"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
Dark storm clouds hover in the distance, threatening rain on this otherwise perfect day. The sun still struggles to shine, but it is rapidly losing its battle. A few birds still sing, but many have already ducked for cover. None of this bothers the red filly as she dances into the meadow, the sweet song of freedom singing through her veins. Her mother had watched her since birth like a hawk. This is the first chance she has had to escape. And escape she has. Oh, she will return, but no doubt her mother would be in a frenzy of worry by the time she does.
That is the last thing on the small girl’s mind, however, as she gambols into the meadow like an ethereal sprite. Her gold gaze skips around, taking in every sight that she can. She pauses here and there to study anything that catches her fancy. First, it is a branch hanging by bare threads from a tree. Then it is a cluster of mushrooms jutting unceremoniously from the side of a log. Yet again is a small toad that takes umbrage to her walking too closely to its chosen resting place. Each time her nose follows where eyes lead, sniffing each item in interest. The toad had been more difficult. The silly creature had kept hopping away.
Before long she reaches the shade of a giant oak. As she gazes at it, gold eyes bright with curiosity, a thought occurs to her just as many thoughts do. Seemingly out of nowhere. This thought in particular though is that this would be the perfect subject on which to test her gift of light. Her mother had always strongly encouraged caution when using that particular power. Something or other about it being dangerous. But how is she to know without testing it?
Stepping forward, gaze fixed on the large tree, she focuses a beam of light upon the bark. She lets out a startled exclamation when a thin, dark line appears in the skin of the tree where the light had touched the surface. With eagerness, she attempts it again. She continues with the slender beam, drawing patterns and swirls and curlicues upon the bark, all the while grinning hugely. When she tires of this, she decides to see what the light can truly do. Focusing her gaze, she broadens the beam, opening up the floodgates within her. The light continues to widen, brightening until it engulfs the red filly in pure, blinding white radiance. She is so focused on expanding the light that she forgets to pay attention to what she is doing to the tree. That is until a forcefully loud crack splits the air. In a blink, the light winks out as she stares at the falling tree in abject terror as it races towards her.
Instinct drives her to leap, and in her fright, her leap brings her nearly twenty feet in the air. Heart thudding at a rapid pace, she stares in awe at the massive tree she had just inadvertently felled. Dropping back to the ground, her gold gaze remains fixed upon the tree until she quite suddenly tosses her delicate head, letting out a chiming peal of laughter. Bounding forward in excitement, she scrambles up onto to the trunk of the fallen tree, all the while laughing in merriment and delight.
It’s a scene that has been played before: a girl walks into the meadow.
Ea has grown tired of her mother and the Amazons, bored by how she is paraded around as a princess and trained to become a queen. How hard could it be to run a kingdom? Her mother was tightly wound; a worrier and an over-thinker, and Ea was neither of those things. She lived with a cool confidence, a relaxed self-assurance. She was important. And so she moved about Beqanna on her own schedule, unconcerned. Today, she felt like venturing to the meadow, where she had not been before.
And so it is a scene that has played before, but not for her.
She is small, still a child and one that has grown more in mind than in body. She looks young with her fluffy tail and her patches of baby hair, but her mind is sharper. Ea takes in everything around her: the dark clouds, promising a storm later that day; the scuffling bugs, hidden in the grasses that almost covered the girl completely; and the trees –
She is startled, momentarily, by a loud crack. She whips her head around to see a tree falling and a red and white girl her age scrambling away from the tree. For a moment Ea is frozen, unsure of what to do, but then the other girl does something unexpected: suddenly, she is giddy – laughing and climbing on top of the fallen tree. The silver fire-girl approaches her, then, reminding herself to move at a relaxed pace.
“That was funny,” she says, though unsmiling. She was unaccustomed to being particularly warm – her smiles were occasional and brief. To show too many emotions, even as a child, was unbecoming of a princess: this she knew. “I’m Ea. What was that?”
Things had gotten boring in the field, so I decided to go explore some more. What could happen, right? Keeping George clenched between my teeth as I walked, slightly swinging him in time to my movement, I headed towards another place that carried the scents of horses. I'd take a few steps then I'd wiggle my rear end a little and kept repeating this until I got to a beautiful meadow filled with flowers, and the unmistakable sound of a child's voice. A big grin spread across my pale lips as I heard this. I LOVED children, they were so much more fun than adults! Turning in the direction of the sound came from, I frolicked in that general direction.
You idiot! it's stupid to approach other women's children! Before it was your job to look after them and play with them, you know nothing of this child or it's mother. If you get into trouble let me take over and do the talking.
Shaking my head vigorously to clear her out of it, I continue on towards the source of the child like voice. A sudden loud crash had me running full tilt towards the source, almost dropping George in my haste. I almost drop to my knees with terror as I saw what had made the sound, and then the laughter of a delighted child sounded above my head. Tilting my head to the side I look up, and see a most strange and amusing sight. A filly floated in the air above the downed tree, but she had no wings to support her. This puzzled me a great deal, but I'd seen some strange things in my short time here, and truth be told I was quite strange myself. I was carefully depositing George at my feet when another child approached, this one quite somber. She was a pretty little thing but the serious demeanor didn't suit a child's face. Smiling brightly I looked up at the little flier and announced myself, and George of course.
Hi! It looks like you're having fun! I like to have fun! I'm Girr and this , I indicate the stick at my feet, is George. Who're you?
I shuffle my hooves beneath my body, white feathering dancing around my pale hooves as I was careful not to squash poor George. I eagerly await the replies of the two potential playmates, a silly grin across my face.
Girr Mare Gypsy Vanner 6 15 hands Maximally expressed Cremello Sabino (ee/aa/CrCr/nZ/SbSb) Invaderless/Homeless/No copies Sael Voice in her head is in italics
Ramiel follows Joscelin gamely at first, stalking her through the forests of their home. Ever since that day by the river, they had grown closer. And as the only residents under the age of three in the Dale, they were each other’s only potential playmates. Today, he means to sneak up on her. But as she wanders further than ever (and with the thunderclouds a looming threat in the sky) it becomes clear that this is no ordinary trek. She plans on taking advantage of the absence of their mothers and leave the kingdom borders. He is immediately interested in this adventure, but more so, he is interested in her safety.
His urge to protect is already a well-sharpened tool.
So the black and gold boy keeps a distant pace behind the girl. When she emerges into the strained sunlight of the meadow, he keeps to the trees a bit longer. It smells different here. The intermingling of many foreign bodies overpowers the faint smell of lush grass and rich earth. He crinkles his nostrils but catches himself before letting out a snort. From the shadows of his hiding place just inside the treeline, Ramiel can see all of the reasons for his overwhelmed nose. More horses than he could ever imagine graze and talk peacefully all around them. The colt thinks that all of Beqanna has surely gathered here, as many as there are.
But after a brief survey, he has eyes only for one of them. Joscelin meanders towards a sentinel oak tree and seems to be admiring its rough bark. Bemused but still wary of threats, Ramiel takes a step towards the tree and the filly, ready to reveal himself. But a sudden, blinding light floods all of his senses and stops him in his tracks. It sears a halo into his eyes and his ears hum with the aftershock of sound. His heart races wildly until he can see once more.
Two others are drawn to the display and he hurries towards them. The bay and white filly stands atop the destruction of her own doing, and not for the first time, the Dalean boy is amazed. Amazed, and also a bit concerned (though not for her safety – it is clear that she can more than take care of herself with such a gift). It was his choice to step out of the trees, but he smiles sheepishly up at her as if she’d caught him following her. Another filly and a mare already cluster around the fallen oak, and he turns to them and smiles politely. “I’m Ramiel, pleasure to meet you two.”
The other filly is overly serious (a fact he can appreciate, to perhaps a lesser degree) but the woman is the complete opposite. She’s much larger than the three foals combined, however, and he doesn’t want to offend the behemoth. So when she introduces the…stick… Ramiel amends his previous greeting. “Err, the three of you that is.”
Perched atop the trunk of the massive oak, she has a wonderful view of the meadow. She is too caught up in her delight to notice it however. Dropping her small nose to the rough bark, she lips it briefly before tossing her head back into the air with another burst of laughter. It is then that she notices the filly approaching her, her expression serious and unsmiling. Turning her head, she watches the girl approach with curiosity. She seems to have a general sense of import surrounding her, and Joscelin wonders. Joscelin’s own father is a king. Some would say that she is quite important as well. But that is something she has little care for. Being a princess holds no interest to her. No, what interests her youthful mind is fun. New places, new objects, new horses. And if in the process of finding all these new things she gets to defy her mother’s edicts, then all the better. Now that is fun.
When the filly asks her question, Joscelin scrunches her little nose slightly, looking at her as though she is slightly daft. What a silly question! (In that moment, she does not seem to realize that not everyone knows what gifts she wields and what she may have been doing with them).
Why, it was the tree falling, of course.
When the older (to the young filly, she seems truly ancient, though by Beqanna standards, she is really very young) mare approaches, the red filly turns her bright gaze upon her. She looks between the mare and the stick several times, slightly confused as to why she had just introduced her stick as George. Bounding off the large tree, she throws caution to the wind and approaches Girr and her stick. With curiosity, she sniffs George, only to find he is exactly what she thought. A stick.
Why do you call it George?
When she hears a colt speak behind her, she whips her small head around to see who else had joined their group. A bright smile curves her lips as she recognizes her brother (or half-brother, as the case may be, since they share only a father). Turning from the mare, she reaches him in a single leap, butting him playfully as she does. With sudden frown, she turns, realizing she has forgotten to tell them something very important: her name.
so watch me close as i unveil -
you are the heart and i am the nail.
Two more arrive behind the silver girl, attracted by the commotion. One – a fully grown mare amongst children – holds a stick in her mouth before tossing it on the ground before her and introducing it. Ea has not seen much outside of her Jungle-world, but she has seen enough to know that carrying around and treasuring a stick is more than unusual. Ea’s eyes change subtly to a green with curiosity as she examines the mare. She – Girr – was about the same size as Ea’s mother, Scorch, but much stockier. Her first thought was that this was a trick of some sort – a test, perhaps, that her mother sent for her – but upon further inspection, Ea was pretty sure that this was just a mare who was a bit strange. The red and white girl approaches Girr and the stick, inspecting it. “It’s a stick,” Ea says, a bit rudely, though not on purpose, “why should it have a name?”
The boy who approaches, Ramiel, seems to be already familiar with Joscelin. They are siblings, perhaps, or just live in the same kingdom, though Ea does not share their familiarity with any of the foals in the Jungle. She has seen them around, of course, but she generally does not approach others, and most of her time in the Jungle is spent training with her mother.
It is obvious to Ea that the red and white filly is boisterous and outgoing, while the black and gold colt is more reserved; more like Ea. She appreciates this, knowing that most foals are similar to Joscelin, running around and playing games. She had never learned to play games but also never cared to; she preferred to spend her free time alone, and most of her other time was spent making pleasant conversation with older people, which suited her fine.
“So are you from anywhere?” She asks the three, making pointless small talk. “I’m from the Amazons. This is actually my first time in the Meadow,” she admits, looking around at the large groups standing amongst the high grass.
I look inquisitively at the little roan, when she said that about George. My lips turn down in a momentary frown, my eyes alighting on her face as she continues speaking. A jungle? Hmm, I'd have to look into that, though I'm not sure I'd fit in there if they were all as dour as this cute little girl was. I lower my head until it's at the height of the little ones, and I speak again, my voice as childlike as theirs.
His name is George because I play with him. Picking sticks up and shaking them is fun and George goes with me everywhere. Don't you play with things?
My white tail whisks to and fro against my rump, the barely discernible streaks of cream in it and my mane glinting in the light. I knew I was a bit odd, but who didn't have their own little quirks? Ea looked as if she'd be one of the serious leader types, though the other two little ones promised fun. Perhaps I could get Ea to have some fun too, you can't always be serious. Tilting my head sideways, I smile at them all, a bubble of laughter escaping my lips.
Would any of you like to play a game? I live in the Deserts and there is nothing to do there. What is this jungle you speak of Ea? The Field and the Deserts are the only parts of this place I've seen, well besides this meadow obviously.
“Ours too.” He says, when Ea reports that it is her first time in the meadow. Ramiel looks pointedly at Joscelin then, as if reprimanding her (and also questioning if it indeed is her first time here). But his grey lips curve into a crooked smile when he turns back to the young Amazon. “We’re from the Dale – supposed to be there now, really.” Nervous energy streaks through his veins, freezing them when he remembers that they have broken the rules. But it’s only a brief lap through his system, and in the next moment, he’s grinning again. Sometimes, opportunities simply must be seized. Sometimes it’s better to dive in head-first, no bars. “But they can’t keep us down forever, right?”
The other girl smells far different than anything his nostrils have ever encountered. For the first time, Ramiel really realizes how vast their land is. That one girl could come from such a faraway place with exotic, pungent smells while the next foal could come from an entirely different land astounds him. There is so much to learn, so much to explore. He feels like an insignificant ant emerging from the safety of its burrow, surfacing in a world he will never fully know. He realizes, for the first time, that he is just a boy who still has a lot of growing up to do.
It’s a twofold revelation. On one hand, it makes him feel powerful; the world is his for the taking. But on the other, he wishes his childhood was already past. Girr tempts them with sticks and games. And where it had seemed irresistible only minutes ago, now he thinks he is over such silliness. There is work to be done.
But the black and gold colt is ever-polite, and the mare is both innocent and earnest in her attempts. So instead of drawing her into a game, he answers her question. “We like looking under logs, which are basically big sticks.” He indicates Joscelin with a turn of his head. He wonders if she’ll take the bait to play. If she does, he’ll reluctantly join in (if only not to miss out on anything). Fortunately, Girr turns the question on Ea, and the boy is eager to hear her answer. Learning is power, and he wants to know everything.
Thunder rumbles quietly in the distance as the small group discusses Girr’s stick. The first lonely drops of rain fall from the sky, a sure sign of more to come. And though one falls directly onto her white tipped ear, the small filly only flicks it before turning her attention back to the far more interesting conversation. When the stoic girl speaks, Joscelin turns her head, golden eyes fixing upon the roan’s face. Her curiosity is piqued as she studies her - the odd filly from the Amazons who shows such clear disdain for youthful pursuits. When the older mare speaks, answering the amazon’s blunt question, the red and white filly looks back at her, golden gaze slightly baffled at her question.
Well of course I play with things. I was just playing with that tree. I made it fall over. That was pretty fun.
As she speaks, she gives the tree a solid kick as though to emphasize her point. At Ea’s final words however, Joscelin is unable to resist approaching. She had never met an Amazon before, but it sounds very intriguing. She had of course heard them being discussed. She’s far too curious and often eavesdrops and sticks her nose where it does not belong. How else is one ever to learn anything? None of the adults she is familiar with care to discuss the fascinating intrigues of life and politics with a filly as young as she. What else is a girl to do?
So Joscelin steps close to the young roan filly (perhaps a little too close) and proceeds to sniff her, learning what she can of the jungle without having actually visited. Her gold eyes narrow as she draws back and studies Ea before her expression brightens and a grin splits her features.
You’re kinda stuffy, but I like you.
That said, she turns and scoots back over to Ramiel, her grin bright and engaging (and completely oblivious to any insult she might have inadvertently just given). She looks back over the other two, an idea arising as Girr asks if they’d like to play.
We could play in the rain!
She gestures over to the oncoming storm. It is sprinkling now, the droplets of rain coming more regularly.
05-05-2015, 09:31 AM (This post was last modified: 05-05-2015, 09:31 AM by Girr.)
I don't suffer from insanity...
I watch the interactions between the foals with a bemused expression, they were more grown up than I was, which is sad on my part. My shoulder twitches as the rain starts to sprinkle on us, and Joscelin's proclamation is right. Mud IS the best! Setting George down on the fallen tree, I move out from under the cover of what few trees we'd been sheltered under and stand in the oncoming storm, my white mane and tail becoming a sodden mass of frizz as I await the coming of the brown gooey mud. Ms spoil sport of course decides to invade my head at this time, yay me.
What do you think you're doing?!?! We need dignity, to be respected! We do NOT need to play in the mud with the children! Go back and away from this abomination of earth this instant!
I shake my head, sending her out of my thoughts as well as a large arc of water towards the little ones from my drenched mane. As the ground beneath my feet starts to suck at my hooves in the sure signs that we have mud, my blue eyes light up like a kid at Christmas. This was going to be so much fun!
I began to rear and splash in the mud with my front feet, brown goo splattering my once pristine white coat, dirty water splashing in good sized arcs around me. My hindlegs get in on the action as they shuffle beneath me and churn the ground into a boggy mess, capricious laughter bubbling from my lips. I begin to buck and crowhop in a circle, sending out waves of sticky earth toned goo in every direction as I churned up the mud for us all to play in, shouting back to Joscelin, Ramiel and Ea.
Come on in! The mud is fine and gooey!
I continue to play in the downpour, laughing like a madwoman.
Girr Mare Gypsy Vanner 6 15 hands Maximally expressed Cremello Sabino (ee/aa/CrCr/nZ/SbSb) Invaderless/The Deserts/No Clones Sael Voice in her head is in italics
Ea
