"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
10-02-2015, 02:29 PM (This post was last modified: 10-02-2015, 02:34 PM by Esileif.)
I'm your Queen, you're my Ruler.
If she had been able to the young girl would’ve rolled her eyes in their cases. ”Idiots” she mumbles to herself as she silently eyes the big mess in the meadow. And then to imagine it was actually her father who started the ridiculous thing. For a moment she watches him, but her presence wouldn’t change a thing, and so she turns her back on the group and walks away. She wanders around aimlessly, as she had been doing for a while already. Now she had come of age it had been time to leave her parents and the herd, to enter the world and seek out her own place among others. Esileif had been sanguine, thinking it would only take her a few days to find herself a new place, but she had come to realise that it was actually a little harder than she had thought.
The meadow hadn’t been a success to her and so she finds herself around the field a little while later. Esileif had always deemed herself better than this, thinking that only shameless no-lifes came to this place. And now she found herself in these lands. How naïve could she have been, not that she would admit that out loud. ”Guess who’s the idiot in the end..” she mumbles to herself. So well, the previous statement might not have been entirely true either, but right now there was no-one around to hear her and that made it different. Or so the young girl concluded.
ESILEIF
Belgarath x Alasia
OOC: Still a little lame I guess. Still need to figure Esi out I guess..
we all carry these things that no one else can see they hold us down like anchors; they drown us out at sea
In his former life, the field had become something of a second home. One of his talents had been in recruiting; it was one of the few ways that he had been able to actually contribute to Heaven. He had never particularly fit the white knight mold of the kingdom—in fact, it had often fit him like a second skin shrunk too tight—but he had grown to love it. If only because he had loved her, and she had loved it.
Now she was gone and he had returned, but the love for it had not disappeared—not completely. He now loved it for the ghosts that resided there; for the way that he could sometimes see her when blinded by the sun or smell her on the wind. And now Heaven needed help. Even the help of a stallion like him.
So he went back to the field, wandering amongst the crowds with his naturally graceful step. His strength was coming back more and more each day, the death and decay slipping from him as he fell back into something of a pattern. He was not a particularly large stallion, coming in at 15’2”, but he was powerful—his body built for the brutality of war. His coat (dusk and gold) was covered with the webs of scars both earned and given, and his face still bore the handsome nature of youth, despite the decades that had passed since his birth. He supposes that is what happens when you spent much of that time dead.
It is not until he hears that girl thinking outlaid that he stops, ears perking in interest as he moves her way. “Most likely me,” he says with a shadow of a smile. “I’ve found that I’m often the idiot in the end.” In more ways than one, but he doesn’t feel like diving into the particulars. “My name is Magnus, but you can call me idiot if you’d prefer.” He nods politely, “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
Fennick found an odd sort of peace in the Field. He loved his home with a near hunger, but some days the weight of responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders. In the Field he could talk to people who didn’t know him, and do his duty by the Valley without feeling like he could fail.
No, not all recruitment attempts would end with a new horse in the Valley, but they mostly ended in valuable conversation. That was close enough to success. You couldn’t be a perfectionist with these things. Not every situation, but certainly in this one, Fennick employed the “A for effort” theory.
Wings made his trips easier and he feet less sore when he got there. The Field was far enough from the Valley to be prohibitive for all but the most determined. He had been in that category before his appointment as Högerhand, but he wouldn’t lie and say Demian’s gift hadn’t been very timely and much appreciated.
They didn’t, however, make him any more graceful. He landed with enough ruckus to wake the dead. Huge, massive wings unfurled in the air, only to recollect on his back, inky primary feathers long enough to trail on the ground. He was still getting used to them, and it would take some time.
Fennick usually made some attempt to ensure he didn’t have a audience for his landings. So, when he heard a muttered, “idiot.” He cringed visibly. Had it really been that bad? He turned around slowly, to see a faintly orange girl. He looked at her carefully, then smiled.
She hadn’t been talking to him, thank god.
Her companion he did recognize. He had met Magnus in this very place not too long ago. He smiled faintly and made his way to them. A little sheepish for his interruption.
“This sounds like my kind of gathering.” Namely, a gathering of idiots. If any group was to suit Fennick, it would probably be this one. Another self deprecating grin he introduced himself to the girl and nodded in greeting to Magnus.
“I’m Fennick.” He said simply. He’d learned overtime that occasionally his jokes fell flat, and it was better to wait to make them until after introductions at the very least.
It was time to put a little more effort into finding new pieces to add to his collection. He wanted the Mountains to be filled with his toys, wanted them to carry his children who he could then hand over to the Chamber. Ready made recruits. He wanted girls whose emotions he could play like a violin, pulling the strings out piece by piece. He wanted them young or old, fat or thin. He didn’t care, he just wanted them for his own amusement and pleasure. And if they seemed to show some sort of spark of intelligence, of blood thirstiness like himself, then he would gladly claim them for the Chambers behalf. It was a win win no matter what.
He makes quite an entrance as he soars through the fresh spring air, white angel wings spread as his hooves hit the ground before them. He lands lightly, ruffling his feathers before the wings crumple down and fold into his side. He give them a predatory grin as his crimson eyes (bright and glowing) assess the group before him. A mare and two stallions. Perhaps Magnus would recognize the red eyes of his sire. Although Gryffen and Magnus had never met, No Crosses Count and the buckskin had quite an old history. Fennick was a stranger to him as well although he could catch a faint scent of the Valley off of him. He offers Fennick a slight nod of his head. As the Chamber and Valley were allied, he had no intentions of causing any problems with him unless things were to go sour of course. His main focus is on the girl. Young and attractive. Larger than your average mare. It reminds him vaguely of someone but he doesn’t make the connection to Belgareth. Perhaps she would smell the cool scent of the Mountains on him and think of home. That’s where he plans on taking her anyways. ”Gryffen.” The Chamber ghost introduces himself cooly, regarding her quietly for a moment. ”From Mourning Mountains and the Chamber.” While he likes his toys broken and bruised, sometimes you wanted to add something of high quality to the collection. Just for fun.
”Shit” she – accidentally – curses out loud as she jerks her head up to look at the stranger. Her eyes meet the buckskin male and she swears that she hadn’t seen him near her before. If she had known he was near she wouldn’t have spoken those words out loud, she wasn’t the one to downgrade herself with words when others could hear it. And she cursed at herself for being so stupid to let him hear. The double painted mare frowns slightly at his words and snorts as she let her eyes ghost across him as the look in her eyes hardens a little. ”And why, Magnus, would you admit your faults so easily to a stranger like me?” she cannot help but ask, as it was in total opposite of the way she saw the things. It takes Esileif a few seconds to realise what she has said, causing the young peachy girl to cast her gaze downwards as she feels flustered. It had been another slip of the tongue.
Before she’s able to give him her name a black winged male joins their little party. The frown once again appears on her face, not able to stop herself from thinking how it had been possible that she got herself in this situation. Clearly he too had heard her words and it only confirmed her that she indeed had been too careless to let the words just slip from her mouth. ”My name is Esileif.” This time she had managed to bite back the impulsive words and instead introduce herself to the two males that seemed to think of her as worthy enough for their time. ’Well of course I am, but it’s nice to have it confirmed’ she mutters to herself in her head, before a soft sigh escapes her lips. As she tilts her head to the side her gaze travels to the brand underneath his left eye, finding it oddly interesting.
Esileif is surprised to see an oddly red eyed male joining them and just like Fennick he supports a pair of wings. But the thing that interests her the most of the smell that lingers on his skin and the tobiano mare cannot stop herself from stretching and curving her neck to take a better sniff. ’Home’ is the thought that flashes through her thoughts as she studies him. ”The Mountains you say. That means my father no longer rules those lands” she states. It surprises her to hear it, far as she knew her family still lived there as it hadn’t been too long ago that she had left to search for her own home. Yet Gryffen’s scent is intertwined with the Mountains’ one and therefor left no doubt that he lived there for quite a while already. It was like she had been frozen in time as everything else carried on, and it confuses her. Her gaze travels away to look at the buckskin and the black male. The look upon her face has softened somewhat and she even offers them a smile. ”I’m Esileif” she says as she turns her attention back to the pale one. With that the introductions are done, or, at least for now.
The peachy and bay mare lifts her head a little, to look at her companions with some slight hesitation. She was new to this, after being spoiled by both her parents. Esi had always been her daddy’s little girl and she had grown used to that. It maybe was a little naïve, but she hadn’t know any different. And therefor she couldn’t help but to act a bit bratty. The air that lingers around her is one of pride, misplaced pride, but it’s there nonetheless.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
Magnus finds that he is comfortable for the first time in a while, the self-deprecating humor having just enough truth in it that he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. It was nice when he did not strive so hard for that white knight ideal that he could never quite catch. Smiling easily at the company surrounding him, he nodded toward Fennick. “There are worse gatherings,” his smile is warm, the buckskin winking one gold-flecked eye toward the other. He wouldn’t forget the kindness Fennick had shown him.
Of course, such ease does not always last, and it evaporates at the approach of the red-eyed stallion. If only Magnus knew Gryffen’s mother, one of his dear friends, or his father, one of his bitterest enemies. All that the stallion knows is that he is instantly on edge, and he narrows his gaze slightly, taking in the winged wolf. He knew that he had a tendency to jump to the offensive quickly, but a hard life had taught him to trust his instincts—and he was rarely wrong. But he doesn’t say anything regarding his suspicions; he just tucks it away, shifting so he could keep an eye on the red-eyed wolf a little easier.
Forcing himself to relax, he gave a shadow of a smile to the mare he had approached. “Sorry for spooking you like that,” he dipped his handsome head in apology. “I should have announced myself.” He takes a second to consider her question before answering quite honestly, “It took me a long time to accept the broken edges of myself. I suppose it’s easier to admit it than hate myself for it.” Not that he didn’t fall into the trap of self-loathing from time to time (more often than he cared to admit), but he was old enough to try. Listening with perked ears, he spoke up when she spoke of her father, “I take it your father was a herd stallion?” Genuine interest laces his husky voice. “Are you looking for a herd to join yourself?”
Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun
Fennick’s lips twitched just a bit at the flustered look on Esileif’s face. It was like looking in a female mirror. It was odd, not being the flustered one. He’d gotten so used to it that seeing someone else do it looked strange, as if they were saying his lines in a play.
Still, he knows better than to comment on it.
He’s had his own misfortune pointed out enough to know that it was never appreciated. He did nod in response to her name. Esleif. It was unusual, and Fennick was not likely to forget it. She looked at him for a moment, and he realized it was his brand she was looking at. He didn’t mind, it was practically impossible to miss. No one would ever say that the Valley is subtle. No, when they did things they did them big.
Some of the more shrewd negotiations had been able to wrangle a kinder branding method or a less obvious placement. Fennick hadn’t bothered. Like a calf to a branding iron, he wandered up without protest. Unlike a calf, he didn’t regret his decision later. He liked to have something physical to mark his connection to his home. Of course, he did have his wings for that. The massive black things weren’t in the least bit subtle either. Fennick inwardly shrugged. You would never know his was a guy was wasn’t trying to attract a lot of attention.
She asked Gryffen about the mountains and the black stallion groaned inwardly. He’d encountered both Gryffen and Magnus in his various scouting trips. Magnus seemed like a good enough sort. Gryffen was an ally. That was about the last good thing Fennick could say about him. He knew the white stallion was useful to the Chamber, and the Chamber was a useful ally to the Valley. That was all Fennick really needed to know. Still, the dude was creepy.
Magnus then asked the question that had been on Fennick’s mind as well. Was she looking for a herd? If that was the case Fennick wouldn’t be of much use. But still, there was no harm in having options. He followed up on Magnus’ question.
“Have you ever considered a kingdom?” He wasn’t about to shove a sales pitch down her throat. Fennick had just mastered (or improved upon) his normal, functional communication. Pushiness was still a league or two away.
The attention of the three males made her feel good. She appreciated it that they had come to her, to talk to her, ask questions and show interest. Yet she also couldn’t help feeling slightly disgusted. Not because of Magnus or Fennick or Gryffen, but because of herself. Silently she had admit to herself that she had been too naïve about this all and it only confirmed that she was indeed still a child at heart. There was still a lot to learn about life. That discovery causes Esileif’s mood to drop and only sparked her slightly arrogant and bratty attitude. Which only showed how much of a child she still is.
The buckskin males apology contradicts that again and the bay and faintly orangey white girl cannot stop the small smile from pulling up the corners of her lips. Yet she does not verbally respond as she lifts her Spanish influenced head a little higher. The breeze catches her mane making the tips dance a little as she moves. His words have her frowning a little and she tilts her head slightly to the side when she meets Magnus’ gaze. ”Easier to admit than hate yourself for it..” she mumbles out loud, repeating his words as she let them settle in. Esi supposes he’s right and as she looks at him silently she can only guess that he has seen much more of the world they live in than she had.
Esileif’s gaze moves towards Gryffen for a second before she nods her head and directs her attention back to Magnus again, but not without a quick glance in Fennick’s direction. ”Yes, my father Balgarath once ruled the Mourning Mountains.” She pauses as she lets his words settle in. It felt she had left the mountains only days ago and it confused her to learn that her father was no longer the mountain herd’s lord. It was impossible for things to change like that in this short amount of time, and Gryffen’s scent was totally intertwined with that of her former home.
She’s about to answer when Fennick joins in on their conversation again. Honestly, she hadn’t really thought about a new home when she had left her old one to seek a new one – another naïve thing. ”Your words sounds promising, Fennick” she replies softly, her eyes now on the winged black male. Yet she cannot ignore Magnus’ words either and thus she moves to look at both of them at the same time. ”I honestly feel like the herdlife alone is a little boring, meaningless..” she starts off, not really sure how to express herself clearly. ”I think I want more, be more, than just a broodmare..” She hates how vulnerable that sounds, somewhat desperate even. Like a little child that searches for an adult role model to learn from. And she had thought she was that adult already.
ESILEIF
Belgarath x Alasia
OOC: This sucks.. I really don't know how to write her..
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
Trying to balance the art of conversation with several personalities was always an interesting one, but it was luckily a skill that Magnus had learned a long time ago. He is quiet when he needs to be and talkative when the conversation lags. For now though, he is patient, gold-flecked eyes occasionally flicking toward the red-eyed wolf, his attention diverted there even when his gaze was not. There was something about the other stallion that put him on edge—something that told him to keep his guards up around him.
When she answers Fennick’s question, he brightens, a smile shadowing his lacerated lips, one corner rising. “I feel grateful that I don’t have a herd or you would have broken my heart,” his voice is light and teasing. “I’m actually from Heaven’s Gates, one of the kingdoms. If you’re looking for purpose, you may find it there. While we always open our arms to those souls who need a haven, what we truly need are those who need purpose and who can put their minds and their swords and their souls to use for her.”
He pauses to rolls his shoulders, “I’d love to tell you more about it if you’re interested.”
Dipping his head toward Fennick, “I’m sure Fennick would love to do the same for you regarding his own home.” A thoughtful pause as he looks at her, wondering briefly if she had ever had a chance to visit these kingdoms on her own—or even hear about them often. Many didn’t get the chance. “It seems like an understatement to say this, but choosing a home can be difficult—especially when there are multiple options.” His voice is gentle, gold-flecked eyes burning quietly, “If you would ever like to visit Heaven to see her in person, I’d be honored to show you around.” And with that, he falls silent, looking to Fennick.
Fennick smiled faintly, wrapped up in the comfortable purpose of discussing home. It was one of the few topics that came easily to him. There was much to say about the Valley, and he felt secure in his place there. Purpose was easily found among the heavy mountain fog and tall, towering pines.
Already the weather was changing. Soon those pines would be snow capped, and the autumn grass would be encrusted with a layer of ice and snow. Fennick listened to Magnus talk about the Gate’s, and not for the first time, Fennick wondered if it wouldn’t be a much kinder place to live. He wouldn’t have to keep trudging up and down the mountain, that was for certain.
But still, there was something about the Valley, something about the tall, misty mountains that couldn’t be denied, that wasn’t easy to toss aside. For the first time in his life, Fennick had a child to consider, and still he was happy to place her in the Valley’s rough but secure hands. He gave the mare and stallion a rye smile.
“It’s hard to compete with Heaven.” He wasn’t even being sarcastic. Fennick was almost never sarcastic, a saving grace perhaps, that he didn’t say much but he meant what he said.
“I’m from the Valley. It can get a little chilly, but life is never dull. We’re ruled by Demian. There are plenty of opportunities, whether you’re ambitious or like to take life as it comes. As Magnus said, I’d be happy to show you around.” Fennick was well aware that the Valley wasn’t for everyone, just as every kingdom catered to a different sort. Fennick had long since given up the idea of recruiting. He felt more like a facilitator. If people wanted to come to the Valley, they would, and he would be happy to escort them through their firewall.
The firewall, while useful, could be a little intimidating. There were days he wondered if it didn’t make them see a little insular. A cosmic wall of fire surrounding your whole kingdom tended to give off the impression that you weren’t looking for visitors.
It wasn’t true, and Fennick took it upon himself to make sure everyone knew it.
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