Restlessness was not foreign to the dappled mare. She had been restless when she had been studying in the Sage’s Temple and she had been restless every day since she had arrived in Novus. There always seemed to be something more waiting for her, this air of ‘other’ that was just around the next bend, in the next tome, in the next interaction. While her meeting and subsequent friendships with both Aeon and Veil Nebula had become blessings in her life, Torielle still felt incomplete.
She had been attributing this dissatisfaction to the lack of her goddess, Gaia. The would-be sage had heard nothing from her deity since her strange and sudden relocation to these lands, and it pulled heavy on her heart to realize that she had grown accustomed to no longer receiving answers to her prayers. Her whole life had been focused on obtaining knowledge, devoting her existence to further and understanding the will of her goddess. Without her, the mare felt empty. The void that had been left in her chest held a perpetual ache, one that she was fairly sure would never be remedied.
The invitation to the coming Spring festival had been one of the only things to lift her spirits. It had been an age since she had indulged in such activities, and from the sounds of it, the events would be very much like those of her home. She had given up the traditions of her Mother Tribe in favor of Gaia’s wisdom. It was seen as a noble sacrifice, and she had been honoured for it, blessed by every elder and gifted with well-wishes and luck by many before her journey had begun all those years ago. She would be lying if she said that she had not missed the bonfires, the dances, the story-telling, the exchange of wares. The Sages had disdain for such earthly things, material possessions, things that could ground someone so deep that they could not lift themselves to Gaia’s greatness.
Torielle had never given in to such sentiments. How could revelry, joy and love for one another, for your tribe, be something to keep you from finding grace? It had never made sense to her, and that line of thought, as well as many others, had put a rift between the mare and her mentors.
Now that she was in Novus, so very far from those influences, the prospect of enjoying these comforts warmed her greatly. It was a pleasant surprise to see that her new ‘home’ of Delumine would be hosting the event, and she couldn’t help herself from wanting to familiarize herself with the location.
While blankets of white still covered the ground, it was nearing the end of the cold season, and several patches of green earth were beginning to peek through the divots in the snow. The open meadow provided an excellent place to stage a gathering as grand as the one promised, and while the woman walked the terrain, the bells woven between her antlers jingled pleasantly, the warmth of the midday sun staving off any chill that may be seeking to grip her with the last vestiges of winter.
The warm air embracing his sides was a welcome sensation. He felt as though he was thawing from the frost. His dark coat and scattering of minerals absorbed the sunshine, sunning his body. This grassland was beautiful, richer than anything he’d ever seen. Even covered mostly in a layer of the dastardly white frozen hell, he could see the possibilities underneath. So full of life and potential. It seemed this attracted many equines and their scents danced into his nostrils.
His tribe would only dream of such fertile lands. How many could he have supported if this meadow was available to the desert tribe? Could his overthrowing had been prevented with more nutrition available to the starving nation. Like the sands of his homeland shifted, nothing could truely be predicted. The women of this land seemed exotic and otherworldly.
He watched her from a distance, she was seemingly lost in thought. She had horns upon her head. He was unsure if they were simply attached as fashion or if they were grown from her skull. The beautiful shroud across her neck and the glittering silver bells, made him only more curious to get a closer look at the mysterious mare.
His own mother had worn a type of veil from time to time to help shield her from the whipping harsh sands. Or so he had been told, he only had limited time with his mother. She had given everything to ensure her son had flourished and survived. She was the only parent he had, that really gave something of themselves to him. His father had been a disgrace and in truth, was the beginning of the downfall that had doomed them both. Without his mother, he was incapable of making rational decisions. Realizing he had gotten himself lost in his own contemplative thoughts he pushed these to the back of his mind.
It took more effort to walk through the snow then on standard ground. It sank underneath his weight leaving hoofprints behind him. Unlike the sand when compressed it didn’t seem to slink around as much. It compacted solid and a path could be devised of it if desired. He aimed to close the distance between them. He wanted to meet her, to assess her, to add her to his bank of knowledge.
He arched his warlike neck, showing his strength and muscle. Deep mysterious blue eyes focused on her carefully. “Good Morning, I welcome the sunshine, and be-rid of this frozen hellscape.”he said with a deep warm chuckle.
Tents of every colour and size, banners waving lazily in the wind, blacksmiths and leatherworkers to one side, textiles and jewels at another, and in the center a large opening for dancing. The images of her home overlaid themselves easily onto this landscape, and the more potential she saw in the meadow, the more excited it made her. Perhaps she was building it all up too much in her mind. After all, she had no true knowledge of how Novus would run it’s festivals. She had only barely heard of the activities hosted by other courts, not having enough strength of mind or spirit to pursue them when they arose. Her homesickness, her restlessness, they painted the pictures she wanted to see, and for now, that comforted her, even if it was a false comfort.
A voice behind the mare stilled her movements, the tones rich and silky, her audits flicking back to take in the words spoken. She must have been too lost in her own thoughts to not have heard his approach upon the crust of ice. Torielle turned first her head, and at the sight of him, her body soon followed.
The size of him was greater than any stallion she had ever met. The studs that were born to her mountains had always been hardy folk, thicker and more full than the other tribes of her homeland. This creature was of another caliber, though. He stood near to double her height at the withers, or so it would seem. His stature was that of raw, hardened muscle, the texture of stone spread about his dark coat without any seeming rhyme or reason. The tell tale signs of Friesian heritage were present in the vague wave and curl of his locks, cropped short on his flank and pulled back on the crest of his neck. He was every bit the image of ‘stoic’, eyes a piercing blue, features crafted with a chisel into obsidian marble. If he had worn a sprawling rack atop his crown he could have been a vision of her father.
“Yes,” she agreed, rather startled, her eyes widening. “I’ll be glad for the warmer months. This winter has been far too harsh and long for my liking.” Torielle shifted her weight, unsettled at just how much her heart ached at the sight of this strange man.
Her tail flicked behind her, copper locks brushing at her sooty flanks, the jewels and coins that made their home at the base rustling with the movement. It took the woman a long moment before she realized that she was staring, and averted her gaze, casting it across the open field as she speaks, her words more steady this time.
“What brings you here, then?” She tried to keep her tone light, hoping that pleasant conversation would calm her nerves, and that more knowledge of this stallion would soothe her heart from the unexpected, and rather more lonely reminder of home.
He was unsure what the commotion was all about. The tents and colourful displays only further convinced him this land lived in lavish excess. He could smell scents that were oddly sweet and savory, mixed with that of coal and fire. There had been crafting experts in his homeland, but nothing of this grandior. Is this what the desert gods had wanted him to become? He couldn’t help but feel it was all unnecessary. Far more interesting was the woman before him. Her gaze drifted over him like a summer's breeze warming his frozen disposition.
He stepped closer to her, aiming to cut off the chilly breeze that had been whipping their sides. Ah she too was a creature of warmth and sunshine. It was confirmed by her comments about the freezing nature of this season. It was reassuring to him to hear that this season would end, and that he hadn’t truly wandered into a permanently frozen land. It would have been just his fate to wander from hot desert to a cold desert.
Why was he here. That was a good question that had many answers. It was a simple question with a loaded answer. With a soft sigh he stepped even closer, he was not in the mood to wear out his already hoarse voice in a long winded story. “I am here because of the collapse of my tribe. I am here to answer the call of the desert gods. I am here to seek a new way of life, of living and loving.” He spoke softly, his voice rasping with the extended sentences.
The drive within the stallion was tenacious, but his overall direction and goals were somewhat marred by lack of knowledge and connections. He knew within his gut he needed to rebuild a tribe to survive, that this was what he was truly cut out for. He would need family, connections and an army to ensure their safety.
Their eyes were similar in colour, hers felt deeper almost. Certainly warmer. “What brings you here?” he said with a soft chuckle realizing the heavy doom and gloom he had replied with. Standing closer to her like this felt better, it felt natural. He felt more secure in the sense that he could be sure she was within reach. He didn’t know this mare, but he knew by the roaring within him that he needed to get to know her.
The mare watched as he moved his girth to block the breeze that ran across the open field, shielding her with his body in the process. A sigh parted her sooty lips and she relaxed slightly, not having realized how cold it had been. “Thank you,” she murmured, ears pricked forward to catch his response to her query.
She cocked her head, the jewels that nestled in her mane and wove through her antlers clanging against each other with the movement. Her expression was one of mild confusion, before one painted brow lifted. He spoke many words without giving much information at all, though she wasn’t sure she blamed him. One did not often reveal their true nature to strangers, even if he had chosen to answer her question in a more broad manner. She got the sense that he was a direct man, and though his sentences were curt, they were not rude, exactly.
“That is quite a reason,” the mare responded. “Though I believe the deserts of this land are in quite the opposite direction,” she mused, her tone light.
At his own questioning she cast her gaze out over the empty meadow, his approach having shattered her imagination. It felt colder, now, without her visions of home to comfort her, though the sun still stroked her spine as Solis did his best to warm her. Torielle breathed a heavy sigh, the cold air filling her dappled chest and calling ice to her veins. She stepped closer to the mountain of a stallion, enjoying the warmth that radiated from him and the shelter he provided from another stiff breeze as it moved across the snow.
“Curiosity,” she finally answered, returning her azure pools to his own. “There’s tell of a festival to be held here once the spring takes hold, and I had wanted to see the grounds.” Her audits swiveled listening to the distant call of winter birds.
“Like you, I have been drawn to these lands, and I am…” She searched for the right term, wondering how much she should tell this strange beast who reminded her of home, but she knew to be anything but. “Unfamiliar with them. I had thought it best to survey them before the festivities transformed them.”
Before reality did not meet the expectation of fantasy. Before she was struck again with how much Novus was not like her beloved Amayal. Before she would have to face the truth that she would never dance with the traditions of her people, that friends and family of her former life were lost to her forever. She made an effort to hide the sorrow brewing in her chest by motioning to the far edge of the clearing.
“Should we move to a more sheltered location? I’m afraid my bones are not accustomed to standing around in the cold like this.” She chuckled. “I’m from a tribe of travelers and mountaineers, but the openness of this place seems to encourage the cold far more than the trees.”
He smirked at her teasing about a desert being in another direction.“My dear, I would be quite happy for a break from the grit of sand.” The sand wore down everything it surrounded. It changed the face of rocks, it the hide of creatures. It was the only true never ending aspect of the desert. When life perishes in the desert, it returns to the sand. Consumed by the ever moving grains, forever forming part of the landscape. It was where his mother was, It was where his father was. He had escaped that fate, for now.
A festival. The grandeurs only continued to grow. They lived in such frivolous excess. “What is the purpose of a festival?” he asked, squinting slightly. Their rituals and nights of celebration were limited to that of the gods. It felt disingenuous to be celebrating their own existence. But, maybe he was mistaken, he would wait and see what the mare's response would be. It wasn’t jealousy that spiked and irritated his skin at the way they lived, but it was at their cluelessness of their own privilege.
When she asked to seek shelter, it caused the grumbling interest to stir further within him. This mare had a heritage that matched his own well. She would have been raised likely not too all differently from his own. They were more compatible then he ever would have imagined by approaching her in the field. Maybe, it wasn’t a where, but a who - that the desert gods had wanted him to seek. Maybe, just maybe it was with this woman he was to rebuild their kind.
“Yes, let’s go to the dense trees.” He stepped closer aiming to let his side brush against her own. Smooth and rough, a different texture to most. Smooth silky midnight pelt, with spatterings of minerals. Their size difference was more appreciable this close. This close she would be able to feel and further appreciate his warmth. He would protect her. He needed to keep this woman, he could feel it in his bones.
His muzzle reached towards her own to take in her scent. “I am Jarek. You are truly what I have been searching for. You are a blessing from the desert gods. We will have a future together, beyond what the gods could even dream of.” It was a promise to himself, to her and the gods - he would keep it.
Apart from the stallion’s massive girth and strange semi-stoney hide, his diction was strange. It gave the mare pause, her audits twitching, trying to decipher where he would have developed his sense of language. It was both incredibly forthright and muddled. The emphasis that he placed on certain things, the dense trees (although Torielle wouldn’t have considered the outermost edge of the Viride to be dense at all), his clipped and overly broad response to her first inquiry. It seemed the strange man was very literal. The dusky mare made a mental note of this, as her own speech patterns were more fluid, fantastical. This disparity might cause them some confusion if she wasn’t careful.
For now, it provided an interesting spice to the conversation. A mindfulness that she hadn’t practiced in a long time. That awareness branched out beyond her words and to the placement of her body in relation to his own. When he stepped closer to her, initiating their walk, he cared not for the gentlemanly concept of space. On one hand she was grateful for the warmth and subsequent shield from the cool winds that whipped around the meadow, with the other it spoke to his lack of boundaries, though if it was simply a mismanagement of his size or something more she could not rightfully say.
Torielle was startled when she saw the darkness of his muzzle reach towards her, intending to take in her scent. She pulled back suddenly, the bells woven between the branches of her antlers crying a chorus of frazzled nerves. She flicked her copper banner in annoyance. Did this stallion have no manners?
He provided his name at least before the next bizarre set of words fell from his lips. The mare’s audits flattened against her skull as she balked. “What on earth? Excuse me?”she breathed, incredulous, her mind whirring.
He’d been searching for her? She was a gift from the gods? A future? Suddenly his towering height morphed from genial and protective to looming and malicious. His darkness overwhelmed her, and there was a heartbeat where she realized that if she chose to bolt his stride may make up the difference for her speed. Frustration and anger bubbled up in her, an emotion she did not indulge in often or lightly.
She snorted, stamping one hoof to the solid winter ground, squaring herself up to him, a fire burning in her belly. “The audacity,” the mare retorted. “Who do you believe you are, Jarek,” she spat the name like one does a distasteful morsel from their mouths. “Stranger in a strange land, to approach a lone woman and encroach upon her space and spout fortunes of gods unheard and claim to have been seeking her like a gift to be snatched up or a whore to be bought?”
Though the midnight stallion had every bit of height and muscle on her, Torielle had been holding back a significant amount of rage. Rage she had refused to acknowledge, and this boldness, this rudeness had provided her just the excuse she needed to relieve the pressure. Her body quaked as the violence rolled through her blood, causing her jewels to tremble against her red-hot skin.
“I’ll have you know that I have known a thousand gods in a thousand lives. I have worshiped at the altars of beings you could only dream of. I have walked the Astral Planes time and time again, and in all of my lifetime I have never met another being so brash, so assuming and so… so…” the mare struggled, her words tumbling from her lips like a frothing river. “ Arrogant! If all of your people have customs as rude as yours, I’m not sure it’s a wonder why you are wandering foreign lands.”
Finally the mare turned her head, huffing, muttering, her anger nearly spent. “If you intend to make it far, might I suggest you develope some manners.” Completely disregarding that her tirade had excluded her own name. While his actions had been unexpected, rude, even, there was still the possibility her fire had been misplaced. She was too stubborn to acknowledge that, though. How dare this man who looked too much like her father say such things to her?
It was suddenly very apparent that he had misspoken. Or at the very least been too blunt and forwards with his desires. The dream that had built within his mind quickly shattered. It was replaced with venom and hatred. He had very much stirred the hornet's nest within the mare. She had the desert temperament raging within her. It was no wonder the gods had led him this way, seemingly urging him to check on this very mare. It only further convinced him that she was the orchid he required.
He took a step back, dipping his crown. He did not interrupt her tirade of speech. He would give her the respect to finish her thoughts. To hear the full extent of her anger and passion. Hearing her direction to develop manners he snorted softly then replied “My apologies, I would never snatch nor expect you to imminently believe my experiences. I was overcome with an epiphany on seeing you.” he sighed softly. “It has been a very long time since I have had close social interactions, you are correct. Where are my manners.” His words were sincere and laced with emotion. He had just made everything worse with his ineptitude.
This was a lesson, he would need to learn to control how he expresses the overwhelming prophecy he felt within. Perhaps this was their game all along? That the desert gods aimed to smite him, to teach him a lesson. But then they had led him all this way, then seemingly directed his fate to meet the unnamed mare. He felt an overwhelming bubble rise within him, that he needed to explain to her how precious she was to completing the prophecies that had been granted to him.
“Your experiences with astral planes and gods further convinces me we are fated to meet. I have seen it in the flickering lights and in the assembly of coals when the fire dies. I can only imagine what you have experienced.” He restrained himself from saying further, realizing he’d already strained her perception of him. He wished he could look into her eyes and simply show her what he felt and had seen.
The desert gods had often embraced fated meetings, that these were the couplings that resulted in skilled and blessed children. That was what was said about himself, until the day his birth returned his mother to the sands. There were whispers and rumors of a punishment for his mother for one deed or another. But in Jarek’s eyes his mother was pure and it was his fathers vile nature that corrupted their existence.
The depth of his apologies fell on deaf ears, the mare too consumed by her own assumptive emotions. Her audits were pinned back against her skull, the sweep of her tail flicking behind her not unlike an annoyed cat. She eyed him in her periphery as he bowed, a sign of remorse and respect. The anger wavered for just a moment. Maybe she had been too harsh. Is this the kind of turmoil the Sages had once tried to warn her against? Had her halted studies, her sparse meditations, resulted in this explosive display?
Shame rolled over her like a crashing wave and her stance relaxed some, her ears pulling to attention as she turned to look at him, silver quivering through her antlers and across her body. An apology rested on the tip of her tongue when he continued to speak.
Torielle wrestled with a response to him. While he had apologized as deeply as she was sure that he was capable, he again presented the information that they were somehow fated. While the concept was anything but foreign to her, the manner in which he had approached her left her feeling vulnerable in a way she did not appreciate. Had Gaia truly abandoned her to the favour of other gods? The last two years of aching void had been a testament to that thought. This stallion, this Jarek sure seemed to think that she was chosen by his desert deities for some kind of greatness.
While she couldn’t deny there was a not insignificant part of her that appealed to, she was incredibly wary. Who would snub their nose at a chance for great change, to belong to something more than them? For some it would equal power, and while that was not something that called to the mare, the idea of being a source for others, a fount of knowledge, of peace, of better living… She shook her head in a crude attempt to clear the images from her mind. Children’s beliefs. One did not simply accept strange prophecies at face value these days.
And yet, there was a certain synchronicity to the event. Her recent call to teach and nurture others, that he had come to her while she had been in a personal reverie of home. The most obvious, and most troubling similarity had to be his appearance, though. The stallion’s great height, his strength, the colour of his coat. If she had seen him less clearly, her heart would have leapt from her chest. Jarek really did look all too much like her father. Was that a sign, then? As she was reminiscing of home, this stallion would approach her and speak of great prophecies?
As she struggled with how to continue, the silence stretched between them. She was no longer angry with him, but wary, concerned. If this chance encounter had indeed been foretold to the brute, what did that mean for her? The implications were far too numerous and distressing for her to want to work through them here.
“If we truly are fated,” She said suddenly, the discomfort overwhelming now. She was too exposed, and too many things had been brought into question. “Then I am sure we are fated to meet again.”
The mare quickly turned on her heels, tossing her head over her shoulders. “Goodbye, Jarek; stranger and prophesizer.” The woman then went about her departure, heart pounding like a chorus of drums in her chest as she hoped that he would not follow her. She would need to think about this encounter, and all that it would mean, alone.
His heart thundered in its boney cage, he fought to keep a cool exterior. The anxiety and apprehension was only rising within him. How had it been that he was to stumble upon her in this fashion? What kind of torment did they have in plan for him. He felt like the wind had been sucked from his lungs, that he would never take another satisfying breath until she took one with him. He had never had such an overwhelming instinctual feeling on so many levels as he had in these moments.
“So it will be,” he replied softly to her speech, his voice was naturally hoarse so speaking softly took effort. “Go with safety, walker of the planes, until we meet again.” It would seem that he was watching his destiny walk away. Escaping his company. It had not unfolded anything like he had imagined. He did however not expect to meet her face to face in this manner. He didn’t flinch, he didn't move to follow her. He knew that if he was to have even the slightest chance he had to build her trust. Inside he ached and heaved, externally he dropped his head and picked at the grass beneath him.
His mind flipped in circles trying to make sense of what had just happened. It took all of his internal strength to not watch her walk away. He understood enough social interaction to know that would look…menacing. Sometimes he forgot his size, he forgot the way that it spoke before his words had a chance to make their meaning known. It felt colder without her presence. He had at times struggled to believe in previous touted fated lovers. But, this experience had shattered any doubt in his mind. Each moment before, had been building to this very day.
The cold and harsh trek had been worth it to have the truth revealed. It was his failure previously that had allowed him to arrive here. He had not had much chance to converse with others about the gods that they worshiped in these lands. He knew however that none were as primal and as deep as the connection he felt with the desert deities. Their forever changing faces and feelings swirled him in his dreams. He would keep his promise, there would be a future for them unlike any other.
image by:https://giphy.com/Allyouneediswall
02-06-2022, 08:59 AM - This post was last modified: 02-06-2022, 09:00 AM by Jarek
