It was not the first time that Jane had seen the sea. Indeed, when she was younger, too young to remember, the herd had spent a bit of time near an inlet. The older horses in the herd had talked of it sometimes in the voice that comes with childhood memories and nostalgia, and Jane had naught but a hazy image of blue with which to label the sea.
To remember that it had once been considered exciting to see the sea seems like a dream. Three months, now, had she passed along paths bridging the ocean. The first glimpse had filled her with awe; crashing waves that seemed inches away from slamming her into the rocks, and now she felt like it would never leave her. Her dreams were blue-toned, her nostrils calloused by salty air. She had never been more isolated, and although that was the point it rankled inside her and made her bitter.
She didn’t deserve this. Why couldn’t she have stayed home? Jane had said those same words to her mother, promised that she would never talk to handsome young colts ever again. She would focus on her studies, be a good filly. But her family’s patience was evidently shorter than she expected, and her pleas were met with stony disappointment from her mother. Every complaint, insult and compliment received the exact same reaction: a crinkling at the corner of the eyes, a furthering of distaste.
The day that Jane had met Hardison, the mare who would escort her, she came this close to running away before realising she had literally no defences for living as a lone horse in the wild. The day after, she had stood exhausted while Queen Marla and her parents discussed her future. It was decided that she should go by the coast, where it was less likely to come across any predators or antagonistic horses. At first it had sounded like a blessing to avoid the steep mountains that provided another route, but now she would do anything to avoid it.
Hardison was no easy companion, either. She was a draft mare, greying around the eyes, with a sharp tongue that any sensible horse would fear. Most of the time she watched the surroundings sternly, with a keenness for danger that had not yet saved Jane’s life. Indeed, it had been an incredibly eventless journey.
“How long now?” Jane asked as they stepped down a ledge into the sand. Her hooves sank into the wet sand, still damp from the retreating tide. Her ear twitched back in the direction of the surf, half nervous and half apathetic.
Hardison gave a long suffering snort and drove her hooved harder into the sand, splattering a bit of wet muck onto Jane’s fetlock. “As long as it takes,” she finally said, her voice low and rasping.
“Are you even sure you know where we’re going? We may well just circle the whole continent and end up in the same place. Why not just go home, Hardy?”
Jane felt a smug little pang as Hardison’s ears pinned. “Don’t- I know these parts better than you know your own name, princess.”
“Then why don’t you know how far away we are!”
Hardison pulled up and turned her head. Her ears were flat against her head. “Because we passed the border long ago. Now it’s about getting you into safe hands.” A thrill went through Jane’s body. I am in a different place. I am somewhere new. Jane shut up after that.
A few nights passed by this beach, Hardison deciding that they would take a bit of time to recuperate. They were up on the slopes, where hardy shoots managed to split through the earth only to be eaten by the few starving creatures desperate enough to stay there. Jane joined, although a bit away from the imposing figure of her protector.
“Hardy?” The mare’s ears twitch and Jane finally sighs, “Fine, Hardison, can I go down on the shore to look at the seashells? The tide is going to be out for hours, and I imagine you’re getting tired of me.”
Hardison lifted her head. “You are a vain little thing, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. Now, please?”
Hardison appeared to stew over it in her head. She lifted her nose into the air, taking a scent for danger. Then her muscles loosened as she said, “Fine. But don’t even touch the water. Keep in the dry.”
Jane shot a thankful smile and descended the slope to the white-grey sand. It was certainly uncomfortable to return to the strong scent of brine and salt, but there was no way Hardison would let her go further inland. “Rotten old bitch,” Jane muttered, and lowered her head to the shells that lined the strand. Most of them small and white as teeth, others the sweet pink of a blood vessel in the eye.
The sea whispered and roared at the same time, temptingly near. Blue carried from one side of her vision to the other, dark grey against the roan blue of the sky. The wind whipped around her head, threw her mane and tail behind her. The darkness of her coat against the white split up the beach around her, save for the threads of gold that were hardly gold in the fading light of dusk.
Unaware of the others for the moment, Willoughby wandered along the beach. She, as per usual, had her head in the clouds. Voices lifted from a distance away but she kept toward them, curious and hoping for company. Sometimes she was bored. Sometimes she was lonely. Most of the time she was inquisitive. It would get her into trouble one day.
Peeking around a rocky crop, she spotted the form of a young lady. They were nosing along the sand, looking at the pretty shells littered around the beach. Willoughby would note a second smell upon the wind, much older than both girls, and resisted approaching the older one. She was closer to the mare anyway.
"Hello" she would say, not a burst but a gentle drift. She pinned her wings against her sides as she walked a bit closer, stopping in case the mare was skittish. "looking for shells?"
The ocean called her name, it felt like. Not in an elegant way, but in a slow grating way. Jane turned her attention away from it, nosing at the husk of a shell. It was a soft blue, just like with everything, but it was far nicer to look at than anything else in the surroundings. Everything here reminded her of a callous; the brandished cliffs and the sand, perhaps once rugged cliffs themselves, reduced to nothing but dust. That was how things went, she supposed.
Deep in thought, she barely noticed movement further along on the beach. When it came closer, she threw her head up and stiffened her body. The figure came closer and Jane assessed- a filly, certainly her own age. The only other in the vicinity. Jane passed a glance up to the slopes where Hardison evidently hadn’t noticed that anything else was near.
Jane turned her head again, ear twitching backwards. It was a pegasus, shorter than Jane herself. She was evidently a pretty young thing, elegant and angular in body with a pair of light blue eyes.
Hardison wouldn’t notice, and there was no way this mare was a threat. Jane watched her slowly until the words came softly. Hello, looking for shells? Her voice was as sweet as her appearance, and she evidently kept her wings tight against her multicolour coat. “Uh…” Jane hadn’t talked to many of her own age, and social skills did tend to avoid her. “I suppose so, yes. Would you like to join me?” She tipped her head a little, inviting the mare closer.
The other would start, realizing her presence. They were calm though, and Willoughby kept her smile gentle. At last, an invite was given. She would only move closer when she was sure the other mare was okay with it. Her movement was fluid and relaxed, delicate yet purposeful. She dips her head in thanks.
“I would love to join you” she beams, dipping further to sniff along the sandy beach. “most don't have time to look for shells. They think it is quite childish - but I like finding different kinds. Especially the spiral ones. They have such lovely colors, no?” She giggles, lifting her skull to look at the earthen toned mare.
“she speaks”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
Jane watches the pegasus carefully, despite the certainty that this mare could do no harm to her even if she wished it. The figure carries with her a distinct gentleness and what Jane’s mother would have described as placid. She holds herself in a way that is certainly meant to keep Jane calm, and it would be offensive if it were not done so sweetly. Jane leans in the mare’s direction, cautiously trusting. She speaks and it sounds like the water trickling into the cups of seashells, gentle. But some of these streams can appear so sweet one minute and tear you away in the next. People, Jane will need to learn, can be the same.
“I still feel a bit childish when I do it,” she confesses to the mare, and if she had the ability to blush she would do so. “But they’re so pretty. I like the pink ones best.” She looks back along the beach, all the colours smudged and blurred by the white-grey of the sand. “My name is Jane, by the way. It’s very nice to meet you.” It sounds rehearsed, she scolds herself in her head. But scripts are the way to get by without getting your head smashed in, she has heard others say. Her ear twitches. “What is your name?” Her coat gleams a little bit under the sea foam. When she was a child her mother told her stories of mermaids trapped in the sea, their coats the shadowed grey of wave crests. As mentioned, Jane is no maritime veteran, but yet she imagines the tips of ears in each wave that nears the shore. “Have you ever been to the seaside before? I apparently have, but I was so young that I can’t even think of it. And it was a much nicer beach than this one. Less…” Jane looks out towards the direction of bitter salt and sand, flaying their hides in a way that makes Jane turn her body against it. “Less bitey.”
She couldn't help but giggle. Willoughby laughed rarely, she snorted less rarely. It was the lighthearted giggles that escaped her. Endearing her to the innocence she did not play at, but rather embraced. No, she would never lift a hoof to hurt let alone scare. The other mare confessed she felt silly looking for them. That was the reason for the giggle.
“I suppose it is a matter of opinion” Willoughby replies to her “I think it is lovely that we take the time to look at items lesser than valuable ones. The same can be said for other equines - the important figures in our lives get more attention than the common folk. I find that rather sad.”
But; “I am bias - I like the pink ones too” she added with a grin.
Pink was her favorite color along with blue. Ironic due to the fact she was both those colors. “My name is Willoughby. Very nice to meet you, Jane” she smiles genuinely again. “I've seen some seas in my travels. Some have rocky shores, too rocky to walk unless you are careful. Others have rainbow sand...”
She trails off, her smile wistful. “Each one was different than the last. Terminus is just another unique one to me.”
“she speaks”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
The filly laughs at what Jane says, and she buoys between offense and fellow amusement. But there is nothing malicious at all about this fair figure, and it strikes Jane that she may be doing something right by the way of this person. The giggle is soft and maidenlike. Jane wishes she was maidenlike, sometimes. The mare speaks again, and Jane listens to each word. It occurs that this mare has probably seen more of the world in the past three months than Jane has in her entire life.
“I haven’t really thought about it. I think you’re right, though. I think strangers can change your life more than your own parents.” Jane smiles, “But aren’t all of us strangers at some point or other. Little things become big, big things small. It’s the way of things, I suppose.” She grimaces, “I’m trying too hard to sound smart, I think. I don’t really know many strangers at all.” Jane thinks it may not be right to speak of such things, but she will likely never see this mare beyond one small conversation.
Jane laughs a little at the mare’s confession to bias. “I can see why- I’ve yet to find anything brown in the world that’s pretty, but I assume there’s time. You’re lucky to look as you do- like a sunrise,” Jane doesn’t know if she’s doing this right. She’s only got experience with superiors and inferiors, never anyone on her level. “I’ve been travelling along the sea with my companion. She’s up there, grazing- don’t talk to her, she’s the grumpiest person I’ve ever seen. But she’s also kept me safe these past three months, so I am thankful for her.” She confesses this grudgingly. “She just doesn’t let me do anything.”
Terminus. “Is that where we are?” Jane asks, “I don’t know anything about where she takes me. I’m about as blind as if I lacked eyes entirely. Although, I swear sometimes Hardison wishes that I were blind. And also mute. Yeah.” She laughs a little, relaxing a bit around her fellow mare.
“Oh, do not worry” Willoughby breezes by with a grin “some strangers I have met in other lands, well... they say I am not smart. I do not put much stock into the word. It is an opinion, in the end. And you are very much entitled to it.”
The maiden hoped that was enough to make Jane relax. She certainly seemed more relaxed since they started talking, and that warmed her heart. Her eyes pulled into a thoughtful look, glancing away in her little world before looking back. “What about birds?” she goes on after a heart beat “there are many, many pretty brown birds around.”
Safety was raised though. Willoughby glances upward to the mare Jane spoke of. They were grazing and in their own world, so she did not approach. “Every person has value” she admits “even if you do not get along, they contribute their own way to the world.” That is what she chose to believe out of life. It would be hard to change her mind.
“This is Terminus Sea” she would go on “I do not know if it is the same name as this beach... But the land we're in is called Novus.”
“she speaks”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
Jane listens to Willoughby attentively, although one part of her attention is pulled in the direction of her carer. She really hopes that Hardison won’t notice. She will definitely blow this way out of proportion and then Jane will probably go another three months without seeing another soul. So Jane clings gently to this interaction and keeps her voice somewhat low. “I think you’re smart,” Jane smiles, “Those others don’t know what they’re talking about.”
It occurs to Jane that this interaction is exactly that which Willoughby has been describing. It is unlikely that the two of them will ever meet again, and if they do it will have been years. After this, Jane is to join the Day Court and although her interactions will now include those of her own age, it is going to have been Willoughby that gave her that step into that world. It was a breath of fresh air to be around Willoughby, as every added interaction only compounded the fact that Jane was probably safer than she had ever been.
“I have never seen any pretty birds,” Jane laughs. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m by no means insecure.” When she speaks of safety, Willoughby’s glance goes up the slopes to where Hardison is still eating. She will glance over soon, Jane thinks. She takes the job of Jane’s protector seriously. “I agree with you. Even though I annoy Hardison and she annoys me back, it would be hard for me to claim that she has no value. I know I’d probably be dead or worse without her.”
“Novus…” Jane chews the word. She knew that this was where she was heading. But it’s different to hear the word said by an inhabitant rather than a politician. In the words of the court it is chilled and lifeless. Not here. “I am going to the Day Court. I don’t even know anything about it except that I have a cousin there.”
“It's very kind of you to say” she smiles, though knowing it was not as simple as one compliment to change others' minds. Willoughby felt everyone was entitled to an opinion, even negative ones, and she found she did not care much about what others thought of her. It was how she felt about herself that was more worrying.
Yet the maiden would not touch on that subject so easily.
“There are sparrows - small and cute” she goes on with a wider smile, a grin. She likes birds. Their songs inspire her to do better singing. “and thrashers... and thrushes.” Many different variations of brown birds. From mighty falcons to small and cute ones like she said.
“Ah, so you are going to live with your cousin?” Day Court, Day Court... She'd remember to visit if Jane wanted her to.
“she speaks”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
