter.' Lethea's smile is blissful but her voice cracks and clips, as if near tears, but her eyes are as bright as the winter sun that beams above them. 'Too cold.' as if one cue her coat shivers against the cold breeze as it ensnares the pair once more, causing their ebony manes to fall like rivulets over their earth brown skin. 'How has your morning faired, Shahrizai?''Probably better than ours at least.'
Lethea & Mnemosine
we are just misguided ghosts, travelling endlessly
All things are possible, even the worst of things.
The pair stand close, shivering together like wayward summer flowers, petals accidentally set adrift on a frigid breeze. In that moment, he can only think that they simply do not belong here. He notes their whispering when he approaches, but he cannot quite catch their words. Not until the one farthest from him, the one whose face is adorned in white from forelock to muzzle, offers him an absent greeting. The nearer one steps between them then, a protective gleam in her dark eyes, fluted ears flattened ominously. It is a posture he recognizes. He has defended his own sister in much the same way against a perceived threat. Granted, that threat had been another of his sisters, but that is a tale for another time.
He is not accustomed to being taken as dangerous. It is a novel experience for him, much like his sojourn into the field. He knows that he is a large stallion, though not as large as some. Even so, his forthright and carefree demeanor had always removed whatever edge his otherwise intimidating appearance might have had. He could not blame her for her protectiveness though. He is an unknown. And, given their condition, he suspects they have had far more trouble with unknowns than they would likely care to admit. So, in response to her gesture, he drops his blocky head slightly, an action meant to purvey just how innocuous he is.
He smiles then, a broad smile full of good humor and charm. His voice, when he speaks, is buoyant and warm.
A promise indeed. Here more so than other places though. It is certainly a pleasure to meet you both.
He pauses then as they comment further on the coldness of the weather. As if in response to their words, another blast of frigid air tumbles through the field. He shivers, unable to prevent his body’s automatic response. He must say that he is not fond of this weather either.
Rather ho-hum actually. This cold is enough to get anyone’s spirits down.
His brown eyes survey them closely as he says this. The two are clearly less than thrilled about the cold. He could remedy that easily enough.
Say ladies, I happen to live in the Deserts. It’s decidedly warmer there than it is here. You wouldn’t care to join me, would you? I’d love to continue our conversation, but you girls look fair frozen to the ground.
Mnemosine is plagued by the nightmares, haunted by his eyes ever following, his cruel touch ever scarring, manipulating her skin like his own clay to form a masterpiece. Haunted by these dreams she cannot help but feel the twang of nerves beneath her skin, taut and intertwining with one another like pieces of a puzzle. Her mind plays tricks upon her most of the time, when she gazes at her sister she sees far more than appears. Each scar marks a pattern, a map of the roads they had seem to travel, endlessly, the pair. Perhaps her fear had been misplaced for the few passing moments of silence, that the trio endure, but it is the fear that has held the two together, unable to all apart because of her, being the glue. And her sister, being one of the many broken pieces of their togetherness.
Lethea listens with tulip ears, they flutter gently in the cold, harsh breeze. Her skin peppers with gooseflesh, ebony tendrils whipping around her face as she feels the cold gnaw at her bones and then even deeper. She turns her gaze from her sister and takes a subtle step forward. Her eyes drawing up to meet Shahrizai with a soft, cocoa gaze. 'Oh, the cold is dreadful.''We've been travelling for quite some time, and thought we would have shelter from the winter soon enough. I suppose I thought wrong. Mnemosine's voice is lilting against the wind as she turns and nudges her sister, a wayward gesture that entices her sibling back a step or two. But her gaze never leaves the blue tinged steed, her eyes finding his lack of tail, quite haunting, slivers of memory she seems to capture with errant hands, but they slip from her fingers like feathers upon the harsh winter breeze. 'We both lost something too.''Lethea.. her sister warns with a cutting tone, but then is smooths to a soft velvet when she turns back to the steed, he is perhaps the light that has pierced through their darkness, if only for a few passing moments, giving them time to escape the shadow. 'The Deserts?''They sound so warm, so nice...''If you would allow us to accompany you there, perhaps our conversation will follow the sun and not be as... cold.''Oh, we are dreadfully frozen.' her smile is infectious as she gazes back to the steed, her eyes like glass, a mirror even, reflecting her lost, scarpering mind.
Lethea & Mnemosine
we are just misguided ghosts, travelling endlessly
All things are possible, even the worst of things.
He has never known a harsh touch. These women with their scarred skin and tattered appearance no doubt have gruesome tales they could tell. He could sympathize, but he could never hope to understand. He had been born to a family who loved him, lived his life in relative ease and leisure. While saying that his mother spoiled him might be going a step too far (for any who know Scorch know that she is not a woman to abide by such things), it would certainly not be completely beyond the realm of reality. Fortunately he seems to have turned out well enough in spite of it (or perhaps because of it).
And perhaps that is why he has a greater tenderness for the two sisters. Where he had known a life of ease they had known only hardship. And for that he is sorry, for he would have happily given them his own joy if he could. Unfortunately, he cannot. He can only offer them a bit of warmth, companionship, and a home if they so desire.
Not so wrong. You are more than welcome to accompany me. Come, I’ll show you the way.
His baritone voice resonates strongly in the frosty wind, the words offering a beacon of hope on such a disheartening day. He turns then in the direction of the Deserts, making good on his offer to lead them there.
shahrizai
hestoni x scorch
OOC: I'll go ahead and get a post up for them in the Deserts
