Desreal: in which there is some rambling, some paranoia, and an obsession; SKYLAR

"...and sometimes our soft edges would talk to each other."
-Paul McCartney

There are things that Saga is. And there are things that he is not.

Well, duh. But it’s more than that, really. It may not always be black and white like that. Sometimes it’s ‘Saga can be this, and he can be that, but he isn’t this today, and he won’t be that tomorrow.’ Do you know what I mean? Saga is a horse. This doesn't change. Saga can be a jerk. That never used to change, but it seems to be changing now. This place has already changed him more than he would like – and I’m referring to Desreal that is – and he’s wary of the jungle’s siren call. It has already trapped him into bad memories of his past, and led him to what he believed to be a figment of his imagination. Our bay colt isn't sure what to do with this new information, or how to present himself anymore. He knows that Desreal is not the place to be but - he can’t seem to stay away, though, especially when he knows, he just knows that Nicodemus’ daughter is here somewhere. How does he know? Paranoid, Saga looks around for the Phoenix that had flown with Nicodemus. Was that blasted thing going to leap out at him and burn him? Why was it that Saga had been so inclined to follow it? Shaking his head free of these thoughts (so reminiscent of when he was mad, back when he was a boy finally growing into his looks), Saga hesitates on three legs, the fourth in a half-step forward into the jungle. He shouldn't, but he will.

Ask, you might as well. How does our desert pony know about Skylar? He's not psychic (not even elemental yet, tch!) and nor did Nicodemus tell him about the pretty filly that was his daughter. No, the only reason that Saga knows is because he's smart and he listens. Meeting the fire-stallion had incited an - oh, what shall we call it? - an obsession with Nicodemus, and all things connected to him. So perhaps he'd been snooping; it was something he was quite adept at, you know. Just sort of loiter by the way, looking away but one ear always perked towards the conversation. Granted, he hasn't got a clue what this 'Skylar' looks like, but Saga is confidant that when he sees her he'll know her. She's got to be like Nicodemus, hasn't she? Full of power and maybe a sort of sadness, like her father. The big bay stallion jigs nervously away from the desert and deeper into the jungle, feeling his muscles tense and his neck curl as he slithers onwards. Away, away, farther away from all the hustle and bustle (since Desreal is the place where the other three herd come and talk quite often) and deeper to more secluded places. Not lost though, no, let's not get lost, dear Saga.

Really, he stumbles upon her by accident. He might have walked right by, but she's such a startling color (to our boy, that is) that he had to pause and gawk for a moment. She's pretty, very pretty, being that funny yellow color and having a long mane and a feminine face. Of course, Saga isn't really a connoisseur of women - the only women he really knew were his mother and his sister. One might apply Fruedian law here: if Saga were to be attracted to someone, would they be like the women in his life? Hm, we have Illiana (figure one) and Alyss (figure two). Yes, Saga is going to have a wonderful love life.

To get back on track - no, Saga isn't oogling this mare because he wants to have his wild way with her, but merely because she's interesting. She reeks of power, too, not unlike Nicodemus, only her power is .. softer, somehow, not as sharp and stinging. He slides nearer to her, watching her with his pale eyes. Maybe her..? It is worth a shot, in his opinion. "Hullo," he says, a simple enough greeting. There will be no 'madams' or 'miss's for her, no bowing to her beauty or even charming smiles. Saga just kind of tilts his head and gives her a sharp look - not mean, just... sharp. "What's your name, then?" It's a lazy question, one that rolls off his tongue fairly easily. He's been asking that a lot of people, or sometimes just announcing their name to them (as if they didn't already know). "Uh," Saga squints against the sun, which has chosen to break free of the clouds and shine down on them, "I'm Saga," he offers, like throwing a bone to a dog. Sorry Skylar, he never learned his manners when he was a colt.

SAGA
you had your chance to touch the stars
you took your lucky break and broke it in two