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et la vie amait la mort
Whatever feelings she might of held earlier, they faded into slow oblivion, falling into pace with the rest of the group. A typically social animal, the conversations that occasionally fluttered about the group suited her. She'd given in to Narcisse, allowing the kit to sleep quietly atop the ridge of her back, finding a comfortable place to rest on her hindquarters.
In order to confine to the feelings of the group, she kept herself natural, letting the low amounts of heat given by the early Orangemoon sun warm her pale coat.
Problems had been scarce. If they existed, then she hadn't paid much attention to them, caught up purely in the romancing of calm socialization, a break from the verbal warfare they made against one another, fighting with swords made of words and personal greed. Yes, she had gone to the level that they all rested at, but what was the price of wanting to be something great? To have a name for one's self?
Kings and Queens, Emperors, Dictators, Warlords, all of them alike, had done something dirty and low to gain their thrones and keep it. Every social class had to bring themselves down to the lowest levels of the peasantry at some point in order to become great.
When it did finally arise, the issue, it came in a way that sent chills down her spine. Verlaine wasn't made for the sea. The idea of crossing the water made her uncomfortable, skin erupting in goosebumps.
Now reduced to pawing the sand, she watches in some sort of horror as the painted mare flies across the waters, carried away by flames risen from the depths of hell.
Was she taking the throne from some sort of demon?
As luck would have it, a boat fell into her favour, watching a tiger-like mare head towards it. While the notion might be a rude thing to do, what were her other objects? Flying with the Devil's powers when you weren't meant to, weren't born to.... It was all too unnatural and she preferred the idea of something more...
Normal.
"Excuse me?" Her faint words whisper across the still, quiet air, watching as the others pass over the waters with the fire. A few yards keep the distance between her and the other mare apart. "Would it be too much to ask if I could ride across with you in your boat? I'm not much for the flying." A cringe sweeps over her frail, feminine features at the idea of flying. Would the flames inflict burns? Would she be scarred by taking a chance and trusting something that was never meant to be trusted?
Fire was uncontrollable, forever wild and free, a raging beast that struck out and left hateful marks on anything that attempted to make a try at controlling it. Fire didn't want to be controlled.
So why put faith into the flames that could turn and kill in a split second, only to return to a peaceful, serene and majestic appearance shortly after?
An embarrassed, thankful smile crosses her lips at the acceptance of her needs. "Merci. You're awfully kind." The small muzzle turns and pushes into Narcisse's small form, pressing into his body to wake the child. "Réveiller, mon cherie." A yawn escapes the boy, stretching short, white legs across the mare's rump.
She checks with her ship mate, slowly wading out in the water. The cool feeling strikes a shiver across her skin as Narcisse whines, unwilling and fearful of the idea of becoming soaked. Unsteadily, a thin leg is laid into the boat, climbing in with a noise of fear and surprise escaping her only once. Her body pushed itself into the bottom, saving room for her companion.
Violet eyes watch with curiosity as the other femme climbs in and pushes them out, gasping into surprise before a light chuckle passes her lips. A nod graces the trio as she's given directions.
The silence is unsettling, staring upwards at the other flying beings and questioning their trust and courage. Words strike and shatter the still, and she almost thanks Maren for it.
It wasn't exactly something that she had expected, what came out of the Diviner's mouth.
Verlaine found herself caught off-guard. The others seemed so heart set on the idea of enternal peace, of avoiding blood shed at all costs. The whole idea seemed cowardly, but then again, she'd come from a very different place compared to them.
"I apologize. I never intended to strike fear; it happens to be the last of my wants on my list." Guilt hits her in a rough fashion, Narcisse lifting a tired head towards his sister in confusion. His bonded's feelings were too foreign, too aged for him to understand yet.
"I don't want to go to war, but war, how can you avoid it? It's always going to be there. We'll always disagree with one another over something foolish, and when the frustration and annoyance builds up, we'll want war. We'll want vengenance for crimes done to our families and people so that we don't seem weak and cowards. Everyone wants to be strong, but to avoid war, we need to appear strong." Brief eye contact is made, hoping that her words make some sort of sense in the language she was still rather unsure of. "I want to be ready for it, because some day it'll happen. I want to triumph, to put pride in the hearts of those below me. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
The boat bumps into the orange sands, the red and white mare looking out at the beach. Narcisse begs to touch the sands, reminded of what it was like to frolic in the paler sands to the North.
Slowly, Victomesse and boy step out, shaking on weak legs once they came in contact with the harder earth.
When she checks back with Maren, a feeling of warmth gives the urge of confidence that she desperately needed. "Again, merci. You're much too kind. If we meet again, you're free to call me Vera." Returning the smile, she collects her canter and propels herself up the slope towards the others, entering their gathering and stepping into place.
The quest is simple.
Save your herd from stravation from the aid of your ally(?) to the South, convincing them to part with something to free the pair.
Verlaine's eyes study Gaucho's appearance, brows drawing together in a tight, tense knot as she 'admires' his rather odd looks. In the process, the idea tumbles over in her head like a stone, trying every new side and looking for new spaces that might be to her aid.
In the end, she went with the basics.
"As we are all aware of the drought, there is a shortage of food. Water is low. Friends, family members, lovers, children, my people and family, they're all affected. Rumour has told me that there is food that could aid my people. I come to you to ask for aid. In return, in the time of great wealth, I will be sure to aid your family with a great deal of herbs, military might in a time of need, and immediate return of aid may the dark chances be that your family is plagued by some unfortunate issue such as the one mine is currently facing.
"I would do the same for your family and any other family in the land, regardless of alliances and hatred that might be set down. A dying people in one place is just as depressing and unsettling as the dying being those within your home."
[Maren]
