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Post by sheatothebay on Oct 13, 2018 13:03:54 GMT -6
 The past few days had been... interesting. The chocolate stallion still couldn't quite wrap his head around things.
He'd been rescued.
He was free.
Bruneau licked his lips again, relishing the feeling of freedom amongst his mouth. No bit. No bridle. He could pick things of his choosing at will. Not just what the magic made him pick up. No, he was free.
The Vindicators had been cordial to the liberated slave, and he'd decided to stay alongside them as he was freed, galloping alongside the massive stampede towards Onean territory. It was near surreal, he mused as his cloven hooves carried him through the Hireathean terrain, greeted by a chilly Spring Onean breeze.
But what he really couldn't get out of his mind, was the rose gray mare he'd seen that night. The fireworks and the chaos of the escaping labor force of Aodh had been insane. He'd galloped near blindly through the pack. But before he'd left the Dark District, he saw the fireworks gleaming off of her silvery coat. The long tasseled tail behind her, the strong yet feminine face gazing across the mass of slaves. The broken horn solidified everything. Eshana. He'd not really known what had happened to her, but good faith determined that she'd definitely made it out of Aodh. She was too strong for that.
His first few days were too hectic to truly seek her out, so he'd decide to not force it. He'd instead walked along, wondering if he'd be so fortunate to see her once again. |
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Post by Mad-Manx on Oct 14, 2018 13:48:25 GMT -6
Eshana vagabond | vindicator "Strong but exhausted."
Post: #1 | Word Count: 535
With Valore's oppressive walls rapidly fading in the distance, Eshana felt as though she could finally breath again.
She hadn't known if their plan would work, and her doubts had never been stronger than the moment when they had stood before that chevalier, hoping, praying, with bated breath that he would believe their ruse. For a heart stopping moment she had wondered if Aodh would lay claim to her soul again. No doubt they would not make the mistake of allowing her to live as a labour slave again.
The Smugglers were angered by their actions, the Vindicator understood that much. And perhaps they should have told their allies of their plan to torch the Dark District, but Eshana also knew the misplaced love they held for their city would be their downfall. They couldn't have risked them raising the alarm; not when the lives of so many Vindicators were at risk, not to mention the many slaves they had roused to follow them.
Eshana's heart swelled at that thought, casting a glance behind her towards the hundreds of bodies that trudged onward. Many of them -including herself- were hungry and exhausted, but more importantly, they were free. She knew all too well the overwhelming sense of elation that simple fact entailed; and though some had already peeled away in order to pick up the pieces of their former lives, many others still had to be escorted to the safe houses, and some to even join arms with the Vindicators themselves.
Some of the faces Eshana was happy to say she recognized. The life of a labour slave was all too short, and to watch those she had come to know and care for live to see their freedom was an invigorating experience. Eshana had't found herself with much time to mingle with them, not as she aided her comrades in ushering them out of Eithne's borders, but at last she felt as though she didn't need to constantly watch her back. The Chevaliers weren't coming; the suffocating weight had been lifted from her chest, and perhaps it was simply her imagination, but even the air seemed sweeter as they left Valore behind. Less and less like metal and ash.
Eshana's pale blue teke reached out, tucking in the cloak that billowed around her. The air was chillier now that they had crossed into Sirith- or was it Onea by now? Though her tracking skills had managed to improve over the few months she had spent with the Vindicators, it was far from perfect.
The final claws of winter still clutched at the land, the effects of which were only worsened by their progression northwards. It was almost strange how quickly she had come to accept and relish the slight bitterness to the wind; it felt like home.
Eshana's gaze flicked back over the sea of legs and flanks, eyes seeking any form of familiar face in the crowd. It still felt surreal to have managed to secure freedom for so many individuals at once, and she had to admit a part of her sought out someone to confide in, a grounding force to tell her this was real, somehow, someway, they'd actually done it.
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Post by sheatothebay on Oct 15, 2018 7:49:36 GMT -6
B R U N E A U
I wouldn't say I'm driven
I wouldn't say I'm brave
I work with what I'm given
And try to keep the faith
2 | 369
Bruneau sighed as he trekked forward, passing carefully next to another smaller horse trudging along. They exchanged an exhausted but relieved look, noting each others' brands, and blinking with acknowledgement to each other as the stocky stallion pulled past. Freedom wasn't the excited nickers and and prancing and galloping out of Eithne.
Freedom was a head free from a nasty metal bit and plain bridle. It was having the freedom to look and walk along. It was being able to race away in the direction of home, if the word still held meaning. Freedom was a smile to a friend who you'd endure the grueling life of a labor slave alongside. It was pegasi being able to start letting their clipped wings grow out. It was hippocampi being able to take on their true forms as Cascade designed them. It was unicorns knowing that maybe, maybe, their horn will stop being such a small filed or broken nub.
The brands marked them all as survivors. As fugitives. As the strongest horses Bruneau could ever imagine knowing.
As the heavy stallion kept trudging forward, he found himself near the front of the pack, his stride extended and quietly passing those around him. Exhaustion shocked his hooves every step, but he chose to ignore it. He'd been through worse. The ground was soft and easier on his aching body here, rather than the cobbled Eithne. His green eyes were rather downcast as he pushed forward, but a glance up gave him a moment to survey the horses around him.
And he saw the same rose gray coat that he had that fateful night.
"Eshana," he breathed. He trotted forward, this time calling her name. He wasn't sure if she would claim him the same, but she had been a confidant and even a best friend to the horse who lived most of his life as a servile and thrown into the labor force. He had a moment now. He would take it, he decided as he called her name again. |
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