[AW] Stranger

[Silas]

The heat of the summer sun might have left other creatures sweating, dehydrated, melting into the sand. But for him, the rays warmed his pale pelt, and he basked in the sun’s glory. His eyes nearly matched its brilliance, except that they held a molten warmth that enchanted in a way the distant star could not. The sand beneath his feet softened under him, but did not fully give way to his weight as he sauntered through the desert. It was another strange land for him to discover. Although he had seen a desert before, it had been quite a long time. The dry heat enveloped him and seeped into his lungs.

Silas had no real idea where he was, but it didn’t matter. It had been a long time since leaving Argos and the rest of the herd behind. They were no longer the ones to define where he belonged. He ran his tongue over sharpened teeth and smirked. No one would ever tell him his destiny ever again, though he was sure they would try. Deeper into the desert he went, wondering when the locals would discover him, what they would say.

“What new fun shall I have in this strange land?”

[Bexley]

BEXLEY BRIAR

my carnivore heart comes out after dark -

---

Weeks have passed since Bexley last stepped foot in the desert, and she walks back into it with a measure of uncertainty. Summer is waning, but Solterra still runs hot-hot-hot, the sands bleached white, the sun sizzling in the pale-blue sky, and Bex sloshes her way through the dunes with sweat beading on the aureate curve of her neck and dripping into her frowning mouth. A cloud of white hair and gilded skin, she moves confidently, though without aim: the Day court is her home, hot and deathly and utterly familiar, and even without a place to go, it is the source of her power, leached out from under the dunes with effortless desire.

Some time later, when the sun has started to dip, washing its sky blood-red, Bexley finds that she is tired. Her legs ache; her lungs burn. All at once, her consciousness, her intelligence, that biting tongue returns to her, and the feels the weight of exhaustion like iron in her stomach. Gods help her, the oasis is miles away. Resigned to the desert at least until the sun goes down, she turns in a slow arc to look over the scenery around her - endless dunes, a gauzy pink atmosphere, tiny black birds whizzing past overhead, and then her eyes catch on a silhouette in the near distance, and she freezes.

Tall. Dark, and unfamiliar. She inhales and does not recognize the smell. For a moment Bex waves between feigning ignorance and violence, and then, as always, swings toward the more impulsive course of action.

Stranger, she calls out, voice gilded in the warm breeze, what are you doing here?

---

@silas <3  

[Silas]

The longer he waited, the more the sun beat down upon him. There was no mercy as it tore at his epithelial cells. A sheen of sweat soon appeared on his coat, and even more so than before did he shine like a beacon in the desert. He shone, glittered. His scales in turn reflected the sun’s brilliance. Not just a beacon- he was the burning ball of fire lighting the solar system.

But even the sun has to set sometime. As the sunset painted the sky in fiery reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows, Silas was still soaked in frothy sweat. He was parched, dehydrated by his body’s natural cooling method. He wanted water, but panic had not set in— yet. Instead he savored the burn inside and out.

She was the nurse that seemed to appear from nowhere.

She approached him, little hesitation in her step. Could mirages talk? This one was talking, and Silas tried to remember if he’d ever been prey to auditory hallucinations. He hadn’t, though he’d once known a gal....

‘What are you doing here?’

He blinked to clear his mind, and the perspiration from his eyes. The sun illuminated her while keeping him a silhouette until she neared. Her coat was darker than the sand, such was the sweat’s darkening effect. She was fair, a pretty maiden. Clearly she was no damsel in distress from the way she carried herself. (Not that he would have saved her, unless perhaps to obtain a favor owed.)

”An excellent question. I am here because I choose to be.” A smirk played at the corners of his lips; he was feeling ornery. ”Who are you to question that? You are as much a stranger in this encounter as I am.” A local, perhaps. Her confidence in the vast desert and assertiveness in questioning him led him to believe as much. But he could have a little fun being difficult, couldn’t he.

@Bexley

[Bexley]

BEXLEY BRIAR

my carnivore heart comes out after dark -

---

Against the darkening blue sky, Bexley stands firm and stubborn, and she does not bother hiding the suspicion that glimmers like white-light in her blue eyes. The stranger brings with him the smell of something smoky and acidic - something disagreeable and eerie - and the Regent’s lip curls slightly as she inhales it, though it would be imperceptible through the smoggy, heat-stained distance between them. She does not welcome him. She does not smile. Friendliness has not seemed appealing to her in quite a while, and even less so now that she carries a third the weight of the Day Court’s future on her slender shoulders.

The man approaches, and Bexley leans forward slightly to look him over with more sharpness. Something like surprise overtakes her. Are those scales, glittering light-green like a mask across his face and neck? He’s built light and limber, long-legged for speed just like she is, and yet long hair marks his white ankles and flows behind him, the draft-feather she associates with a much bulkier horse. Well - strange indeed. And when he speaks, she doesn’t find him any less strange.

A stranger to you, but not to this Court. Her voice is slightly amused but mostly bitter, venom leaching out from under her tongue. Bex’s white tail snaps irritatedly against her back legs. The sun still glimmers wetly overhead, and against the pink sky she is warm and dark, flickering with suspicion, gaze narrowed as she watches him and thick lashes lowered. Impudent of him to assume he has any power over her - that they are even on the same playing field.

Bexley continues, drawling, Are you normally this entitled, or are the stars just in alignment tonight?

---

@silas <3  

[Booker]

The desert was all too familiar territory for Booker. The heat of the desert had been his companion since his days as a foal. He wondered about other lands, with trees and lush pastures. What would they be like?

He supposed he would find out.

He saw the mare first. She was talking to someone, swishing her tail. Irritation? Or concern?

The other didn't look like much. Some hot-to-trot stallion who didn't carry himself like a Day. More like a soft-footed foal pretending to be a stallion, dancing on sand hot enough to melt glass because his feet weren't hard enough yet.

"I am here because I choose to be.” A smirk. ”Who are you to question that? You are as much a stranger in this encounter as I am.”

Booker crested a dune behind Bexley, glaring at the stranger.

"She's a Day, boy. And this is the Day's territory. Maybe you haven't heard of the torrents of blood our warriors swam through just for the chance to rip out more throats in the war? Because you either haven't, and I'll be happy to show you, or you have, and come in here bragging like your mama shit in your skull to give you better brains."

Ears pinned, he locked eyes with Silas.

"If the next words out of your mouth aren't 'sorry, miss, my name is ...', I'm gonna spatter some shit across the sand by kicking you in the head."

@Silas
@Bexley

[Silas]

She was only slightly amused by his comments. He supposed he should be thankful for that small bit, but honestly her amusement was unimportant to him. Entitled? Yes, he supposed he was entitled. He’d gotten this far with the world decidedly against him. Clearly it was his time due for good fortune. His time, plus, had he not earned it by surviving thus far?

He opened his mouth to reply, but some other local appeared like a flash. Perhaps the blazing sun had simply blinded him to the other stallion’s sudden appearance. Silas remained silent as a heap of words fell from the other man’s mouth, and a reprimand and threat soon followed.

“‘A Day’?” He sneered. ”What a stupid thing to call yourself.” Day’s territory.... Well that at least was some new and useful information. The bragging was unimpressive, but Silas found himself chuckling at the insult. ”That’s not too bad.... Should I be offended?”

He glanced back at the mare, then to the older stallion. At least the mare had some good looks, and a rather even temperament all things considered. The stallion, however.... ”Threaten all you want. I’m not the one who feels my masculinity so challenged, nor the need to hide behind.. the ‘miss.’” Silas’s words were dripping with disdain, but at the end he winked at the palomino. He couldn’t care less what the stallion threatened him with nor tried to pull. It was a bunch of strutting for the sake of a woman’s affections.

@Bexley @Booker

[Bexley]

BEXLEY BRIAR

my carnivore heart comes out after dark -

---

Bexley’s talked with men enough to know that one like this - overseer, obnoxiously confident, smart in mouth but perhaps not in mind - are a dime a dozen, nothing to get worked up about. But for the dry half-smirk on her lips and the quirk of one gold brow, she disregards his impudence almost completely. A dime a dozen, the regent reminds herself, and is only startled from her disregard by the sound of someone coming up the slope behind her.

Of course, another man. Bexley has to bite back her annoyance. For once, just once, couldn’t she be joined by someone nice, some other pale-haired girl, someone more tactician than warrior?

She glances over the new arrival with a look of estimation, as if he’s nothing more than a piece of meat, and he very well might be if he doesn’t make himself useful very soon. He’s shorter than she is but seemingly much stronger, heavy-set, desert-weary, painted in absolute monochrome, and when he speaks she can’t help raising a brow, both surprised and amused by him jumping to her defense. They’ve both underestimated her fierceness - disregarded the possibility that of all three of them, Bexley may very well have shattered the most bones. She’s absolutely broken the most hearts.

"You exhaust me." The statement is directed at Silas with casual disdain. "And you -" she turns over her shoulder to face Booker and fixes him with a cool, flint-eyed glare, the smile that crosses her lips faint and venomous. "The effort is appreciated, but I wouldn’t be Solterra’s regent if I couldn’t hold my own, so don’t worry about it." Her smile depends, finally flashing teeth.

"Now," Bex continues in a cool murmur, batting her lashes in mock-flirtation, "You’re both welcome to introduce yourselves and we can start from the top, or you can leave, immediately."

Subdued anger burbles in her chest, like rock liquified, but anyone would be hard to find it in an expression she’s spent months learning to carefully mute.

---

@silas <3  

[Booker]

It had been a while since Booker had felt anything besides the boredom and ennui of depression, and the sweet rush of rage felt liberating. This horny slip of a stallion had managed to insult his loyalty to Day, his competence, and reduced him to a randy loser trying to show off for a mare.
Booker glanced at Bex, too angry to be embarrassed to suddenly realize it was the regent. He charged Silas.
Bulling into the bastard and knocking him off his feet was immensely satisfying. They fenced for a moment, Booker shoving Silas to one side before tearing across his ribs with a vicious bite.
"Pardon me, Lady Regent," Booker said, panting. "But if you let little shits like this mock the court, you let them mock the horses that died so you could be regent. Good horses I saw die. Frankly if you're capable of doin' this yourself you shouldn't have let me beat you to the punch.
"Now," he said, glaring up at Silas. "You gonna apologize, or do I need to drag you to the Colosseum? Kick your ass in front of hundreds of horses 'stead of just the Lady Regent?"

@Bexley
@SILAS

[Silas]

He couldn't help but admire the disdain she held for him, and the irritation she had at the stranger for being so patronizing. "Regent." She said. He didn't know where that put her in the scheme of things, but it seemed like a position of power. So, this wasn't just a local inhabitant, it was one of the local inhabitants. Start from the top or leave? He barely had a chance to think of an answer before the guard dog was barking at the end of its chain.

The insulted stallion was charging at him with barely a glance at the regent. Silas should have been better prepared for the attack. Perhaps it was pure surprise that kept him still, vulnerable to the body slam. Air rushed out of his lungs as he stumbled backwards, hooves sluggish in the thick sand. A snarl more like a wolf's left his lips and he reached forward with bared fangs to snap at the face of the old fart. He missed narrowly. It took another moment but Silas regained his balance and clashed with shorter stallion, meeting anger with ferocity and a devil-may-care attitude.

Teeth snapped and Silas was tempted to show the warrior what he really thought. But he remained rather civil in their squabble, avoiding slashing hooves or butting the painted horse with his horns. He did not have the advantage of weight and bulk, and was shoved to the side. Before he could steady himself, teeth slashed along his ribcage. Silas's nostrils flared and he felt his blood burning in his veins, dripping along the new wound in his pale side.

He began giggling, and was ready to start the battle for real, but Booker drew back, panting from exertion. Silas's giggles continued, his eyes lit up in glee. "You'll have to let me repay you for that sometime." He couldn't believe what he was hearing from the stallion, and his complete condescension and insolence toward someone that was clearly his superior. The giggles disappeared as Silas barked out a laugh.

"A regent - whatever that is - would know better than to be so easily offended by a complete stranger. And then you embarrass her by scolding her?" He tutted and shook his head, adrenaline pumped steadily through him. "I have no intention of apologizing to anyone, nor do I feel inclined to let a little testosterone-pumping has-been 'drag me' anywhere." He rolled his eyes at the stallion, and wondered if he'd get attacked again. He turned his gaze to 'Lady Regent.'

"I am Silas, but you seem to have forgotten to introduce yourself. I certainly hope that there are more residents like you than him." This time, no glance was spared.

@Bexley @Booker

[Bexley]

BEXLEY BRIAR

my carnivore heart comes out after dark -

---

The longer she stands there, the deeper and nastier the anger in Bexley’s chest festers, until it is its own kind of rot all the way through her body. Green and black and everything wretched in between. Steaming in the desert, she stands poised and lion-fierce on the dunes and watches with a heated kind of disdain from where her feet are planted in the sand, shoulders squared in preparation - but no amount of watching and waiting can stifle the surprise that slams across her face as she watches Booker spring forward.

Some part of her wants to say stop or what are you doing or Holy Solis, get off him: but then again they are a group of warriors, and in Solterra there is little law but for that carved from bone and blood. As much as she feels the need to shove her way in and break them apart, she knows she’d be interrupting the natural order of the immortal desert. So she swallows the protest and watches with a kind of incredulous anger that sets every hair on her neck to prickling as Silas goes crashing into the sand with all the grace of a seagull swallowed by a tsunami.

And then, mercifully, it’s over.

Are you done? Bexley snarls as they finally break apart. Disdain laces her voice like venom laces the fangs of a snake, so potent it burns in those blue eyes before fading the next moment to a practiced chill. She feels strangely powerless. Like there’s little she can do here but what she already has, nothing but a name and a pretty, vicious smile - but no one could ever tell just by looking. And thank the Gods for that. It seems far past the point for introductions, but I'm Bexley. Pleasure to meet you. There's no way the ice in her voice could ever be sincere. And yes, Silas, most of us are a bit more civilized. At least in the city center.[b]

She flicks a glance of dry discontent at Booker, piercing him with those blue eyes for a long moment. [b]Feel free to stay here and rip each other apart - law of the desert is the only one to use all the way out here - but I won’t lead you back if you don’t follow me now.

With a latent, stony kind of smile, she flattens her gaze and turns away.

---

@silas @booker<3