my siren song; [FALLEN/OPEN]

[♥--Tilly]

Wanderlust had gripped her soul early that daybreak, and after training was concluded she had set about to satisfy it. Ivory spindles carried her across the realm with unforeseen haste, albeit her gait a slight jarring, towards where she predicted the ocean to be. Having never seen it herself, she left it to her nares to carry her towards the aroma of saltwater which stung the hairs as she drew closer – a peculiar, new scent that tickled its way through her memories. It was a drier day for the springtime, the air a crisp bonnet blue and a smile danced across her labrums as her threads flirted with the gales in her passing.

In due time, she arrived at a sandy cliff; skirting to a halt and sending sand spraying all around her. It was then that her audits pricked forward, tilting towards the sound of the breaks upon the shore below. A grin gripped her more fully and she sidled her way towards the edge, peering down at the blue depths below. A shore lay there, grass and sand mingling in a sweet harmony – calling to the young flicka in their own siren songs. ‘Come play with us, my dear!’ They seemed to cry, and Frigga would heed their demands.

Slender her limbs carried her down the curve of the cliff and into the shadow of it, where the long, blue grass tickled her crest and her teal visionaries became overwhelmed with sensation. The wind spurred on the salty scent, wrapping its strange warmth around her and causing the blades to dance in its wake. Frigga’s attention turned to the water, and she slowly crept towards the waves as their peaks washed ashore – unyielding to her finite presence, as they always were and always would be to the lives that came and went. Flints buried themselves in minute indentions they left upon the impressionable ground, the only trace aside from her scent she would leave upon these lands.

The water rushed to her and she stood in anticipation as it crashed down upon her limbs, it was anti-climactic considering how the filly had braced herself for a much rough meeting. It fell upon her with a gentle thrust and then ebbed away once more; only in its departure did she feel the chill of the springtime air as the breeze mingled with her wet hairs. Frigga stepped away from the waves then, moving into the soft embrace of the grass.

Pillars folded beneath her and rather ungracefully she piled herself into the blades, teeth gripping them briefly and nibbling upon their tall leaves before abandoning it altogether. Her dial was held high atop her sinewy nape, peering out to the horizon as far as she could see – watching the waves as they rose and fell, watching the ebb and flow of the marine itself. Frigga admired its power, but her mind weighed in, what war was it fighting? What was it trying to drown at the shoreline? Naïve foal-like stories leapt in her mind, playing upon her youth and inventing armies and foes and plotlines. Perhaps the land had stolen the ocean’s princess or its powers? Perhaps they had been fighting for so long they could not remember why it began? Presumably, it was a tale as old as time itself.

By the time she came to the conclusion, her skull had fallen amongst the blades and sand – and her ribcage had slowed to only tiny indications of her lifeline. Slowly and gently, the young vixen drifted away from consciousness and off into the sea of dreams. A smile hovering upon her lips as the dreams danced through her mind.

words: 611 tagged: Fallen/Brutus; Open muse: Good.

^{by ♛befera background image: harold.lloyd}

[fallen]

B L O O D is spilt while holding keys to the throne.
Born again but it's too late to A T O N E.
B R U T U S
No M E R C Y from the edge of the blade.
Dare escape and learn the price to be P A I D.

He was a machine. Efficient, silent, and dangerous. The sleek ebony elder moved like a young teen, his body conditioned to trek long miles without fatigue. His thick, heavy head was held even to his shoulder’s his nares taking in the musk of many assassins and killers. Soulless emerald eyes watched from a great distance, looking into the lands of Reach as he had heard. His objective was to join The Syndicate, or join cocytus. He was leaning more to the later but he continued to watch this desert like place. BEfore the sun had broke the night sky, a filly came bonding. He noticed that many trained constantly and thats what he assumed the golden ess was doing. He snorted at that moment, and watched as she left the lands. Brutus followed the babe, his distance far enough that she wouldn't notice him but close enough that he could smell her. His eyes narrowed at her youth, so happy and full of wonder. Brutus felt a draw to the babe, but for what reason he didn't know.

The bright sun began to beat harshly on his back, sweat forming on his scarred hide. He stood in a patch of shade behind the tree line and watched as the girl tore off for the shore. Brutus scowled as she looked amazed. The black beast was ready to turn, she was of no use to him. But as he blinked, and took a last look something shimmered on the horizon. The beasts jaws ground against one another, and he could feel the strong gaze of his fallen brother. His ears flattened, and he saw a motion near the filly as she bounded down the cliff... "Even in death, you annoy me." Brutus muttered. He huffed and stepped into the light. He moved slowly, his large plates sinking into the soft turf. He stood like a shadow, foreboding and dark as he watched her play among herself before drifting into what seemed like sleep. The brute made his descent then, the soft sand clinging to his thick feathers and sticky legs. HE approached the filly, no hesitance in his step. He looked down at her, his massive head nearly the size of her body it seemed. HE snorted, hot air thrown in her face in an attempt to wake her. He was in no mood to wait and so he shoved his muzzle against her barrel, nearly burrying the child in the cool sand. "You, child. Wake up." His harsh voice was rough, and hard on the ears. There was nothing charming about this stallion, in the least.

"SPEECH"

[♥--Tilly]

The long forgotten heroine of the land’s great perilous war roamed alongside her country, long tresses caught in the winds alongside her cares. The terrain had won the Great War; no longer would they fret over drowning or watching their empire tumble under the murky swallow of water. The ocean would never win, and it had been Frigga who had saved the dry lands from their certain extinction. It had been a long battle, but they had driven the foamy depths of the ocean back – halting their endless attempts at siege. Another soul entered her dream, a smart looking brute and Frigga’s fluttery heart seemed to cry out to him. ‘Dearest Frigga,’ Sounded the handsome, singsong of a dream, ‘We have won the war, oh we have won the war!’ But his bright grin quickly turned to a grimace, and his jaw tightened as he strode closer. ‘We – the ocean – have won the war.’ Then the brute turned to water, pooling around her flints rising quickly and waves were all around her lanky figure. Then she was ripped from the oddity that was her dream, the shadowy fingers of reality pulling across her and pulling her fearfully towards consciousness.

The whitecaps were coming! They were pouring over her, tossing her out of her peaceful slumber – awakening her to their world of violent blue. They had pushed her deep into the shore and she was drowning she swore it, but then as her nares pulled in clean oxygen and her icy visionaries awoke to the skull of a massive beast looming over her acute awareness washed over her alongside the dry air. Grating baritones slipped across her, and she scrambled to her flints narrowing her optics at the monstrous being before her. Her heart pounded against her chest and her breath came in astounded gasps, Frigga had never been truly caught off-guard and defenseless than in this moment. ‘Foolish girl,’ She scolded herself, ‘This could cost you your future and your family's future.’ Mentally, she scolded herself before pulling away from her thoughts and focusing on the task before her – the rather golem-like task that is.

Audits pinned back against her skull, burying themselves in her short tresses – a look of menace playing across her face. A much different appearance than that of her foal-ish fancy of yesteryear, and she gathered herself quickly. Standing squarely the filly took up a stance of fearlessness and presented such a front, visionaries glinting with a cold edge – survival ringing all throughout her. Her wits gathered about her, breathing slowed and her mind began to race through scenarios instead. “What do you want with me?” Came her voice, the edge of awareness ringing clear as a bell through her lyrics, a warning to the brute.

Gold flecked visionaries withheld him though, and she seemed to soften slightly as she looked over the old beast. The brute was of gargantuan size, and he bore scars and signs of age and trial. A certain of air of being haunted seemed to gather around him, and Frigga was more intrigued than spooked by his presence. Something seemed to connect the two of them. There was no malice in his gaze, and if he had wanted to hurt her it was likely he would not have awoken her at all. Frigga relaxed a fraction, lessening the snarl and lifting her dial high atop her slender nape. Audits tilted forward, searching for more clues into this mysterious stranger’s appearance here.

words: 580 tagged: Fallen/Brutus; Open muse: Good.

^{by ♛befera background image: harold.lloyd}