Liridon



IT CREEPS IN LIKE A THIEF {KADIR}

#1
Nomad - 28 years
Played by LixyLime

The dull sound of heavy and feathered steps are accompanied by the ever-familiar clinking of metal links colliding against one another as the beast walks through the night to nowhere in just another futile attempt to run from the shadows that followed relentlessly.

........."Fynn! Look what I made for you!", the young voice of a juvenile calls out as eager strides carry the growing lad through the cavern and into the chambers of the chimera male studying those books and scrolls as he has always done since the elders of the council allowed for him to begin his studies in alchemy magic so that he might one day prove his worth to the family and take a proud and respected place among the council themselves. Strange, nearly glowing eyes of pale silver turn from their ancient words to meet the radiant hazels of Kerrim. There is a warm smile upon pale lips as he appraises the growing youth slowly moving from the lankiness of colthood, muscle becoming thick and defined as his younger brother was molded by the hands of time to one day share the same robust and powerful stature as their father. Those same proud eyes then fall upon the chain Kerrim is carrying."You've been practicing, I see", the deepening tones of a younger Fynnic say then as he turned to face the black splash, a soft affection finding his features as his younger brother holds his work with a strong sense of pride those of the Sloan clan were renowned for.

It wasn't too long ago before this morning that Kerrim had been given his apprenticeship by the elders of the council, and it had been no sooner than the ending of the young lad's ceremony that he'd set to work with all the eagerness that Fynnic himself had started his studies at the black splash's age. The chimera was unsure who was prouder in that moment - Kerrim, their parents, or Fynnic."I have! And I want you to have the first thing I made", Kerrim says then, bobbing his head. A chuckle finds the young stallion of mismatched color. and he lowers his head for his younger brother, hardly missing the beckoning gesture. For the first time, the cold and heavy chain slips over his neck and settles around his withers. Lifting his neck, silvered eyes study the gift as it dangles there over his chest."This is very well-made, Kerrim. Are you sure you don't you want to keep it as a memento?", he asks his younger brother then, but the black splash simply grins widely as he shakes his head."I made it for you. After all, I'm only this good already because of what you've showed me", Kerrim replies before butting his head against Fynnic's shoulder in brotherly affection."I love you, brother"
.........

That had been the last time Fynnic had smiled, had felt so much love in his heart for his younger brother. The man shakes his thick neck suddenly, sabled tendrils flying wildly into the salty air around him as he chases the memory away from his mind. It is with this sudden movement at the chain clinks louder, the cold metal brushing against his skin as if to say 'you can't escape it'. He'd be damned if he didn't try. The alchemist couldn't count how many times he'd taken off the chain and left it on a rock or fallen long somewhere, determined to leave it behind like the past he tried so fiercely to forget. And yet, even after a small distance, the beast finds his obsidians heavier and heavier still, until he cannot take another step. The next thing he knows, the stallion is retracing his steps only to find that chain where he'd laid it down. No matter how much Fynnic wanted to forget everything... he just... couldn't. Whenever he would look at his reflection in the water and see the jagged scars over the mark of those he'd once loved left by the ones he'd once called family... whenever he felt the metal forged out of brotherly love over his shoulders... he was reminded of everything.

Before, it would make his heart twist and tighten in his powerful chest with such intensity that it would almost take away his breath. Before, the grief of his past would have him desperately wishing that it had been him who had died in the accident and not his brother.

Now, there is only bitterness and anger - or so he has managed to convince himself. Exhaling sharply through flared nostrils, twin harks pressing against his skull and, the alchemist pushes himself into a powerful trot, perhaps bringing each obsidian down a little harder against the earth than was needed as thick and chiseled muscle work in unison to carry the beast up the sand-and-stone covered hill rising up before him. Strange and nearly glowing silvered eyes look between the shadowed bodies of the trees that flank the trail he climbs, the crashing waves like thunder growing louder with every strong stride. He'd traveled along seemingly endless stretch of beach since sunrise, avoiding the foreign realm drenched in the scent of his own kind, until the landscape had changed into trees and tasteless vegetation toughened by the often unforgiving land upon which they grew. Now, the trees reveal a cove, the sun-bleached shore cradled by worn and wet stone walls - not too unlike those that he'd built within himself. Beyond the walls, he can hear the waves crowned in frothing foam rolling and crashing, tossing and wild. Yet, within the cove, the waves are small and gentle as they lap at the sand under-hoof. Most of all, it was quiet.

Fynnic is unable to see any others, and this is something that brings him a hollowed sense of peace. Only now does he look up at the heavens, a clear blue-black sky littered with countless glittering, silent stars stretching endlessly into the horizon. They are not alone tonight however, a full moon pouring sterling silver light upon this foreign kingdom, her ethereal light dancing upon the unsettled water, gleaming off the branches of the evergreens and down upon a world cast into the dead of night. He is still there upon the sands now, having moved to the shore and just out of the ocean's reach. For a small moment, he allows himself to feel nothing but the salty sea breeze as brushes against his flesh, tousling thick tendrils however it so desires while he merely exists amidst the quiet. He does not wonder where he was as many would. In the end, it didn't really matter. So long as it was even further from Brannis than the last place he'd been, he couldn't care less where it was his feathered and strong limbs dared to carry him. For years he has wandered aimlessly, secretly stumbling like a blind man as he led the purposeless life of a vagabond, belonging no where and having no where to call the harbor to his fiercely guarded soul.

Right now, nothing mattered. Right now, he just wanted to forget.



×|. F  Y  N  N  I  C .|×
I'M HEARING VOICES FROM THE SHADOWS INSIDE ME

#2
- 29
Played by Hermes
Many say, there is a face on the moon and it is a man. Tonight, as Kadir walks under the light of the silver goddess, his head tilted back to gaze up at the silent sentinel, he sees something different. Oh, there is a face; but it is a woman. More precisely, the face is his mother’s. Her loving eyes look down at him and he finds himself talking to her as he walks. Voice soft, choked with long suppressed emotions, “Hello mother. It has been a long time since we talked.” Years, if he is being honest.

Too long his heart says, too long his mind tells him. It has been years since he had left his homeland, the fertile fields and rolling hills. Years since he had turned his back and walked away and with that, Kadir had left his family. While there are many things in his life the antlered man will regret, he does not feel guilt for having to leave; but he will always miss her.

She, the woman who, with tender, loving care, raised him and showed him a world beyond the battlefield. The woman who would twine flowers into his mane and tail as she would sing songs of better days. Young Kadir would listen, committing those songs to memory for the few short years he was allowed to be a child. However there came the day when his father’s shadow fell over him and childhood drifted away.

He remembers the fights, the way his mother would try to keep him from the war that was on their doorstep, holding her young child close and scolding the man who wanted to take Kadir away. His father would chide her, drag the young boy away from her to drill the colt until he was bloody and bruised. The day belonged to his father and the drills he harshly taught his only son. He was made to summon light and fight and, if he refused, he be hit again and again until he fought back.

Yes, the day belonged to his father. However, the night? Well that belonged to his mother. He remembers laying in their small house, exhausted body weak and yearning to rest. Then, he would hear it, a soft voice, calling him. She beckoned him to awaken for there was so much to learn. He would drag himself from his bed and the two would steal away into the night, mother and son. There, under the watchful eyes of the silver goddess herself, his mother would, in his father’s words, ‘fill his head with useless dribble’.

Oh, but it wasn’t. Not one thing that Kadir learned under the shadow of the moon was useless. He learned how to be kind, loving, how to pick flowers and herbs. But most of all, he learned of peace. Peace. A time when there would be no more battles, no more children taught to fight, no more bloodshed. Under the pale moonlight he would listen to her stories and he would learn. There was always pain the next day but he didn’t care; for he was going to make the world a better place.

Head still tilted back, legs carrying him slowly forward, Kadir says, “I miss you mom. I wonder. Are you proud of me? Have I become the man you thought I would be? Maybe better?”

The folly of youth is that he believed that he could make the world better by doing what his father had taught him. So, he plied his trade and he was good at it. Death was his business and he dealt it with a heavy hand. The peace he yearned for seemed so far away and still he fought for it. Then, one day, on some distant battlefield he stared out at the field. Once green grass, now a yawning ocean of red, threating to swallow every fiber of his soul up and he remembers thinking how disappointed she would be.

His mother’s face swam in front of his eyes and that is when he started to doubt the cause. So many had laid down their lives, so many had fallen upon countless fields and still he fought. Perhaps, this was not the way to find peace. Slowly he became disillusioned with his soldier’s life. The finally straw came when he found out that everything he had been fighting for was a lie. That is when he had left and had never looked back.

Yet tonight, with the quiet guardian watching his steps, Kadir finds his mind turning back to times long past. With a soft sigh, the blue furred man speaks to the face on the moon, “I am sorry mother, I did not mean to leave you so quickly. I hope to see you again, one day.” The gentle breeze tosses his mane and kisses away the tears that have fallen. A half smile ticks the corner of his mouth up and his head lowers and he sees he is not alone.

So lost, he had been, that his legs have carried him into the company of another. Stopping a respectable distance away, his eyes search the other man. His fur gives off a soft blue glow and lights his surrounds slightly. Eyes clouded with memories, chest heavy with emotions, Kadir says softly, “Hello. I am sorry, I do not mean to disturb you. I was just…” he trails off and looks away sheepishly before finishing with, “talking to the moon.”

"I speak" I think

x|x


@Fynnic
#3
Nomad - 28 years
Played by LixyLime

He tries not to remember them. Once upon a time all too long ago, there had been love for the two beings whom were the very reason for his existence, the ones who had instilled in him the pride that resided within his chest for the magic which ran so deeply within his veins… Now, there was such a bitterness clutching so fiercely at the man’s heart which overwrote every single memory he begrudgingly wielded of them. Thinking back to their faces, he can only feel the unwarranted shame they and the council had sentenced him to carry for the remainder of his days walking this mortal realm, and it is as clear as scowl almost permanently painted upon his features that he has forgotten any love he may have had towards them. It was because of them that he was here in some strange world countless miles from the place he’d never imagined he would leave. Never in his entire life would he have forsaken his birthlands or the ones that he had strived tirelessly to prove that himself to, so that he might stand among the ranks of the council or perhaps simply make a niche for himself as a renowned crafter of the finest armors throughout Brannis. From colthood, that had been all Fynnic wanted. He’d wanted to see his father bragging to the council about his eldest son and how successful the young stallion was. He’d wanted to see his mother smile with all the pride and love she’d always told him she would have as he grew bigger, stronger, wiser. He’d wanted his younger brother to shine as Fynnic would show him that there was nothing in this world that could not be done if one worked passionately for it. Never had Fynnic wanted anything more.

But that was so long ago. Now, he only wants is to escape from all of it.

And yet, the chimera stallion alchemist knows that there is no running from his past. It is in the ache of his left shoulder on those sleepless nights when the jagged scars upon his left shoulder seem to ache and burn as badly as they did the day that they’d been forced upon him. It is in the mark lying there beneath those old wounds, the mark of his family and the kingdom he once called his home. It is hardly recognizable to the man these days whenever he might happen to glace at his reflection in still water. Strange silver eyes burn with loathing whenever they set themselves upon that eternal reminder, and if he were prone to acts of self-mutilation, there is little doubt within the beast that he would have ripped his own flesh there so that he could not see it in the slightest. Although, as days bleed into weeks, weeks into moths, and months into years, the demons within the darkest parts of his mind tempt him with such desires. Perhaps he might find a way to burn the flesh there, warp it beyond any hopes of ever showing what had been there before. He would be no better than those who had dared to accuse him of a crime that he did not commit if he claimed that he hadn’t felt a nearly consuming lust to let loose his own blood if it meant never having to wear that mark another day of his life. If they would so easily turn their backs to him when the only thing he’d been guilty of was not having been there sooner to save Kerrim, then he would turn his back to them for their failure to see the truth. Even if, somewhere far beneath the anger that was burning viciously from this injustice the gods had dealt him, there was a deeply buried part of the alchemist that was broken beyond words because of it.

The chimera does not turn his strange silvered eyes from the churning ocean before him despite the distant sounds of another approaching. It seemed that not even the moon cared to let Fynnic soak in the seaside symphony in just another attempt to exist without the flashing of images in the back of his mind. He hopes that they will fade off into the night, but they only grow louder, the dull thudding of obsidians against loose soil before finding sand. There is a voice that accompanies them, those foreign tenor tones nearly lost in the thundering of crashing waves. He cannot make out the words, and yet he hardly tries to, and they fall silent just as the stirrings of this stranger having found their way here to this cove as well do the same. He can feel another’s eyes upon him, and if it hadn’t been for the unusual and faint blue glow detected by his peripherals, he would not have turned to face the other stallion. As he slowly turns his head, one ear perked as the other hangs loosely to the side with disinterest, Fynnic finds himself among even more unusual company. He has never seen another like this stranger, his head adorned by both antlers and horns, a tail far from that of an equine, the thicker parts of his pelt glowing an aqua blue. Fynnic does not move from where he stands just out of reach of foam-crested waves reaching across soaked grains only to fall back into the ocean. The other man speaks softly then, looking away in an unfamiliar expression of embarrassment.”It’s fine”, husky tenor tones answer coarsely from lack of use as Fynnic looks back over the untamed saltwater.

What he does not say is that he often curses the celestial being for all that has happened to him.

Instead, like so many other things that do not fall past his lips, the stallion allows for silence to slip between them. He had never been good at small talk or socializing with others, though perhaps he had his studies to thank for this underdeveloped skill. He’d never seen any need for it, and especially now, the man hardly cared to try and pry into this stranger and what it was that brought him to this place in the middle of the night. He does not intend for there to be awkwardness, and yet he can hardly help the ever so slight shifting of his muscled frame to betray his own discomfort and uncertainty to this unexpected encounter. It went without saying that he did his best to avoid others of his kind that might wish to greet him, almost always giving commonlands a wide berth even if it meant trekking through unnecessarily difficult terrain. He would rather tire himself into a frothing sweat before welcoming bright smiles and curious eyes that might seek to try and get to know him. Kerrim had always been fluent in making acquaintances… The black sabino had been born with a gift to make even the gruffest or coldest of beings come to share a casual conversation for at least a few brief moments on a lazy afternoon. There was no denying that he had been their mother’s son in those moments… He knows that he should say something to the man whose own aura suggested that he was alone in this world much like Fynnic was, though he would never admit it to himself, let alone a stranger.”What is the name of this place?”, he asks finally, the only thing he can think to say to the other stallion. While he would argue that he didn’t truly care, it was better to know than not know.

And it was infinitely better than assuring the stranger that he, too, was aching from within.



×|. F  Y  N  N  I  C .|×
I'M HEARING VOICES FROM THE SHADOWS INSIDE ME




                                                                                                                                                                    @Kadir
#4
- 29
Played by Hermes
Kadir tries to give the man some semblance of privacy as he stands in the clearing, hooves heavy in the sand. Sand? When had he crossed onto sand? This causes the blue furred stallion to take in his surrounds more and he sees the water that laps against said sand. Yet this is not the beach he saw when he first arrived here. Interesting. Head swivels as he looks at the rocky walls that surround them, forming a cove that is protected from the prying eyes of the rest of the land. The ocean’s soft song filling the area. Salty air fills his nostrils when he inhales, reminding the man of his first trip upon the beach in this foreign place. His mind turns to the two headed equine demon he had met and he wonders how Shiori are doing right now.

Ears and head swivel at the husky sound of the other’s voice and Kadir turns his electric blue eyes toward the chimera stallion. The silver eyes of the other man are startling. The slivered orbs with no pupil that seem to glow catch him off guard and cause the glowing stallion to lose his train of thought. Something in those eyes speak of hard times, times perhaps better forgotten. In that respect, the horned man feels a kinship to the buckskin and black splashed stallion. For Kadir knows that feeling all too well. With a dip of his antlered head in thanks, he stands there as the silence stretches out. Should he say something? The other stallion does not appear to want to converse. Just when the glowing man is about to speak to try and tame the awkward silence that seems to have run away with the time, the stranger speaks and asks the name of this place.

Clearing his throat, Kadir’s deep voice once more fills the air, “Liridon. This place is called Liridon.” Shifting his weight slightly, he adds, “My name is Kadir, by the way.” A slight tilt of his head as he eyes the other stallion. Finally making up his mind, the blue furred man moves closer to the stranger. He takes it slow, in case the other stallion does not like the company and asks him to leave. Moving up to the man’s left side, he spies a set of scars along his left shoulder. There seems to be a mark under the scars but Kadir moves his eyes away in respect of the man’s privacy once more. The antlered man feels that there is story behind that but he does not want to ask just yet.

As he ponders what to say, Kadir comes to a stop on the man’s left side. Standing close enough that his glow bathes the stranger in its light but far enough away that the other stallion can have some personal space. Looking out over the ocean, his gaze slowly lifts to the moon again. After a few moments, he speaks, deep tones soft with memories, “Tonight seems to be a night of reflection…” Glancing down at the man he adds quickly, “For me, at least.” Quiet has always made the antlered stallion uncomfortable so he fills the empty space with his voice. Neck cranes back to lift his head to look at the moon, Kadir continues, “I guess that is the moon’s fault really. You see, back where I come from, there are stories of men that live in the face of the moon.”

Head slowly falls to look at the water that lays before him. Giving a glance to the other man, Kadir says, “They are stories told to children mostly, to give them someone to talk to at night, since they are drilled in the art of killing during the day. I guess the elders of my herd found that if they didn’t have someone to talk to about what they were doing… well many of them broke. You know, in the head.” Turning his head to look fully at the other stallion, Kadir offers a lopsided smile and says, “Guess that is why I never broke. I am too good at talking.” A laugh, deep but with no mirth or joy bursts forth. It quickly dies away and the antlered stallion says, “Please forgive me for talking so much. Silence has always been… difficult for me.”

With a small, lopsided grin, Kadir looks back out over the ocean and hopes that the stranger does not make him leave. Truth is, he needs the company right now.

"I speak" I think

x|x




@Fynnic
#5
Nomad - 28 years
Played by LixyLime

Fynnic was many things. He was aloof to the very definition of the word. Even as a youth, he hadn’t had any friends, though perhaps that was more his fault than anything else. For as long as he could regrettably remember, he’d aspired to be nothing less than the great figure his father had been. Many boys wanted nothing more than to be just like their fathers, strong and bold, invincible and respected. Perhaps the ideals and virtues to which they dreamed of embodying might be different from colt to colt, but the idea was the same at the very heart of it. They wanted to become like the one who had played a part in their creation. Before the gods had spat in the chimera stallion’s face, before his life had been so swiftly ruined, he’d wanted nothing more than to bring honor and pride to his family. Because of this, he spent his earliest days shadowing the great beast of a father he’d had when he knew that he wanted nothing else. And, when he was allowed to begin the studies of alchemy magic, that was all there was to him. There was no time for friends or frolicking around without any concern for the future. All he’d chased after as a boy was the future and what he wanted to become. So, it went without saying that he’d never exactly been given – or, as he considered the idea, forced into – those more fundamental things such as socializing and small-talk. His father had been nothing but business, and while his mother had perhaps indulged him before her so very young Fynnic thought he’d decided on what his destiny was to be through laughter and lullabies, these memories are so far buried within the bitter remnants of a once proud man that he can’t even say for certain that he’d ever enjoyed such things until his younger brother had been born.

He was ambitious, even if it no longer showed within those eerily glowing silver eyes or the frown which so often fell over his features in an ever-brooding expression. Once, he would have done nearly anything it would have taken for him to get where it was that he desired to be. It had shown in his determination to take in every page of the countless books and scrolls he’d read tirelessly. From before the sun rose in the east to well after it set in the west, he was within the chambers of the temple of alchemy, drowning himself in the ancient wisdoms and magics. When he wasn’t to be found there, he was scouring the books of his father’s study, going over those old chapters for the millionth time yet again or perhaps even his father’s forge where he would work tirelessly upon his alchemy magic and crafts. When it came to his works, he was – and still very much is – a perfectionist that never settles for a creation that is less than satisfactory. If something was to be remade a thousand times simply for the sake of being as close to perfectly made as his practiced skills would allow, then it would be done. The chimera stallion was proud of his crafts, of the things borne of his sweat, blood, and unrelenting work. It was this pride of his which had always driven the man to greatness within the kingdom of Brannis. Once, he had been renowned for his talents despite his age and reaped the fruits of his tenacity in praise by those who appraised his works and sought to purchase the armors he’d built.  His right of passage had come sooner  for him than it did for most, and before everything had been taken from him, ripped away and destroyed just as the flesh upon his shoulder had, there had never been a moment in his lifetime with which he had reveled in more.

What he wasn’t, though, was oblivious. Being a creature of detail in all that he does, even his lacking in the arts of socializing are not enough to miss the way that the other man seems to finally realize just where it was that he’d found himself. He can see from the corners of his vision how the man casts azure eyes over the jagged stone walls that shelter this part of the oceanside, seeming to now notice the intricate details of the cove within which they stand together regardless of the distance that lingers between the two stallions. Fynnic wonders fleetingly then if he has noticed the small freshwater stream from above them to their left cascades upon the sand as a small waterfall. The alchemist wonders if he has seen how the water pools shallowly below, though only slightly before it floods its unsuitable bed and runs into the embrace of the quieter, gentler ocean tides before them. Or, perhaps he has noticed the small cavern to their right? Fynnic has noticed how the shadows are darker there and the rocks form a sort of doorway, the only shelter here among the sand and stone save for the woodlands that grow boldly upon the precipice where land and sea meet… just has he has noticed the unsettled disposition of the softly glowing man and the way that he dips his head in wordless reply to the chimera stallion’s huskily spoken syllables. It is easy for the alchemist to see the unease in the stranger as silence continues to draw on between them, and it nearly remains this way until even Fynnic, for all his lack of a sociable nature, is made uncomfortable by it. The silence he prefers was came out of solitude, not birthed by not knowing what to say to an unfamiliar face who happens to wander into his presence in the middle of the night.

And so, he speaks to the only thing that holds any sort of relevance, though it is so terribly, frighteningly small to him. Liridon. This is the name that comes after the strange man clears his throat. He knows that he has never heard of this place before, that none of the countless books and scrolls he's read through have whispered this name. But, again, this had merely been to break the silence between them and little more. Why would it matter when the alchemist hardly knew if he wouldn't simply walk from one end of this realm to the other and venture on to the next world, continuing his aimless ventures to nowhere? And yet, he is given more than the name of this place, the man offering his own calling perhaps only the smallest of breaths later. Fynnic hesitates now, his gaze never straying from the ocean horizon where night sky seemed to touch dark, churning saltwater. Part of him had expected those ancient customs to crop up at some point during this encounter while the other part of him would have rather it gone forgotten... even in that smallest fractured piece of the man silently screamed for the unusual man, Kadir, not to leave."Fynnic", answer his husky tenor tones, monotone and distant, as though he wasn't entirely here. And, perhaps this was not far from the truth, the man always seeming trapped with the shadows swallowing his thoughts all too often. However, he is very much away of the close approach of Kadir. He does not move away, the only true sign that the chimera is aware of the other's movements being the lazy flick of his left ear. He does not know why it is the glowing stallion wishes to come closer, but he doesn't try to understand the man the fates seemed adamant on him sharing the night with. How determined they seemed to be in ensuring that the alchemist was denied the simplest of his wants.

He can feel electric blue eyes find the jagged scars upon the flesh of his shoulder for only a moment. This would have had a younger Fynnic wincing or shifting his weight uncomfortably once upon a time, uneasy about the questioning glances of those he passed by while others whispered to their afternoon companions, clearly speculating as to how it was that the large beast would have gained such vicious wounds. Maybe, once, he would have pinned his twin harks to the back of his head and scowled at those who dared to cast their judgement when they knew less than nothing about him. But, now, he doesn't even so much as flinch or turn to lock his silvered gaze upon the face of Kadir. Silence seems to linger between them again, but this time, it is not Fynnic who breaks the silence. The glowing stallion speaks of how tonight was one of reflection, quickly making note that it was more intended to say that it was such a night for himself, and the alchemist simply listens with his gaze still locked upon the horizon. But, when Kadir speaks of how it was the moon's fault for the nature of this night, the flames of loathing lick hungrily at the chimera's heart then and he has to refrain from nearly snarling at the celestial being for everything that he blamed it for. Then, Kadir is speaking of the stories from the place he hails from, but still there is nothing that the beast of mismatched skin has to say in reply. Brannis never had such stories of the moon or other like things. At least, not that he has heard when he was simply a colt and most would have begged and pleaded for their parents to whisper such tales before they were sent off to the realm of dreams. He cannot even recall if she'd tried and he'd simply disregarded them as nothing more than fairy-tales meant for dreamy-eyed fillies who wished upon shooting stars for some prince steal their hearts away.

What he does remember is that Kerrim had loved stories... He remembers because it had been the black sabino colt who'd very nearly bounces ahead of their mother and into his own chamber within the handsomely built home their parents had made together, those dark eyes bright with youthful eagerness. It was in the memories that Fynnic can almost remember his mother's gentle laughter... and yet it falls just out of his mind's reach. Or, was it not so much his mind's capabilities to grasp these moments lost in the past as it was his jaded, bitter, loathing heart refusing to let them in again and instead pushing them away forcefully? Maybe it was both. He nearly dismisses Kadir's seemingly endless words as idle talk, something he'd never been keen on participating in. And then... for the first time in so long that he couldn't even remember the last time... Kadir speaks of how the young in his homelands were drilled into becoming skilled killers. Somehow, and in a way that Fynnic cannot say he has felt since his younger brother, there is a connection that tries to spark to life then. The chimera, so terribly disconnected from the world around him, cannot understand what this was, but it stood out against the cold and bitterness he has become accustomed to, like a streak of lightning in a dark storm. So, Kadir was a solider? The alchemist knew the life of a solider, not personally, but through his family's trade. The glowing stallion gives a lopsided smile then as he remarks that he hadn't broken because he was too good at talking."So it would seem", Fynnic remarks simply, no note of humor, taunting, or malice to be found there. It was an agreement with this... self-reflection Kadir seemed to be indulging in rather thoroughly at the time.

How... unlikely it would be that the two stallions would have found each other, let alone be what appeared at first glance to be complete opposites of the other. Kadir, despite the note of melancholy that he seemed to carry within his voice, was still warm and willing to talk with a stranger in a strange world during the darkest hours of the night, It was becoming rather clear to the alchemist that his company enjoyed the very things that Fynnic has worked quite hard at avoiding whenever possible. The chimera had always skirted around social gatherings, locking himself away with only old pages, metals, and his ambitions for companions. He lacked the natural ability to make casual conversation with others, the only exceptions having once been his family. Now, without them in his life, there was only the temporary comfort of silent stillness, when the voices of his past seemed to subside beyond his hearing for at least a little while. Still having not looked away from the ocean, Kadir ushers an apology how his almost unrelenting voice as he seemed to delve into a part of his past while confessing in the same breath that silence was hard for him."We all seek solace, one way or another", he replies then, only showing his lack of understanding on how any of this sharing feelings worked. Even if he had wanted to comfort the man, he wouldn't even begin to know how to accomplish such a feat. Metals and minerals didn't have feelings, thoughts, or dreams of their past or future. This was perhaps why he spent so much time in his crafting. There wasn't any complications beyond making them into how he wanted."Silence is mine, though it is fleeting". What he doesn't say is why it is fleeting, that he wants the silence because it stills the voices of his past....



×|. F  Y  N  N  I  C .|×
I'M HEARING VOICES FROM THE SHADOWS INSIDE ME



@Kadir
#6
- 29
Played by Hermes
When the stallion offers his name, Kadir dips his head slightly, acknowledging the information and thanking the man, silently, for giving it to him. Something keeps the antlered stallion from leaving Fynnic to his peace, even though the blue furred man feels like a nuisance and an intruder. He finds his voice keeps breaking the silence as he talks about nothing and everything. Words pour forth like from a fountain with a broken head, spewing useless knowledge about. The comfort of his own voice is doing little to stop the thoughts that start to spin uncontrollably through his mind.

Does he talk too much?

Probably, yet that does not stop him continuing to do it.

Is he being a pest?

Again, probably and still that does not stop him.

Brains can be great weapons and right now, Kadir’s is turning against him. The spinning wheels of his mind have started to churn up his deepest, darkest fears, bring them to light and allowing them to take hold. Bother, nuisance, annoying, useless. His fears vomit these words into his mind, letting them free to run wild and cause havoc. For all his good nature and laughter, Kadir hides behind those the secrets of self-doubt and loathing. Then the one thing he does not want to hear is loosed from the pit of darkness.

Burden.

The word, though only thought, almost sends a visible tremor through his body. That word, of all the words that he knows, is the cruelest one of all. The shadows of his past descend upon him, choking him, threating to steal away the air from his lungs. His vision blurs as he is lost to memories long past.

A young colt lays bleeding in the mud, cuts littering his back from the training he was receiving. His father’s voice, pounds into him as the man yells, screaming his rage that the gods have given him a weak child. ‘Why must I be cursed with this burden?’ The man spitting into the mud next to the colt, showing his distaste for his own creation. The only solace that the young Kadir found on those bitter nights was the voice of his mother, drawing him from the depths of his grief, filling his mind with stories of better days and places far from there. Her voice reaches him now, from his well of memories, a balm for his wounded soul.

That is really why he talks so much, to chase the shadows back into the pit that he built in his mind. They sit down there, waiting, coiled snakes ready to strike when he least anticipates. Their venom the words of his father and others who have doubted, hurt and belittled Kadir. Deadly in its own right, weakening slowly the safe guards he has in place. He latches onto the anchor of his voice, feeling his vocal cords moving and the soft thrum of effort as words leak into the air. It pulls him back to the cove and Fynnic, starting to close off the relentless onslaught of his past.

So, when Kadir speaks about being good at talking, he almost doesn’t expect a reply from the stoic stallion that he is standing next to. When the man’s husky voice breaks through the air with the simple reply, the horned stallion finds his eyes rounding slightly in shock. The words hold no humor or cruelty in them, just a statement of fact that Kadir himself had admitted to. A simple statement, yet, to Kadir, it means so much more. It means that the scarred man is listening to him. Fynnic is not toning him out, instead he hears the hurting man and offers his voice as another buoy to latch onto.

A lifesaver thrown to a drowning man.

Kadir grabs onto it and after a few moments pause, a soft, deep chuckle escapes from the earthen hued man. This stallion intrigues Kadir, everything about Fynnic speaks of wanting to be left alone, to be left in the silence that he seems to revel in. Yet, the chimera stallion does not snap at the talkative newcomer. He does not demean or humiliate Kadir. While Fynnic does not say much, what he does not do also speaks volumes. Something about the way the chimera man patiently listens to the blue furred stallion drone on about trivial things makes Kadir wonder if perhaps he does not want to be alone. Maybe, just maybe, the glowing stallion is not an unwanted guest.

When Kadir apologizes for talking too much, the words that greet him in husky tones offer another glimpse into the man next to him. Solace. The stallion speaks of it and Kadir knows that solace is a funny thing. Like Fynnic says, we all seek it in one way or another. The way that Kadir seeks the comfort he so desperately wants is in the company of others. After a lifetime of killing, he seeks his repentance with small acts of kindness to others. Nothing can atone for his actions of the past but the foundation for a brighter future starts with simply being a better equine.

When the stallion he has intruded upon speaks of silence being his solace, Kadir nods his head and allows quiet to lapse between them. It is not uncomfortable to him now, knowing that the man seeks the peace the stillness brings. When he does speak again, his deep voice is soft and low as he tries to let the chimera stallion know he respects his wish for peace. He says, “There was a poem I heard once, that I want to share with you. ‘The silence before the sound is the quiet envelope between the now and the after. Your last moment of unknowing before the sowing. Of whatever, whoever, wherever, comes next.’” 

A small pause as Kadir orders his thoughts, trying to pull a poem from the depths of his memories, something that would convey his feelings on the subject of talking. Working his jaw a little, as if to loosen the tongue, the antlered man says, “I respect your desire for solace but sometimes, there are greater things to do than be silent. They say actions speak louder than words but they misjudge the weight of said words. After all, ‘Words can make one happy, words can bend one’s mind; Words can make one grumpy, words can make one kind. Words can illuminate a man, words can make one weep; words can hurt so much, that a man cannot sleep. Words can hide the truth, words can strike the heart; words can provoke the youth, to make a revolution start. Words can give one freedom, words can push one to heights. Only words have such powers, to separate wrongs from rights. Words are more than missiles, that make one just die; but, if hit, cause much damage, that makes one forget to try. Words before being spoken, are under our total control; But after we speak the words, we fall under their control.’”

Silence once more blankets the air and there is a relaxed quality about it as Kadir allows the man to process what he has said. Once more he smiles, a sincere expression of gratitude for the chimera stallion listening to him. Tilting his head back, the blue furred stallion closes his eyes and just allows the moment to stretch out for ages. He listens to the silence and finds that, even in the space without words, there are still sounds. The water, breathing, animals, even the soft creaking of the trees that lay behind them. Without opening his eyes, he says, “Words may break the silence but they carry much weight behind them. Silence is a fickle thing, always broken, there is never true peace, unless we are dead. As long as our hearts beat, sounds will follow us. So why not break it with words? They can do much more than just annoy. In them we find out about others and about ourselves.”

Eyes open and he lowers his head to look at Fynnic. Deep tones say, “So, what I guess I am trying to say is thank you for letting me talk and I am here to listen if you need me to.” A small smile appears as he finds himself thanking the silvered eye stallion in a very roundabout way. For all his talking, he was just trying to thank Fynnic and let him know that it is okay if he wants to chat too. He is offering support the only way he knows how.

Because Kadir really just wants to make a friend of the scarred stallion.







First Poem: The Silence Before The Sound by Silence is Beauty
Second Poem: The Power of Words by Omkar Atale

"I speak" I think

x|x




@Fynnic
#7
Nomad - 28 years
Played by LixyLime

There had never been a moment in the alchemist's life where he'd felt unwanted. Well, save for the day he lost everything that he'd strives relentlessly towards. Before that day, the chimera had been a son to two of Brannis' finest crafters and architects whose own future had appeared to be nothing but promising when he'd begun his studies. The Sloan Family and the high council had all believed that young Fynnic would make just as fine a crafter as the beast who sired him, the dappled sooty buckskin man having only looked upon his eldest son with pride and ever-higher expectation. Fynnic's biggest critic and harshest mentor had always been his stern and solemn father, dark eyes scrutinizing each and every small detail of the armor and weapons with all the keen eyesight of a fierce raptor of the skies. His father had been sharp in his instructions, hard on the chimera whenever he would find a weakness in the things that the young man would craft and present to his father for judgment. There was no counting the times that the almost unforgiving man had wrinkled his face in disgust at the imperfections he would find, just as there was no counting just how many times he had forced his son to start over."And, this time, don't f*** up", his father would say before sharply turning away and disappearing from the forge to tend to whatever or whomever it was that called for his attention. Perhaps some who knew of Fynnic's father might say that he was much too hard on the growing boy that so clearly worked long and tiresome hours in his family's forge just to try and make perfect what he could with the knowledge from each new lesson his father gave him. And, when he was not sweating over iron and steel, it was the scrolls within the temple of Brannis or his father's own study that Fynnic would be reading through until long after the sun had sent beyond the horizon.

Some would have expected the chimera to despise the man who he called father. And yet, he had only ever taken his the dappled sooty buckskin stallion's harsh words and near-constant, almost brutal criticisms as fuel for the fierce flames of ambition and tenaciousness to better himself until he could earn his father's approving glance and proud nod. He hadn't cared how tired he became, how heavy his eyes would grow as he read those ancient words by candle light when all others were sleeping within their homes. What he had desired was intricate, undeniable perfection. It hadn't mattered to the learning alchemist how many hours of studying or crafting it would take him to achieve this goal. For every time his father very nearly spat on his creations for their failure at meeting his expectations, Fynnic only became more driven, more determined. Maybe someone might have dared to ask him why it mattered so much, why it was that a perfectly sound piece of armor needed to be destroyed and remade when it would have easily served its purpose regardless of the slightest and most minor flaws there might have been. The chimera never would have cared to answer this foolish inquiry then, nor would he even now, but buried deeply within the beast's beating heart, seeing the pride in his father's gaze once made it all worthwhile. To know that his father would brag to those of the high council about how he could never have asked the gods upon their marble thrones of cumulus for a stronger, more well-read, and naturally talented son was once more than enough of a reason for Fynnic to study until his eyes could no longer see clearly or work on his crafts until he could not stand to lift another piece of metal or ore. He had learned from his father that even the most naturally talented forger or architect would never know true, immortalizing greatness if they did not chase perfection in their gifts.

He never knew the words such as pest, nuisance, or burden.
But, what he did come to know was incompetent, pariah, and failure.
All because of something he did not do and refused to beg forgiveness for.

Perhaps... if Kerrim hadn't died in the accident borne of his own inability to wield the same alchemy the chimera has worked relentlessly to obtain... if he had listened to his older brother's warnings... then, just maybe, Fynnic would not be here within this cove tonight, paying the price that was beset upon him by the council and his own parents. How deeply their accusations had cut the alchemist that day, their gazes a wild storm of fury and grief. So blinded by their loss of the black sabino that they needed something, someone to blame for what had happened. And, who else to place the blame upon other than the one who'd been there, crying out for help as he stood over the lifeless and nearly unrecognizable body of the brother he'd loved? No words had been able to save Fynnic from their scorn as they sentenced him to exile and stripped him of pride and honor they once bestowed upon him when they'd welcomed him into their ranks. His mother wept, but it was not for her eldest son that those tears fell from her gaze. His father cursed at the chimera, forsaking the son he'd once been proud of."No son of mine would have ever been so utterly careless, so negligent. You are not my son". These were the last words spat at the alchemist by the very man he'd looked up to all his life, until that very moment where he would not listen to reason as Fynnic futilely attempted to defend his own name against those who he'd held in such high regard. As he was escorted out of Brannis, as his own parents and the kingdom he'd sworn his life to serve turned their backs on him, so, too, did he. If they did not see all that he had done for the honor of his family and Brannis, then they were as dead to him as he was to them. They were undeserving of his love and loyalty. As the scars that defiled the mark upon his shoulder, he decimated the devotion once felt for any of them.

He'd cursed all but his younger brother and the gods who created them for everything that has happened to him, built walls around himself thicker than anything the world has ever seen. He has walked this earth a bitter and cold beast, refusing to ever confess to the melancholy that has followed him much like the shadows of his past he can never seem to escape from despite his attempts to. And yet, for reasons the chimera cannot even begin to fathom in this moment, he does not will Kadir away from him. While he will fiercely refuse to acknowledge even the smallest sliver of ease that comes with the companionship of the glowing man beside him, there is a voice buried so far beneath the ice and almost entirely lost to the raging tempest within him that begs the alchemist to release at least a small fragment of the disdain clutching so tightly at his heart. It cries for him to let go of the anguish which has plagued him all these years from his brother's untimely passing, to loosen the tight hold his loathing has had upon the all-too-vivid glimpses of the day he was exiled from his home and his family. He tries to squander it, this spark that seeks ti ignite a fire somewhere in his distant self. And yet, he cannot. Eerily glowing silver peripherals take note of Kadir's slight surprise flickering across his electric depths, but Fynnic does not dare to make known that he has seen it. The antlered stallion has seen something more in Fynnic than the rest of the world has in nearly a decade, despite his best efforts to show nothing at all. But, even for all his defiance in allowing another to have even the most fleeting glimpse into the parts of himself he had hidden, the alchemist is not nearly as cold and uncaring as he claims or tries to appear. He is not a cruel man, he can see when another is as lost as he is. While he has fought viciously to hide it, a heart does beat there within his chest, and it can feel the anguish of others.

Maybe, it is because of this that he allows for Kadir to carry on.
Patience with others has never been Fynnic's strong suit, this he will admit.
So, why then, he does not find Kadir's soft voice a disturbance as he did with the voices of others?

Ignoring the faintest possibility that it means anything at all, the alchemist instead finds his company speaking somewhat lower than he had moments ago. And, this time, his baritones carry a poem that Kadir feels compelled to share with Fynnic. As before, the chimera listens to these intricately woven words, and he finds them surprisingly profound. For a fleeting moment in time, this intrigues the wordless man towards his previously unexpected company. Of the soldiers he has met, he has never known - or, truthfully, cared to know to any extent - any of them to be poets or philosophers. Then again, it was becoming rather apparent that a life upon the battlefield, while the glowing stallion was built well for it, was possibly not one of his choice or wanting. There was a softness about the man that was not found in a beast of war. Had it perhaps been anyone but Fynnic, he may have been asked why it was he was a trained killer when it seemed far from his calling, but no such question finds the alchemist's lips. He has vested too much time in keeping the rest of the world much farther than a metaphorical arm's length. If anything, he worked just as determinedly at keeping them several miles away as he did with his alchemy magic. That wasn't likely to change tonight, or even the night to come after this one. Instead, he merely listens as Kadir gives pause to gather his thoughts before breaking the momentary silence between them yet again. These words, they are not about the very thing that Fynnic finds solace in when the shadows of his past are not encroaching on his short-lived solitude. No, this time, these words that fall from the antlered stallion are regarding the power of one's voice now, speaking of how they can give... and how they can take away. To this, the chimera is not a stranger. He has had words praise his name and his talents just as he has had them strip him of all that and so much more. To separate wrongs from rights...

He can feel the flames of his loathing flare within his being then as these words echo within his mind. Beneath these familiar feelings of bitterness, chiseled and well-defined muscle tighten beneath his skin of mismatched hues. Where had the power been in his words then, the very words that he had screamed out in his defense of the crime he was wrongfully accused of? Where had their strength been, the strength so capable of swaying the minds of others as he  demanded that the high council open their eyes to what had really happened? As he had asked for them to realize that it had been him and him alone who had tried to stop Kerrim from what he did not know he would call down upon himself? What difference was his voice against the voices of those who condemned him so readily, seeking to place blame in the only place they could that was no themselves of the black sabino? These were the questions that roared within his thoughts, and if not for Kadir's presence, he would have reared up towards the moon and screamed his rage at the heavens like he has so many times before. The gods would give the words of his accusers more power than the truth, and it left the alchemist very nearly seething within because of it. Had this been one of his weaker moments, there may have been the chance that Fynnic would have flattened his ears and bared his teeth. The power of one's words only ever seemed so reliant on one's place in this world and their status among others who might hold them with any regard at all. Not everyone's voice could carry across the sky like thunder and shake the clouds like rolling, and it was the voices that couldn't which went unheard and without the power Kadir's poetry spoke of. Somehow, Fynnic's was among those who could not beckon such strength, or even just enough so that the world and those in it would know the truth from the lies carried by the voices much louder than his own.

He has long since accepted that no one cared to hear his truth.
In the end, it would not matter how loudly he screamed and cursed at the moon.
When all was said and done, he had no power to change the minds of those who have forsaken him.

He refrains from allowing these feelings to trickle through his expressionless mask and forces himself to ease his thick frame. Those same muscles which had tensed perhaps only a fleeting breath ago are loosened once more, though the flesh upon his scarred shoulder twitches almost reflexively. It did this often in such moments. Silence falls between the two men there just out of the ocean's reach as the night carries on without consideration for anything or anyone else, and as quickly as the flames had risen, they ebb away into only a smoldering pile of coals, ever-lingering and a constant reminder to him. Kadir's small movement catches the corner of the chimera's gaze, but still he does not look away from the ocean waves beyond the shelter of the cove, silver light dancing over frothing foam crowns. Now, it seems that his companion slips into the silence as he tilts his head to the moon, the quiet save for the sounds of the world around them seeming to stretch on for an uncounted number of moments. Kadir speaks again, speaks first as he has since encountering the alchemist."You speak profound words", the alchemist remarks briefly then."I have tried words before. And they have not served me well", he adds, knowing that what he has said is vague and yet he does not elaborate further. Again, the other man speaks, but this time, his movements are seen from the edge of his gaze, and Fynnic turns fully to the man. It is strange, seeing gratitude within a smile. In fact, he cannot remember the last time that he has seen such warmth. But, still, it is not enough to shift the alchemist's own features. He is unsure how to answer, and so he nods in acknowledgement for being thanked for something he did not do."Noted", is all that falls from his lips then in reply to Kadir's offer. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about his past. Even if that lost voice within him cried out otherwise.



×|. F  Y  N  N  I  C .|×
I'M HEARING VOICES FROM THE SHADOWS INSIDE ME




@Kadir