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+---- Thread: [P] A Dance Of Words And Silence (/showthread.php?tid=1528)
A Dance Of Words And Silence - Seree - 01-06-2018
It was an unusually warm day, for winter.
In Denocte.
So the dark-colored equine had happily taken advantage of it, snatching a few estranged bits of herbage that they could find outside the keep and tucking them safely away, now that they were freed from the snow, before heading off for a visit to heights that usually left them frozen where they stood.
The Mountains were too cold in winter, even for them.
But not today.
Today, they seemed to have the endless expanses of mountain stone to themselves, their voice ringing out in an echoing refrain as they sung no particular music, simply ditties of their foalhood and whatever peculiar strains of music wound their way into Seree's head at the time. Half of them made no sense, seeming to come to their consciousness by some strange feat of magic, perhaps. Because honestly, why were they dropping blind people? The music made no sense, but they swore they'd heard it at some point, and the lyrics seemed inescapable, painting the inside of their cranium with their melody and beat despite Seree having no real knowledge from whence they came.
So, questioning such things no further, Seree took advantage of the warm day and lovely acoustics, and danced.
They were so consumed by their solitary dance that they failed to notice the approach of any, consumed utterly by the music in their mind and heart, the way their beats and song echoed upon the mountain ranges and how the stone echoed it back to them. Consumed wholly by the dance as they dipped, trotted, passaged, piafed, spun, twirled, all of the above and none, nothing but their lone song surrounding them, joyous in their carefree celebration of nothing and everything, a celebration of a warm day in winter.
@Mikhael
RE: A Dance Of Words And Silence - Mikhael - 01-09-2018
The path wound through the cold mountains, reminding him of the peak that neighbored his childhood home. It had been one of the few constants in his life - his mother had been far more interested in chasing after his father's affection than nurturing the growth of her sons. Their father, well, he had wanted them to be soldiers, and Mikhael was not that. It had been established early on that the peak was forbidden territory. He had once asked why, and received nothing but a new scar for it. 'You are to never go to the peak. You wouldn't betray your brothers, would you?' His sire's harsh words were a cold echo through his mind as he wound his way up the path, the cool mountain air nipping gently at his skin.
It wasn't until moments later that movement on the path ahead caught his attention. It was blurry at first, startling him into stillness. Then he was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he was not alone, the sound of hooves against rock filling his ears. Slowly, he continued forward, until he could see their figure, their body dancing in his vision. What he saw was nothing unusual in these parts, he was sure, but he had never before seen someone like this. Their jet-black coat reminded him of Rowena, but that was not what was unusual about them; no, it was the brilliant stripe of green that seemed to extend across their topline, down the crest and across the back. It was the color of fresh spring growth, and he was - shocked? confused? - to see it splashed across another horse. Was it paint? he wondered, creeping a little closer. He didn't want to be rude, his
He watched them dance, their hooves beating out a rhythm against the cold unyielding stone. Part of him felt uncomfortable to witness this stranger's routine, the gyration of their body as they danced with abandon across the rocks. Yet he felt oddly at peace, his mind going quiet as the clicking of hooves continued on. It didn't take him long to realize why; an image of Katla's body flashed in his mind, her delicate movement as she danced to her own drumbeat, the rising sun illuminating behind her. They had traveled all night, and she had been his eyes, guiding him faithfully through the forest.
He had learned to be independent since then, or at least he liked to think so. He had come this far - if that was not proof of his independence, he wasn't sure what was. Turning his gaze away from the stranger in front of him - perhaps if it seemed he wasn't looking - he craned his neck and grasped at the edge of his cape, pulling it further around his shoulders. He did not have the advantage of muscle on his side, and often found himself lacking in warmth. The stranger kind enough to give it off their back forever had his gratitude.
Turning back, he finally finds the voice to speak. "Pardon me," he projects the words from mouth, hoping they will be heard over the hollow beat. It slices through their gentle ballad, jagged as the cliffs that surrounded them. It had been a long while since he had spoken to anyone - to be in the presence of another, however accidental or short-lived, was a relief. "Is this the way to the Night Court?" He inquired, his gaze shifting to the path beyond them.
It wasn't until moments later that movement on the path ahead caught his attention. It was blurry at first, startling him into stillness. Then he was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he was not alone, the sound of hooves against rock filling his ears. Slowly, he continued forward, until he could see their figure, their body dancing in his vision. What he saw was nothing unusual in these parts, he was sure, but he had never before seen someone like this. Their jet-black coat reminded him of Rowena, but that was not what was unusual about them; no, it was the brilliant stripe of green that seemed to extend across their topline, down the crest and across the back. It was the color of fresh spring growth, and he was - shocked? confused? - to see it splashed across another horse. Was it paint? he wondered, creeping a little closer. He didn't want to be rude, his
He watched them dance, their hooves beating out a rhythm against the cold unyielding stone. Part of him felt uncomfortable to witness this stranger's routine, the gyration of their body as they danced with abandon across the rocks. Yet he felt oddly at peace, his mind going quiet as the clicking of hooves continued on. It didn't take him long to realize why; an image of Katla's body flashed in his mind, her delicate movement as she danced to her own drumbeat, the rising sun illuminating behind her. They had traveled all night, and she had been his eyes, guiding him faithfully through the forest.
He had learned to be independent since then, or at least he liked to think so. He had come this far - if that was not proof of his independence, he wasn't sure what was. Turning his gaze away from the stranger in front of him - perhaps if it seemed he wasn't looking - he craned his neck and grasped at the edge of his cape, pulling it further around his shoulders. He did not have the advantage of muscle on his side, and often found himself lacking in warmth. The stranger kind enough to give it off their back forever had his gratitude.
Turning back, he finally finds the voice to speak. "Pardon me," he projects the words from mouth, hoping they will be heard over the hollow beat. It slices through their gentle ballad, jagged as the cliffs that surrounded them. It had been a long while since he had spoken to anyone - to be in the presence of another, however accidental or short-lived, was a relief. "Is this the way to the Night Court?" He inquired, his gaze shifting to the path beyond them.
RE: A Dance Of Words And Silence - Seree - 01-27-2018
When one danced alone, one could predict every beat, every turn. Every piaffe was hardly a surprise, and there was no wonder or amazement to the music you created. That didn't mean that it was not still enjoyable, but life was always a bit more fun with the element of surprise, was it not?
They ever so loved partner dances, it made them think, kept them on the tips of their hooves and kept surprising them with every new move.
But they were sadly left to dance alone, and they simply allowed their lips to twitch upward ever so imperceptibly. If they were to have an audience, they ought to put on a show worth watching. Each movement was perfectly timed to the beat they created, the rhythm building upon itself so that any listening would have expectations as to how the song would proceed, and Seree made certain to fulfill those expectations and leave their audience smiling.
"Pardon me,"
Seree opened their eyes from where the green orbs had been closed in dance, and they found that they were facing away from the stallion who had spoken to them. Without breaking the beat, they dipped into one final turn and re-oriented themself to face him, allowing their hooves to still as they looked back to him, crown of golden antlers tilting inquisitively at the man of mottled blacks and whites.
"Is this the way to the Night Court?"
Why yes, it most certainly was. But Seree was in a playful mood, still riding high on the exhilaration of dance and song. Music still sang in their veins and it spilled from their lips in laughter of a similarly jaunting kind.
"That depends, what brings you to the land of my people?"
They stepped forward as they said it, their natural inclination to be close to others bringing them several steps forward so that the two now stood as close as those in friendly conversation might. Seree showed no ill will or suspicion in their tone or visage, only playful teasing and understanding that this man whose very air screams him to be soft-spoken means no harm. They only wished to play a bit, and had no doubt that this new stranger was innocent in his intentions. He carried himself with anything but the air of a warrior.
@Mikhael
OOC: Sorry for the delay! Started the new semester ^^;