young folks, rembrandt

[lamb ♥]

Julien as a young and especially slender boy enjoyed many things, but in the end they could all, essentially, be boiled down to a dichotomy of sorts: what concerned his mother, and what concerned the rather vast enigma that was his father. You see, he had been born very far from the place that eventually he might call home – his mother had left the soft and sun-smitten waters of the bayou for the trees of Hortelana and he had been born there beneath their dappled shade, entertained by rabbits hiding in their warrens beneath the earth and the lilting songs of bluebirds. He did not know of Gavril, or how his mother had been momentarily infatuated with its King. He did not know of the guilt that drove her from the Spanish moss and the dragonflies that had entranced her the first hour she had set foot within that glistening territory. He knew only that she was his mother, and that she loved him terribly and kept no secrets, and that was how he lived his life from that point on: oblivious, and quite satisfied with it.

Of course, as these things tend to go, no young boy, regardless of how slender they are, is going to simply sit and stew in the comforts of their home when there is a world beyond the orchard to explore and conquer. So as soon as Daisy had turned her pretty head the other way, Julien secreted himself away through the underbrush, his small white hooves bounding through the lush spring grass and over the boundary between the Freelands (he did not know, either, that he was a rebel) and the Great Woods. The gradually changing earth fascinated him, and he spent much time marking such insignificant things as the taste of the wind, the color of the flowers, largely ignoring the way that the ground beneath his feet slowly gave away to marsh until he was literally up to his knees in the green-tinged spirit of the wetland. “Well,” he said rather quietly and with a hint of a frown, lifting up a foreleg to inspect the dirt now clinging to his, until then, rather clean ankles, “That's a bit of a bother, isn't it?”


HUDLEYYYY

[Hud]

How could anyone be as happy as Rembrandt was in that exact instant?

His son was back! The yellow colt had grown beautifully throughout the duration of his trip - he was now a fully grown stallion. Remy couldn't be prouder of Landry. He remembered the first day he'd spent without his company - it was practically torture to not be able to look down at his side and see the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed yearling beside him, ready to learn. Even Tiana had had a difficult time without him. Now that he was back, things could go back to normal.

Rembrandt practically pranced through the muck beneath him. Things were looking up for everyone. As spring rolled in, so did baby birds and the like. Remy wasn't even discouraged by the baby reptiles now lurking beneath the swamp. Nothing could bring his spirits down. In fact, he even saw fit to fill the bayou with song, as he often did. "Thibodeaux, Fontainenot, de place is buzzin’! Kinfolk come'ta see Yvonne by de dozen! Trot in style 'n' go hog wild, me oh my oh! Ches'nut or dun, we’ll have big fun on de bayou!" His words were rather slurred as sang in his throaty tone, his eyes closed and his head swinging back and forth. Remy knew these lands - he didn't need to watch where he was going. That was what his ears were for.

They did their jobs well today as Rembrandt's song was cut short of him spouting out another verse. It was a young voice, not too far off. In fact, with the flattening of a nearby shrubbery, Rembrandt got a good look at the fellow. He supposed he could've expected running into something this close to the boundary. He was a good ways away and he looked a little lost. With an excited and high whoop, he greeting the young horse.

"Hoooo, where you goin', joon-yah? Ah nevah seen you befo'!" His voice was inviting and joyful - as per usual. "You alone?"

OOC: Ahhhh Remy muse. C: Oh yeah, that song is real but I tweaked the lyrics a little. Those first two words are names.