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 Posted: Wed Mar 30, 2011 8:57 pm
It was an average day, the stallion supposed with some degree of moodiness. The weather was average, mildly cloudy and mildly cool, and really mildly pleasent enough. The season's turn was rolling slow and the leaves were sharply tipped with the pale smooth green of fresh spring. Grass was underhoof again, snow had melted to join the clear cold streams here and there. Birds sang and spoke in the trees, insects were begining to hum and buzz as flowers poked their heads up in soft brushes of rainbow blooms.
Oh. And Pure was gone missing again.
Drat that cousin of his. Cleite supposed that the stallion's exploits and misadventures would only get worse without the snow and ice to inhibit easier travel. Not that it had much inhibited Cleite's ability to find his exasperating relative. Nor had it inhibited Pure's knack for wooing precisely the wrong mares. Why could he not get it through his head? 'It' being any number of the lectures, explanations, and outbursts he'd inspired Cleite to come up with. Arguing was not the stallion's usual style but, ugh, that Pure...
...and now trees. Drat. Well maybe he'd get a better look around from on the ground. It would be nice to give his wings a rest. The one was still vaugely sore in a memory sort of way when he flew too long. It hadn't been broken, he didn't think, but hurt rather badly in defense of...well. Guess. Guess who had angered yet another tough warrior-like stallion. Just guess. Arching his white-feathered wings, the young stallion slipped from the sky to land smoothly upon soft earth. Very soft actually. Soft enough for...were those hoofprints? Why yes. Yes they were. Pure's? He wasn't sure. At least, thankfully, they were solo. Maybe his cousin had not yet stirred up trouble.
With a sigh and a careful reshuffle of his wings, while his mane and tail would be quite windblown he was ever so careful to keep those glossy sleek feathers in precise order, Cleite began to follow the trail. With any luck he'd catch up to Pure before he needed to rescue the daft fool. Again. And probably get himself a lovely limp as a thank you too.
Quietly brooding, and feeling rather guilty for it, as his aunt would be devastated should anything actually happen to her only foal, Cleite moved through the trees, eventually falling in beside one of the cold clear streams that he'd seen from the air. Pure would turn up eventually. Possibly squealing in terror that whatever was happening was not his fault. No matter how painfully obvious that it was.
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Posted: Fri Apr 01, 2011 2:12 pm
But that was where he and Beatrice had parted ways. She had lingered nearby for a few months, and he had even struck up a sort of friendship with the mare. But ultimately, he had parted ways, rather uncomfortable with the idea of someone actually caring. He hadn't trusted her, and hadn't understood why she had felt the need to fuss over his wounds and generally make sure she stayed healthy. No one had given a damn about him before, and she had made clear in an earlier meeting that she had found no favor in him.
Bah.
Mares. Who needed them?
The stallion limped out of the underbrush, allowing his mane to fall over his features and almost ignoring the sight of the wind nearby. These lands were mostly quiet, but still had the most infuriating way of spring up 'guests' whenever he wished only for peace! His blue eyes narrowed a bit, and his nostrils flared as he studied the wind. Chandar didn't recognize him as he HAD come to know of a few families that also shared these lands. Whoever this wind was, he was a stranger. Well, if he knew what was good for him he'd move out quickly.
Giving a small snort, he did what he often did, and ignored the wind. Moving to the edge of the waters, he lowered his head and took a drink. He cared not or feared not the stranger. Chandar prided himself on strength and an ability to hold his own. The scars on his body, many of them very fresh, proved that much. He had managed to survive a skinwalker attack, which not many could claim. The bearwalker had left him for dead, but luck had allowed him another chance.
Had that softened him up? Not . . .really. But he had learned some manners from Beatrice. Sort of. In an unusual sort of way. Focusing only on the cool waters, he kept his ears pricked and alert, but otherwise looked nothing more than a statue.
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Posted: Wed Apr 06, 2011 5:05 pm
Cleite looked up sharply at movement in the underbrush. Was it Pure? He paused in his following the hoofprints to peer in the direction of the small noise. Not purple though. Green. Black and green. So it wasn't his cousin but...oh. Oh ouch some of those looked really decidedly painful. The wind stallion couldn't help himself as he looked over the raw scars left over from some kind of terrifying encounter. It must have been horrible. And here he was thinking sour thoughts about a wing that was probably just bruised a little. ...wait, why was he feeling guilty about this?
That was absurd. He didn't need to be worse off than everyone else in the world to be unhappy that his wing hurt. Honestly. It was silly. He was perfectly entitled to feel a little annoyed or sorry for himself if he wanted to. Not wallowing in self absorbed pity, like a certain purple stallion. But unhappy sometimes. He didn't need to be the survivor of a trauma to be unhappy sometimes.
And so when the other stallion's eyes narrowed at him before the stranger snorted Cle stood his ground firmly. He was used to being diplomatic, but there was no reason for him to cringe or back down or apologize. Not to this stranger, he'd done nothing wrong after all. ...but what if Pure had?
Oh drat. Now he was all concerned again.
Coughing slightly to clear his throat, he waited for the other to apparently finish looking him over with some degree of self-consciousness. The wind was hardly the vain sort, not like Pure. But he did like to think he wasn't a total mess. His mane and tail were a bit long sure, and generally pretty windblown, but not knotted and tangled...er...as badly as they could be. Well. At least his wings were perfectly tended to. The white feathers shown sleek and glossy and clean, carefully and gently preened into their proper place to maintain their usefulness. It wasn't until the strange stallion looked away to slake his thirst that Cleite realized his ears had swiveled back under the scrutiny. That might have qualified as rude. Or hostile. He hated to do that...
"Excuse me," he greeted softly, his tone carefully polite as he approached cautiously. He knew better than to invade personal space, much less get close enough to be confrontational. "I'm afraid my...erm. Cousin. Has gotten...misplaced." Maybe his tone had gone more aggravated there. "You haven't been annoyed by an airheaded purple stallion recently, have you?"
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Posted: Sat Apr 30, 2011 12:10 pm
Chandar drank his fill, minding his own business, when the wind approached him. Honestly, as soon as he'd scrutinized the stallion and perceived him as no threat, he'd completely disregarded the other. He wasn't here for conversation, he wasn't here to gossip or cuddle up to others in an attempt to be sociable. Nope, all he wanted was to slack his thirst and continue on. He really had no where in particular he needed to be, or any place to go, but moving was something he'd done all his life. It really was the only lifestyle he understood.
Unfortunately though, the purple and blue wind edged closer and suddenly broke the peace and quiet of the woods. Chandar visibly flinched before he took an involuntary step back and lifted his head. Vibrant blue eyes narrowed once again, a scowl permanently upon his features as he regarded the wind. Talk about a friendly encounter. Still, he didn't snarl or snap, he didn't drive him away as he might have done while younger. While he might be defensive and look like a miserable sod, he at least understood and took time to consider the question.
"I'm annoyed by everyone if you want an honest answer," Chandar stated, his voice gruff and fairly cold. It certainly didn't help give him much appeal, though his words weren't mean. Unfortunately, many didn't make the dissertation between the two. Still, he gave a dismissive flick of his tail. "But specifically a purple creature, no, I have not. I haven't met any for weeks now outside of you." Lucky Cleite.
Chandar said nothing as he kept his gaze firmly planted on the stallion. While he wasn't warm or friendly, he was actually on his best behavior. Time spent with the mare, Beatrice, had given him a new perspective. Some were worth having around and weren't necessarily cruel. Beatrice had assisted him even after he had been able to limp around and death was no more a threat. But she stayed. She conversed. Still, conversations and interactions with others truly were a foreign concept to the stallion.
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Posted: Tue May 03, 2011 2:15 am
Oh, everyone annoyed him did they? Cleite snorted softly. Well that explained the unfriendly behavior at least. Perhaps he should have simply taken the hint and left, but something in him didn’t like to do that. If he were truly bothering the other stallion, he would simply ask him to leave. Or tell him to leave. Cleite didn’t smile at the stranger, it was hard to smile into a scowl. But his expression was soft and mild, more friendly than not. He didn’t have to get huffy just because he’d caught someone on a bad day. If they both grumped at each other, then things would only get made worse and he really did not feel like an argument, fight, or any sort of confrontation right now.
But he was hardly being attacked. There was a difference between violence and a lack of warm welcome. Plainly he seemed to have disturbed this stranger, perhaps he was even trespassing in some way. But it didn’t feel right to just say ‘okay’ and then leave. Especially when it looked like this fellow had problems that made his own headache of a relative seem mild in comparison. What ever had happened to him? Some of the marks seemed, to Cle at least, like they might still hurt. They didn’t look fresh but…was he in some kind of trouble? Did he need help? And how was he supposed to ask such a thing without offending the stranger?
“Well I suppose you’re lucky not to have met Pure then,” the wind commented dryly, “He could drive an Angeni to frustration, my cousin. Perhaps I’ll take a bit more time in finding him,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I could use a break from him.” And now he had a bit of an excuse for staying around a while longer. But what was he going to do with this time? If he really was annoying the poor stranger, then wouldn’t it be better to just go? But what if something was wrong? Cle wasn’t the sort to search out more trouble, he had a fair share of that looking after Pure. But then again, he wasn’t the sort to walk away from someone in need either. Not when it seemed possible that he might be able to do something. He wouldn’t know if he didn’t try…right?
And like he’d determined before, if the stranger didn’t want him about, then he would tell him. Or leave himself, though if it came to that Cleite would likely excuse himself. It felt rude to force the other to be the one to go when he was clearly in worse condition than the wind was. And it also felt rude to simply think of him as ‘the stranger’.
“Sorry, my name is Cleite. I should have said that first. Would you mind exchanging your name, so I’ve something to refer to you as that’s a bit more friendly than ‘stranger’?” he asked.
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Posted: Fri Jun 10, 2011 11:12 am
Chandar wasn't entirely sure what to do about the stranger. On the one hoof, he didn't care for the company of others. Ever. He didn't trust strangers and certainly didn't trust males at all. They were brutes, selfish, and often violent and demanding. He didn't like them and didn't like their company. But on the other hoof, this fellow before him wasn't entirely offensive in his behavior or nature. He was being . . . strange. . . odd . . . different. He was being friendly and that was something Chandar wasn't easily accustomed. Of course, past experience was skewed for the stallion. The males he remembered were young and brash, as cruel as he had been, and just as desperate. That was years ago, when he was much smaller and younger. After he had left the rag-tag group, he had kept to himself and worried about no one but himself. So couldn't it be possible not all stallions were to be loathed?
. . . eh. Maybe. But he still didn't trust the other or his intentions. Of course, it was likely all the wind wanted was a drink but then, what if that's what this stallion wanted him to think? To ease him up, to put his guard down, and only then attack! Hmph. Well, Chandar wasn't going to give the win such satisfaction and he gave a slightly annoyed flick of his tail.
He had been through hell and back, multiple times, and it showed. There were scars, both old and new, as well as wounds that spoke of his history. Of course, some of them had happened because he had started the fight, but others had been given due to hard luck and bad positioning. To be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and to never catch a break - it was the story of the stallions life.
Still, Chandar listened to what it was the other male said. A cousin. . . Pure? It sounded as if the other was a bit exasperated himself over the matter. Whoever this other was, Chandar was quite certain he would have really thrown a fit and conniption to meet such a fool. He didn't have time for reckless games or fools, as this Pure sounded. To aggravate an angeni was a lot of work, something even Chandar wasn't sure he could do. "Well it's good he isn't here then. I wouldn't take kindly to his presence," he admitted freely, not at all worried about offending Cleite. "He sounds a bit of a fool." A bit. Hmph. That was Chandar being polite.
What surprised Chandar the most was that Cleite wasn't turning around and heading elsewhere. Usually, strangers didn't stay long in the ebony stallions company. It made sense though, Chandar wasn't warm and welcoming, open or comfortable around others. He didn't smile often or laugh and certainly was gruff and irritable. He didn't do much to be welcoming or gracious and was used to others taking the hint and leaving. It worked out best that way . . .so what was wrong with this wind? Why wasn't he . . .well . . .leaving?
No sane individual subjected himself to Chandar for long. " . . . . if you must know, it's Chandar." He spoke a bit warily, though he did give a nod of greeting. He . . . well okay, he was a douche, but at least he knew some sort of manners. Sort of. Though if Cleite expected him to continue to converse, he was sadly mistaken.
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Posted: Mon Jul 11, 2011 9:02 am
He seemed, well, annoyed this stranger. Not personally as far as Cleite could tell. He didn’t think he had done anything that would aggravate the other stallion. Polite and friendly and, probably more importantly, non-threatening. He did not need a fight, especially not one of his own creation. He had enough problems with trying to rescue his addle-brained cousin from what seemed to be mostly everyone. Finding his own trouble…yeah, no. He did not need that. Not one bit. It was still nice to be able to meet a stranger, and a stallion as well, who wasn’t enraged at Pure for flirting his mate, sister, daughter, whatever.
“No, most do not seem to take kindly to him,” Cleite agreed with a sigh. Well. Mares didn’t seem bothered by him, more the pity really. If they didn’t like Pure, then the flirty stallion wouldn’t have anyone to flirt with. Which might mean he’d spend more time doing things like, say, using whatever it was occupying the space between his ears. “And he is a fool. The worst kind, he refuses to learn from mistakes because he won’t admit he makes them.” The wind huffed angrily, before realizing he’d started to lean in on an angry rant. And while ranting and complaining about the daft womanizing Pure was something that would probably be a bit healthy for him, he had no cause to justify complaining at a near-total stranger. Because that was just…well…
Rude. It was rude. And self-centered. Whining and complaining, when all he had was a sore wing, almost totally fine now, and a life-long headache. This stallion on the other hoof. This stallion looked like he had been through hell. Scars everywhere, and he was so very guarded, there that was the word Cleite had been searching for. It was less open hostility, and certainly the Wind knew a thing or two about what that looked like. Thanks to a certain cousin of his. But to whine when he was clearly not the one who was worst off? Self-centered and annoying. Which would mean he was behaving like Pure. So no, no way, never. Because, honestly, Cleite couldn’t really think of a worse way for an adult to act than that. A fully grown, perfectly normal, healthy adult. He wished he could say ‘mature’ adult, but that ‘m’ word just did not suit for Pure.
A smile, warm and friendly, spread slowly across his features when he finally received a name in exchange for his own. “Well then, Chander, it’s nice to make your acquaintance.” It was more than mere politeness, politeness meant little when not properly meant. It was better than being rude, or crude, or unfriendly. But Cleite meant it, odd as that may seem. It was nice to meet someone who wasn’t angry or upset with him or a certain someone he was responsible for. As far as continuing the conversation, well, if Chander wasn’t about to offer up another topic, Cleite certainly could. “So, are you from these parts? Or just a traveler passing through?” the Wind asked, questions appeared to be working seeing as he had gotten an answer. Maybe he could warm the other stallion up to a mild conversation, and if he asked the right questions he could maybe learn whatever it is that was wrong. Blame looking after his cousin, but he disliked the idea of someone being hurt in some way, or needing some form of help, and having no one there to give it. He couldn’t ask outright, he could already guess he’d get a solid ‘no’ and probably a ‘now go away’. But maybe he could figure out something.
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Posted: Sun Apr 08, 2012 11:25 am
Thankfully, Cleite was in good company, relatively speaking. While the stallion was indeed a guarded individual, he certainly didn't give a damn one way or the other what the wind might say or do. If he wanted to complain about his cousin and the foolishness that was his spirit, than so be it. . . . It really didn't bother him, and he certainly wouldn't have called him out on such a thing. Etiquette and manners really weren't Chandar's strong point.
On the other hoof, if Cleite had fallen in to a need to absolutely vent and complain, it was very likely Chandar would have said nothing and moved on. He wasn't exactly one to sit and listen, he wasn't a good shoulder to cry on because there was very little comfort he could give. Life had been cruel to the blue eyed stallion, and he had absolutely very little sympathy to those who felt like crying over their lot. It could always be worse, and most likely would be, as far as Chandar had figured.
But that was neither here nor there. The stallion -- Cleite -- had moved on and away from his cousin. The fact that he had family at all and was so damn loyal to them was an interesting concept to Chandar. Interesting and bitter, really. He couldn't possibly understand why the wind put himself through the alleged pain of hunting down his trouble maker and fool of a cousin, if all it did was pain him in the end. "Why even follow him, if he is such a mindless fool? He shouldn't be your concern, especially if he grieves you so." He stated with a small snort.
So what if the wind took offense to his words, it was the truth. There really was no reason for the stranger to have to follow his cousin. . . . The fact he was doing so, and seemed to have been for such a long time, was baffling. But then, Chandar was biased -- he had been abandoned, had no parents, no siblings, no relations. He had only his shadow and had to learn the hard way how to stay alive. Tenderness was foreign to him, for the world was naturally not a kind and loving place.
As Cleite continued his conversation, smiling pleasantly at him, and generally being nice, the stallion found himself unsure how to respond or react. Niceness wasn't something he trusted, and despite all the time spent with Beatrix, it wasn't something he accepted easily. Nice to make his acquaintance? Yeah . . sure. . . His long tail gave a dismissive shake, and he pawed idly at the ground, uncomfortable but . . . not quite willing to leave. Yet, at any rate. "I'm a traveler. I don't stick around any one place for long," he finally admitted, seeing no harm in the question. Not many cared to speak to him, just as he didn't much care to speak to others. Still, there was a very small part of Chandar that always had been social, or at least desirous of company, whether he admitted such a thing or not.
No soquili was an island, after all, and if they were than they were likely of kalona or skinwalker blood. Chandar himself was neither.
Unfortunately for Cleite, he was terribly unrehearsed when it came to having an actual legitimate conversation. He did not tack a 'And what about you?' when it came to the wind, but that was mostly because he didn't care to know. Cleite, this blue coated wind, was nobody. . . just a figure, and as soon as the conversation suffered a horrid and awkward end, or until Chandar felt so inclined to leave, they would part ways and that would be that. He wouldn't put up a facade of intrigue when he honestly felt nothing of the sort.
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Posted: Sat Apr 14, 2012 10:22 am
Chandar’s comment about Pure being a mindless fool, which he was, only made Cleite blink because of how he ended it. Why follow him? How could he abandon him? …like… he had… “I… wish it were that simple,” the Wind sighed, shaking his head. “I probably would be better off without him, but now that I don’t know where he is, I can’t help but worry I’ll only find him dead in a ditch somewhere.” Which, given how things often seemed to go down, was probably not all that unlikely. Which was not a thought that made him feel less worried. Actually, now that he was thinking along those lines, he couldn’t help the additional twist of anxiety in his chest. His cousin needed looking after, Aunt ‘kitta would be devastated if anything happened to her obnoxious precious baby.
“You travel too?” Cleite asked, not minding in the least that there had been no ‘and what about you’ tagged on. Really, he barely even noticed. Social etiquette was something he attempted, not something he thought all that much about getting in return. When in doubt, be polite. Getting sarcastic or angry back at whoever it was only made it more likely that he’d get into trouble. Pure didn’t seem to grasp this concept, but Cleite certainly had it figured out! “It’s been a while since I was home, it’s not that I don’t care about my ma or sis, but it’s so fascinating what’s in the rest of the world.” Not to mention, he covered a whole lot more ground while he was running about after his empty-headed cousin. Pure certainly couldn’t be convinced to settle into one place! Not when he’d run out of mares to chase.
Cleite wasn’t sure if he was making the other stallion nervous, or if Chandar were simply pawing because he was restless or figety just on his own. Some had more energy than others after all. Why he had no idea, perhaps it was that they never shook it from foalhood? And there was naught wrong with that! …provided they were a little bit competent in looking after themselves in spite of it. Plenty seemed to be. Pure on the other hand…
…gah, he must be seriously worried. All he could think about seemed to be that pain in his tail! Well, Pure was the one who decided to leave, not Cle. He’d told him he didn’t care anymore, and what had Pure done? Gone and run off straight away, that’s what! So, yes, Chandar had a point. Why did he keep following him around? Was he really just… …’mothering’ should not be the word that came to mind. It just… shouldn’t. But it would do, for a mental comparison. He’d rather not use it aloud. But it would also explain why he was all worried about the health of a near stranger. …maybe he just had a special talent in worrying.
“It can be kind of rough though, not all strange new places are exactly welcoming…” Could he lead this into asking if the other stallion was alright? Could he? Or… was it too soon in the conversation? But if he took too long and Chandar got bored, as Pure always seemed to, he might not get the chance to ask. “I mean, I got my wing messed up pretty bad not too long ago, and you don’t look like the road’s been all rose blooms and peach trees for you either.”
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Posted: Sat Mar 02, 2013 3:39 pm
zephira738 . . I am a horrible human being for taking a year. *fails*
Trust no one.
Be prepared for the worst.
Expect the unexpected.
Perhaps he was too high strung, perhaps he was a bit feral, and goodness knew he certainly was paranoid, but he had every reason to be. He had to fight to make it to this age, and the scars on his body, and his rugged features explained it all. He was alone. He had always been alone, from being a tiny foal and having to fight through the cruelties of the world. He was not at all like this wind. . . .
This wind, this Cleite who spoke of family. The love and devotion he felt for his cousin was clear, for who else would go out of their way simply to seek a troublesome soul? Aunt. . . Mother. . . Sister. Every mention of family relation caused a pang to stab at the green and black stallions heart; every reminder of ties that had never existed, of that foalhood want of acceptance only to have been spurned away by all. No, the bitterness that had once built within him now plagued the stallion. . . . He was unsure if he thought of those, so many soquili who grasped on to bonds unwavering, as lucky or simply fools.
Sure, his life wasn't easy, had never been simple, but. . . . but surely he was the wiser for it. He was alive. He had survived. Hew as strong of body, strong of mind and spirit, and . . . He was the only one he could have ever trusted. He did not need family, did not need friends, did not need any but his own council.
So it was, he said nothing when the stalllion spoke of complications with Pure. He mattered little about what Cleite did, nor did he care for the fool of a wind that he was hunting down. His expression was taught and grim, but he did flick an ear as the stranger inquired about whether or not he traveled. "I do travel, when it suits me." He stated after a long moment, giving a small flick of his tail, and another paw at the ground.
He had no home to return to, no family to worry about. Nothing. He was as free as any creature in this world could be, and it was the only life he'd known.
Fascinating. Was travel fascinating? Chandar stared at the stallion, saying nothing as he listened to the stranger go on about how he just had to be on the move, how he wanted to see the rest of the world. Unlike Cleite, Chandar hadn't had the choice on whether he stayed or roam -- it was simply a means to survive. It was more important as a foal and young adult than it was now, with age and experience on his side. Still, moving had become habit, and one he was not so willing to break. "It is what it is. There are dangers around every corner, and deceit in every soquili you pass. You can't have light without shadow," he added curtly, ignoring the comment about his looks, about the rough nature of his own life.
Yeah, rough knocks were an understatement, especially after somehow surviving a bearwalker attack.
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Posted: Sat Dec 14, 2013 5:23 pm
Deceit in every soquili? Cleite stared at the other stallion, startled and saddened by this sudden revelation of information. If he had any desire to walk away without trying to do something helpful, and he had no idea what he could possibly do beyond that he wanted to at least try regardless of how haltingly the conversation was going, it would have shriveled up and died right then. That was the loneliest thing he could possibly imagine. Trusting no one. No one ever.
“You can't have shadow without light either,” Cle pointed out softly, trying and failing to not appear affected by Chandar's statement. His concern about being a bother had not faded at all, but maybe Chandar needed someone to bother him a little. He certainly couldn't just walk away and forget everything about this stranger, especially not knowing that everyone else probably had. “Not everyone you meet is all bad. Soquili are not all the same you know, there can be dark and light in anyone.”
Pure, for instance. He was obnoxious, short-sighted, selfish, and annoying. But he meant well, and as irritating as the stallion was he was family and Cleite loved him. They mattered to each other, at least a little. Pure had relied on him for help many times... would Pure grow bitter and lonely now that Cleite was no longer there for him? Probably not. But... but hadn't he wanted Pure to learn a lesson about not trusting strangers? Maybe Pure wasn't the featherbrain after all, or at least, not the only one of the pair of them that was. Maybe Cleite should have followed his cousin after that fight. Maybe he should never have given him the option to leave forever. Whatever happened, it would be his fault for doing nothing to stop it. Nothing to help.
He would fine Pure. He would. And then he wouldn't ditch his cousin again. But maybe he could help Chandar too. Maybe Pure wasn't the only one who probably needed him... maybe not him specifically, but someone. Everyone needed someone.
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