[oh the rain, how it tenderly falls]

[s o y ღ]

Her metallic-y golden coat was stretched taught over her ribs, allowing glimpses of them to show through as she walked carefully through the trauma-struck landscape. It was supposed to be the healthy look for a mare of her conformation and breed, thin so you could see what lay under the surface. After all, Sezja didn't get much food back home. It was always scarse, but her ancestors had adapted to it. She could survive, and she prided herself for that. She didn't need food and water all the time, she could go without for a while. Just like those desert horses; only better. She possessed speed and endurance; while those pretty little arabs could only claim to endurance.
Not that it mattered here; not that she could even brag about how good of a horse she was. Not like she knew how.

Sezja gave the hole in the middle a wide berth, avoiding all chances of getting hurt. Those were very low chances, or so she thought. This land looked so torn up and ragged that she doubted very many horses--if any at all--lived here. She wouldn't be surprised if she was the only inhabitant of this island, and it wouldn't bother her. The buckskin was more of a loner, looking out for herself and herself only. It wasn't that she couldn't be a social horse, it was mainly that she didn't know how to be. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk and laugh with others--it was that she had no clue what to say, or even what they were saying.
She didn't even speak much Chinese; she didn't speak much of anything. Only a mix of English and Chinese, and sometimes she accidentally threw in a chinese word, though she tried to keep it strictly English. And that was not as easy as it seemed. Sezja even spoke some Russian, too, but only three or four words. Not very impressive.
Black tail fanned out behind her as she picked up a floating trot, edging away from the crumbling ground behind her and seeking a seemingly safer place in the shade of a barren tree. She reached up and plucked off one of the only leaves on it, chewing it slowly as to draw out the flavor and fillingness. The grass didn't look all that tempting under her feet, but there was a patch a little farther away that might look semi-appetizing. The Akhal-teke stepped away from the little tree, dropping her head down low to avoid hitting herself on a low-hanging branch. She grabbed a few mouthfuls of grass. A hind leg rested as she relaxed, but not entirely. The scent of other horses bothered her nostrils, and she shook her head repeatedly to try to get it away from her.

From somewhere far away, a peal of thunder came after a lightening bolt's crack. A few raindrops stained her golden hide, but that only gave it more of a shine. Sezja closed her eyes a moment, remembering the bumpy boat ride with the spray of the ocean coming from all directions as the boat sank. She stood equally on all four hooves now, and raised her head to the heavens as more clouds rolled in.
A raindrop hit her in the middle of her forehead. There was no shelter from a rainstorm out here. That was fine, she didn't mind rain. It actually felt quite good on such a humid day.

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that ship sank and i wasn't going down with it

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[..!INZ.z]

♠..

take these brokenWiNGS
i'm gonna take these brokenWiNGS
and learn to f l y
and learn to f l y away.

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It seemed he and Silk were not fated to get along.
Already he was regretting what had been said. Already he was wishing he could apologize, that things could go back. But he was too proud, and he understood vaguely that there was no back to go to. In all his bitterness, in all his morose, rejected, pitiful being, he had been so focused inward that he could not see what was placed directly before him. He was sorry for what had happened between him and Silk, he was sorry they could no longer look upon each other like they were friends. But he had determined not to look back, not to wish to be back: for the past two years he had obsessed over the ghosts at his heels, and now it was time for him to get over himself.

Time for a fresh start.

The clouds were probing dramatically across the sky that was their theatre: their low-swung bellies were the curtains, the tremulous rain and poised thunder waiting to perform. Thick fingers of shadow lay accusing across the disturbed grass; they ran from the trees, the rocks, the distant hillside, until they were consumed by the vast, gaping fissure, swamped in inky black. All was silent, but the plains were smothered with that oppressive apprehension, that stillness shot through with shivers of half-movement, that great weight which always proceeds a storm.

The raindrops wormed against his stolid frame, little bullet holes of wet darkness. A few despondent flies still whirred with intrepid hope about his person, but they were quickly dispelled by snapping curves of flaxen tail; and besides, a bite or two was not likely to kill him. A fresh droplet landed with an explosion of spectrum colour upon his nose, trickling across his quivering nostrils to settle upon his lips. The stallion shook his head, dislodging yet more of the tiny shards of water; his gaze wandered past the swathes of shivering grass, boring into the stark silhouette of a lone tree. He had never minded rain, yet neither was it his desire to be drenched: besides, lightning had always... unnerved him, slightly.

Not that he would admit that to anyone, of course.

So as casually as he could manage Ruben began to pick his way through the saw-toothed grasses, awarding the greedy grin in the ground a wide berth as he walked. He was certain a Dark would proclaim the belches of steam wafting up from its depths to be the breath of Satan, or what have you - whatever it was, the palomino was quite sure it was hot, and he had no wish to be burned at that exact moment.

The searing flash of forked lightning blinded him for half a second: the lagging thunder growled as he started involuntarily and threw up his head. Cursing himself, the palomino plunged forward, dipping his head to avoid the welcoming sweep of a branch. Under the canopy it was cool and dank, thrumming with the clicks of leaves and the tally of falling water. Again Ruben shook his head, brow creased with irritation. He was like a colt, jittering at distant flashes in the sky.

It was only then that he noticed her.

His senses really must be dimming, he reflected, that he had not seen her before. The mare stood a little way off, on the other side of the far-spreading tree. She didn't seem to mind the rain: in fact, she was standing happily amid it. Despite himself, despite the urge to leave and find somewhere more deserted, he found himself watching her curiously. Her build was the complete opposite to his - where Ruben was stocky, muscular, compact, she was slight and light-boned, skin bound tightly to her bones and wiry muscle. Her coat bore the metallic sheen Ruben had seen on a certain breed of horse he knew came from the distant reaches of Asia, though he could not remember the name.

He looked away. To continue looking would have required starting a conversation, and the words were dead on Ruben's lips.
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[s o y ღ]

More raindrops found their way onto her quickly darkening pelt, than ran in little rivets down her barrel and to her legs, creating stripes much like that of a zebra, only thinner. Like her.
Sezja stomped her hoof into the marshy ground, looking at the imprint for a moment when she removed her foot from the tiny hole she'd made. Ears flicked towards in then back into a relaxed position. She jumped quickly out of that. Another horse was here.
It was all she could do to keep from spazzing and jumping up, legs sticking in a million directions. She barely managed to stay still, but then she froze over. She felt like a rabbit, and the stallion was the fox hunting her. She was trying to blend in with her surroundings, to use her natural camoflouge like a rabbit had. But alas--Sezja was a Russian horse. She possessed none of the chameleon-like skills that she needed, and she could feel his eyes on her shining body.
Why, oh why must she glimmer like that? The good news was that while a few raindrops might make her shine more, when she was drenched she would be as dull as a tree trunk. And she was getting closer to that with every second, with every tear drop from the clouds.

Sezja realized she was trembling slightly, but not enough so that the palomino could notice it. She was not a very good rabbit. Notorious almond-shaped eyes darted to the corners to get a good look at this intruder without turning her head. She was still trying to use her rabbit cover-up, though she kenw for sure it wasn't working. The first thing that she noticed was how his creamy mane fell, how long it was and how soft it looked, even if it was a bit tangled and matted from running wild, like hers. It just seemed... friendly, even if the expression on his face wasn't. No, she shouldn't think that. Yes, the expression on his face wasn't exactly warm and welcoming, but it wasn't shunning her away, either. That was already a star in her book.
The buckskin tried to persued her twitching muscles to relax and turn towards the stallion. It took a good minute for her system to calm down, but she was quickly enough staring straight back at him. Well, he wasn't looking at her anymore. She took a quick glance at his sturdy frame, saw his slightly stocky build. He was nearly as tall or as tall as her--she couldn't tell from the distance. Still, it wasn't the height and weight issue that would bother her and knaw at the edges of her mind. It was the interaction part.
She stood timidly, dropping her gaze to the wet ground below her as she waited for him to say something.
They normally waited to hear her accent, or her lack of english etiquette to sblack person and whisper among one another. It was probably a good thing he was here alone. Each passing second took its toll on her, her heart beating too quickly.
Sezja knew what was coming--the ridicule, the odd looks, as if she was from an entirely different planet.

The mare shifted her weight, resting on a different hind leg than before. She wanted to tell the stallion to get on with it, get it over quickly.

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that ship sank and i wasn't going down with it

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[..!INZ.z]

Now it seemed she was staring at him.
Ruben resolved not to look back, in the hope that eventually she would wander off and he would not have to endeavor to strike up a conversation. His gaze fluttered blankly over the dank grass, the rocky lip of the chasm, the putrid sky which broiled overhead; the greystreaked scene seemed dull and lifeless when compared to the living, breathing, solid form of another horse only five strides away, and he found his eyes snagging earnestly in their sockets to see if she was still there.

It was perhaps a little pathetic. And it sounded dismal, even when the faintest idea of it drifted unformed into the depths of his consciousness: but the truth was, the palomino was desperately lonely. People did not seem to talk to him anymore, whether because they found his state of mind dreary and irritating, or whether they just did not have the patience to converse with a solitary stallion who seemed to have lost the ability to smile. Depression was mocked at, disregarded, by many - but it appeared to be what the stallion was tumbling into.

He had tried to remedy himself of it. He had tried to tell himself he was being pathetic, he was being dreary and dismal and irritating - but logical though this was, his mind deflected the sense of it and continued as it was. Perhaps he was making excuses for himself. That was probable, thinking about it. He always had shunned the blame onto something else when he couldn't cope with the consequences.

Ruben snorted harshly. His lashes tangled and sprung apart as he blinked, attempting to clear his half-thinking head. A narrow stream of water flooded down his spine and he shivered, skin convulsing violently as he shook himself. Again the thunder murmured, deep and throaty and casting echoes to every direction. The palomino glanced up at the sky distrustfully. Just seeing the remains of Dreaver was enough to cause anyone to be cautious of the weather, and now Ruben was even more wary of what the skies could toss down.

Slowly, each inch a tearing of doubt, he turned his head to gaze back at the mare. She was watching the ground now, but her whole body was still racked with tension: like a deer caught in headlights every muscle seemed sprung, every tendon pulled tight. He supposed he had appeared a little randomly - but if it were any consolation, he would not be there at all if he had known of her presence.

He snorted, but it came out more of a strangled choke. His mouth was dry, but he knew he had to say something. Anything.

"Uh... Would you- I mean, I'm sorry, but- Would you talk to me? Please?" He knew how pathetic that sounded before the words were even off his tongue. But it didn't matter, because right then Ruben was too desperate to care how isolated he sounded.

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[s o y ღ]

Sezja jumped as a particularly loud roll of thunder sounded, not too far off. She gave up her frozen act, knowing that it would get her no where soon. The palomino was not blind, by the looks of it, and no horse could be so stupid as to not see at 15.2 hand, shiny horse standing in the middle of a flat land. It didn't matter what nationality they were from, they would see her, and see her anxiety. They would smell the fear, and they would prey on it. She tried to relax. It wasn't working all that well, especially as a lightening bolt cracked far too close to Sezlan Plains, making her shake even visibly now. She had never been too fond of storms, and with this new horse close by, it wasn't looking any better.
Her heart pounded like mad inside her ribcage, threatening to break out and run screaming like she wanted to do. Under current situations, though, that would probably Be Very Unwise to do. The grass was slippery, and there were hidden booby traps in this large death trap of an island ( please remind me why she came here ) that were just waiting for some un-cautious horse to come barreling through, so they could get them. No, if Sezja had a death wish, then she might turn and flee. But if she wanted to survive, then it would be a good thing to just stay and take whatever the stallion would give.

Her blood ran cold as she realized that he was a stallion. Eyes widened as she looked around for some sign of where she was. This wasn't the breeding grounds, was it? Was he a dark? Was he going to rape her, force breed her? Even if this wasn't the breeding grounds, he could force here wherever he damn well pleased. And that frightened her. But of course he wasn't a dark. No, of course. Darks always were... well, what? She had no clue. She knew not the ways of this strange country, nor how to tell an alliance apart. She stuck herself with lights because that's where she figured she'd fit in best, from what the horses on the boat had had to say. Sezja looked through a matted forelock at him, then dropped her gaze once more to the soggy ground.
Well, maybe she should just start walking away now. It didn't seem as if the other had anything to say, and perhaps she could slip away unnoticed. Or not.

His words stopped her as she started to turn away, and Sezja turned back, trying her best to understand. She heard him sort of fumbling on his words, though she could not comprehend why. Her ears and mind trapped the stallion's voice, replaying what had been said over and over again, trying to make heads or tails out of it. No luck. She could get the last part, maybe. Was he asking if she would talk? If she could talk? Yes, she could do that.
But the beginning part? What was he saying? Was it some sort of code she was supposed to know, supposed to be able to break without even thinking about it? Was she supposed to say something witty back and walk over to him and laugh and chat like a normal horse?
Well, I'm sorry, stallion, but Sezja is not that talented. The buckskin took a deep breath and steadied herself, pushing down the rising panic that was choking her throat.
"I'm sorry, I do not understand."
Her accent was heavy on her words, sort of muddling them a bit so they weren't as clear as they were supposed to be.

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that ship sank and i wasn't going down with it

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[..!INZ.z]

His heart sank like a stone.
Even before she spoke, even before she opened her mouth, Ruben knew she could not understand. The confusion in her eyes, the twitching of her ears; he could almost see her trying, and failing, to decipher his garbled speech. Perhaps it was for the best. His desperate plea wasn't something the average mare wanted to hear from a stallion. He had been frenzied, it had slipped out - and now, somehow, he almost felt better for it.

But that did not change the situation: whatever he said now, his words would fall on deaf ears. Ruben sighed, averting his gaze for what seemed the umpteenth time that day. Maybe he should go now. He could make his way back to Bell Vayle - he was sure there must be a few more equines there by now. Perhaps, if any of the surrounding lands had been claimed, he could ask for shelter there. It would be hard, being a mere herd member when once he had been lord over all of it. But being here as a herd member was better than not being here at all; he was home, at last.

But wait. Why was he thinking of leaving, of wandering off as if nothing had happened? This mare was as alone as him, and to his knowledge she didn't have a place she could go. It was all assumption, of course, but looking at her the palomino could only see a lonely creature in a sea of aliens. The old, chivalrous spark of his former self kindled and glowed, and all those Lightish principles he had thought forgotten swarmed back into his mind. He wanted to help her, even though he didn't know if she needed help or not. It was the right thing to do.

So, hesitantly, endeavoring not to startle her, the palomino moved a few steps closer. He kept his head low, body movements carefully drained of instinctive masculine show. He was hardly likely to teach her the whole English language in a mere afternoon, but he hoped he could clear things up a little. "Alright.."

"What's your name?" He asked, ironing out the kinks of his natural accent as he spoke. Perhaps he might need to start off a little simpler, just to get an idea of how much she could speak. "I'm Ruben," he started again, emphasizing his own name. "You?"

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[s o y ღ]

She stood timidly and watched him with her eyes, watching all the expressions that crossed his face. At first, it looked like he was going to leave. Relief relaxed her for a moment, but down deeper she knew that she wanted someone to talk to her. To try and understand her; to at least make that little effort.
Was that too much to ask for? Apparently.
Sezja was prepared to feel alone once more as he looked like he was going to turn and go along on his way, doing whatever it was english-speaking stallions did these days. Her brow furrowed and she ended up being the one turning away, thinking.
She was trying to think of a greeting to give the next horse who she happened to stumble upon, something that would let them know she was different, but friendly. Yeah. Or something.
The rain was pounding harder against her head, and was not helping. What was normally a soothing melody to the mare was now distracting and irritating. Golden ears tipped with flakes of pure coal were backwards for a moment, but not exactly pinned. Her alert senses had told her the stallion behind her hadn't left, yet, and she didn't want to get him mad by making him think that she was angry with him. Because then maybe he'd attack her, or something. She really didn't know the strange ways of these horses very well.
Sezja shook her head to rid herself of the rainwater running past her long lashes and into her eyes.

It was then his voice touched her ears again, and she was turned around faster than the blink of an eye. The buckskin stared at him as he spoke, trying to read the expression in his face, but the rain muddled her view too much. She couldn't see much, so she simply stood there and listened to the best of her ability. His slow, accurate words were very easy for her to understand. A different kind of relief slowed her heartbeat from the crazy pounding. A sort-of smile actually touched her lips for a moment.
Ruben.
She tried the name out slowly, quietly, in a whisper. It felt easy and natural. Maybe she could do this, after all.
"Hello, Ruben, I am Sezja." That seemed to be very short.
But, hey, what else could she do? She would wait to be spoken to until she would talk again. There was some rule about that, wasn't there?
She thought there was.

[ooc] Ugh. So short, sorry... [/ooc]

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that ship sank and i wasn't going down with it

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[..!INZ.z]

The seconds slipped past him agonizingly. His breath slowed, grating in his throat as he watched her: would she turn away and leave him here, thinking him some half-deranged creature? Did she even comprehend what he was saying? He found himself searching her features, silhouetted as they were, for any sign, any form of clue that would tell him his words were registering. But when before her confusion had seemed as plain as spring blossom, mapped out across her face, he could now discern no clue.

Ruben shifted his weight. The rain hammered on, the meagre protection of the tree now failing to offer him any cover. His new-penny coat was now stained a deep, tarnished bronze; his forelock lay in thin, flaxen straggles plastered to his neck. As of yet the chill had not set in, but he could feel the first shivers scurrying down his marrow; he glanced left and right absently, though he knew Sezlan was quite devoid of shelter. In the distance the plains fell away to rocky outcrop and thicket, but he knew it would not be exactly advisable to seek cover that way: Rhapsody Thicket wasn't exactly the place to stay in the rain.

The thought curved his lips a little, but soon the expression vanished. Sezja had stirred. She said something, but it was spoken in the softest of undertones and he failed to hear. Before he could ask, though, the mare had opened her mouth and careful, defined words were rolling from her tongue.

She had understood.

"Hello, Sezja." He didn't know why, but to Ruben this felt like a major victory. He grinned hugely, eyes shining like those of an immature colt; he didn't care. It was inexplainable, but he just felt so pleased that he had actually done something right. For once.
Now he had to decide what to say next. His brows furrowed ever so slightly as he considered it: now that they had overcome the obstacle of learning each other's names, he wasn't sure what to say next.

Eventually he began, as slowly and clearly as before. "Where do you come from?"
He had the inclination that this was going to take rather a long time.

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