wake up with the rain; kadir

- Immortal
Played by Collie

i want to wake up with the rain - Leto

She roams Dalmat like a ghost, haunting a place she loves and loathes, a place she is tied to and unable to leave; precious, delicate tendrils of her heart wrapping themselves around every tree, every rock. And when Dalmat's heart beats so does Leto's. Really she should abandon this place, leave Liridon and all its heartbreak behind her. But Leto is sick; masochistic, she wants the pain - seeing the ghosts of her past down ever wooded path seems to be the only thing to remind her that she is alive. 

It isn't always Mordecai - mostly, but not always.

Sometimes it is Kaimana, although Leto cannot truly remember the lavender king anymore. She remembers his smile, gentle and kind - she had been judgmental of him (maybe it had been Mordecai rubbing off on her) - the dismissive way she had been treated. She had been young after all, nothing more than a lovesick girl in many people's eyes, too consumed by her lover to really break free of his hold, be her own. She had been selfish, self absorbed, seeing no further than her own nose (and when she did look further than that all she could see was Mordecai). They had both been toxic. Even now, when she thinks of Kaimana she is really thinking of Mordecai.

Sometimes Leto wonders if she still takes up his mind like he takes up hers. Does he stand and replay their conversations in her mind like she does.

They bump, pale shoulder against soft fiery red, wings shuffle; his eyes meet hers. "Sorry", she had said, but her eyes were drawn to his face; the look that shone in those eyes; that grin, the grin that made curiosity ache and churn in her stomach, and before Leto really knew what was happening she was enraptured. ”I don't forgive you at all, actually.” Was that the moment?  “I‘ll have to make it up to you then,” she saidback, undeterred by his reply, if anything it excited her.

Stop. Just stop.

Sometimes she thinks of Killian, and of Skye. Of Shymoor and Alexis, although she cannot remember their little faces either. They are gone too; just voices and names that exist in her mind. Maybe some of them are alive somewhere, living a life of love and happiness. She hopes so. Killian may have been the one to break her cycle of self loathing, had they gotten the chance to truly be with one another - Leto could spend her entire life thinking of her missed chances. She could become consumed by it ; it is pure determination that brings her out of her daydream world of memories and back to the present Dalmat.

There is very little life in Dalmat at the moment, although she had witnessed a few horses passing through - Leto had not emerged from the shadows to seek them out. She should have; life would be less lonely with company. Instead she finds herself wandering from Dalmat and into the unclaimed lands. There is more life here, more creatures, but Leto doesn't go out of her way to greet them, instead she slips by and finds herself in a small glen, along the treeline, it is silent, nothing but the soft tweet of the bird life and the soft mottled sunlight through the leaves.

  "talking goes here," 

- 29
Played by Hermes
Kadir walks slowly through the forest, head lifted slightly back to watch the sunlight filter through the leaves of the canopy. The way the sunlight hits the green in the trees and makes them translucent, allowing the veins of the leaf to become pronounced always leaves the stallion breathless. Marveling at the beauty of this emerald paradise, a poem that the antlered man had read ages ago, plays through his mind. It strikes him, that the person who wrote the poem, may have been walking in a forest, not unlike this one, when the verses came to them.

He wonders if, perhaps in another life, in another place, he would have been a poet. Spending days out in nature thinking of words to string together. Adding beauty to the world. Instead he had become a solider, a warrior that was supposed to be nothing but a killing machine. Nonetheless, the man had always found peace within the lines of poems. The words speaking to some part of his soul, of something so profoundly beautiful this world could never achieve.

Because of that, Kadir had spent countless hours reading and memorizing every word, every line of poetry he could find.

Until his father had found out about his love for, in his father’s own words, ‘Such trivial things’. Then Kadir had been forbidden to learn any further poetry. Crushed, the young man had watched as his father took every scrap of paper with words written on them and burned them in front of his son. He had been forced to watch the fire consume the beauty that he found. The flames had devoured, greedily, the books that Kadir had held so close to his heart. Tears had fallen that day and the bitten bite of the sadness he felt, hardened a part of his heart.

Until he discovered that the fire could not destroy the words that were etched in his mind.

So, the harsh punishment of his father did nothing to stop the young stallion reciting the poetry he had learned. As he grew he secretly started learning more poetry. When he was gone for weeks at a time, fighting in foreign places on strange battlefields he found that was when his father was nowhere in sight. With the man gone, Kadir took to secreting books in his pack. As the rest of his company slept, the young stallion would crack open the forbidden objects and commit to memory every letter of the texts.

Learning new verses became his life and the only way to keep his soul from becoming corrupted. Battle has a way of turning the best soul into twisted husks of their former self.

As he comes back to the present, the poem coming unbidden into his mind, the words bringing a strange comfort to him. The stallion thinks back how the books had calmed the most turbulent thoughts that raged. Right now, he does not need the calming peace that always comes with those sweet lines and yet, he still feels the welcomed feeling wash over him. With a small smile on his lips, the blue-furred stallion recites the words out loud. His deep voice breaking the still air, “I think that I shall never see, a poem as lovely as a tree.”

A gentle breeze sways the branches of the looming giants and they almost seem to be waving to the poetry loving stallion. They really are special, each one outwardly looking the same or similar to the next tree but each one so unique and different. The way the bark curls on one while another is smooth. One’s branches sag, heavy with big round leaves while another has small oval leaves. Every tree is a like a different world, each one having its own story to tell. How long have they stood guard here? Watching the inhabits come and go while they bid silent greetings to each passing soul.

Suddenly it strikes him, how much like equines they are. No two exactly alike. Each one their own distinctive self.

The small smile stays upon his lips as his mind turns over the similarity of trees and equines. While he continues on his journey, eyes passing from one tree to another, Kadir resumes reciting the poem. “A tree whose hungry mouth is prest, against the earth’s sweet flowing breast. A tree that looks at God all day, and lifts her leafy arms to pray.” As the last line passes his lips, head tilts back more so that his antlered crown can glimpse the patches of blue sky that appear between the overhanging canopy.

Is there a God that lives up there among the clouds? Or are there Gods? Does some celestial being, or beings, sit up there, staring down at the everyday activities that happen upon the crust of this earth and wonder to themselves, what have they done? Kadir has never really believed in some great architect that shapes the destinies of all those that live, however, the idea does intrigue him and, for a moment, he thinks of all he been through. Surely, there is no being cruel enough to inflict what happened onto him.

But then he thinks of Fable. And Fynnic. And all the others he has meet in his short time is Liridon. While his past might have been horrible, his fortune is turning around for the better.

Allowing his mind to turn back to the trees, Kadir continues to recite the poem, “A tree that may in Summer wear, a nest of robins in her hair. Upon whose bosom snow has lain, who intimately lives with rain.” He lowers his head from craning to see the sky, his long lion like tail swishing lazily from side to side as he walks. The blue fur along his back, under his chest and along his tail glows softly. The light of the sun, dims the natural glow that always accompanies the horned stallion but the light that he gives off is still present.

With a long wistful sigh, the stallion finishes with, “Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree.” The small smile fades from his lips as he enters a small glen, ears listening to the birds that sing in the canopy above him. Hooves press into the soft grass and he steps out into the sunlight, inhaling deeply as he stops his forward progress. Eyes close for a moment as he holds his breath, allowing the sun to warm his body. Exhaling slowly, he opens his electric blue eyes and looks around the area.

He gives a start as he spies a figure in the tree line to his right. Calling out, he says, “Hello! I am sorry to disturb you. I did not mean to intrude on your space. I was just…” eyes look at the forest and the small smile appears again before he finishes, “reciting poetry to the trees. I am really sorry if I bothered you.” Head lowers a little bashfully and he offers, “I can leave if you would like.”

Poem: Trees by Joyce Kilmer

"I speak" I think