"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
08-07-2015, 12:14 PM (This post was last modified: 08-07-2015, 12:28 PM by Emmerly.)
Spring blends into summer all too quickly.
In the meadow lands, the sound of crickets is a constant background to the transition. The little boy finds them marvelous creatures. He chases them up and down the hills, his own legs springing in pursuit as theirs’ do. Of course, he doesn’t always quite have the mastery of movement like they do. He’s only a few months old, after all. Just as often as not, Eldrian finds himself tripping over his gangly, black legs. He sprawls across the grass, rising and recovering every time sporting a toothy grin at his own misfortune.
He’s a happy boy and an easy boy, and Emmerly already loves him as her own. She watches him now, a faint smile curving her pink lips. Becoming a mother has never been an aspiration of her’s. She always imagined herself a fighter to the very end – a warrior without attachments, besides the land she’s pledged herself to.
But the star-crossed morning of Eldrian’s birth had changed everything. The painted woman had come across the metal lady in the late stages of labor. She’d helped her through it, though she had no idea what she was talking about, really. She’d learned the circumstances of the child’s conception, learned that Jason was the father, and learned why Talulah was desperate to keep it a secret… And as she watched Eldrian emerge into the coppery light of morning, a chocolate-colored mass of limbs and soft eyes, she learned that, not only did she want a child, but it’s exactly what she’d been missing out on until that moment. The two women had made an agreement. Emmerly would be his mother for all intents and purposes, but Talulah would visit under diplomatic pretenses. She loved him, too, and leaving the dark boy had been the hardest decision she’d ever made.
“Eldrian!” Her deep voice booms over the hills separating them, a resounding bass that has his head popping up instantly. He knows what it means, and with joyful abandon, the bay colt leaps to her side. He beams up at her, dark lashes framing his buttery eyes. “Yes Mamma?” Emmerly’s fighter-heart stirs at the moniker – only he can soften her so much. “Let’s wander to the Mother Tree, shall we? See what everyone is up to?”
And so the pair moves towards the towering, magical-looking (but now powerless) tree. The sun lingers just behind it, casting intricate patterns on the ground they walk over. She’s been quiet while the kingdom has grown with life. Now that she has the greatest responsibility of all, however, she knows she will change. Motherhood makes her eager to prove herself, because nobody’s opinion matters to her as much as her son’s. They reach the tree, its heavy branches swaying gently in the wind above their heads. While they wait for company, Emmerly explains what the tree used to mean to the Gates. She tells him how they had sort of adopted it as a gift from another kingdom – how they had grown to love it and care for it like it had always been their own.
It's strange to think that the twins are a year old now. It seems only yesterday that she gave birth to them and introduced them to their darling father. The past year of raising them has been a bit of a whirlwind, trying her best to run the kingdom and raise two children at the same time. Granted, it's generally only one of the children that gives her trouble - Sahm is a sweet, well behaved little boy, but Sidra ... well, the black and white filly can be a little feral at times.
But, both of them are far more independent now and more often than not, she finds herself alone. It's strange to not have them near her, to have, miracle of miracles, some free time to herself. It's a little lonely in fact.
She's considering seeking out Jason (it's been far too long since the two of them had a moment alone), when the sound of soft hoof steps reaches her in her hideout close to the Mother Tree.
She doesn't reveal herself immediately, instead choosing to watch as the mare and foal take up a spot under the branches of the tree. She smiles as the soft voices reach her and though she cannot hear what they are saying, it reminds her of the time that she herself explained the Mother Tree to her own children.
Finally, she extricates herself from her hollow and approaches, her crooked smile widening. She has not seen Emmerly in quite some time (though the mare's scent never completely disappeared from the kingdom) and she is pleased to see the mare rejoining them in the open. "Emmerly! It's been a while! How are you?" She then leans in to look at the boy, still smiling. "And who might you be?"
((Ooc: got bored on the bus, lol. No promises on fast replies unfortunately. Until I get back that is. ))
Warm gold flecked eyes peer through his flaxen forelock, watching the mare and her son with a small smile on his lips. He can’t help but watch, an intensity of longing on his face. The happiness in the child’s eyes and the love in the mother’s voice. It makes his heart constrict with a well known grief that he had been trying to avoid for so long. Watching them reminds him of the mother that was so cruelly taken from him, of the fake mother who had nothing to offer him. Most of all it reminds him of Magnus. The smile stays on his lips but it’s a painful grimace now, finding some solace in the goodness of the scene before him. Quietly he follows them, keeping enough distance from them to not be awkward and grazing now and then to keep up appearances. His ears would betray him if they paid attention as well as the glances he sent their way. Slowly he follows them to the tree and here he is distracted, this tree hadn't always been here had it? The mare’s voice carries and he learns about the tree as her son does. How interesting. Quite a gift. Another approaches, a pretty mare who greets them warmly. The longing pulls at his heartstrings again but he continues to graze as he takes some slow steps towards them, gathering his courage. When he is within range of them, too close to not say something, he lifts his head and smiles. ”Hi there.” Not always great with words or conversation especially when he has just crashed into their reunion.
Eldrian listens to her take on the Mother Tree with all the enthusiasm and eagerness she’s come to associate him with. His dark eyes widen in curiosity when she mentions the Chamber. He looks adoringly at the trunk when she tells him how it helped them heal from the fires. When she finishes, the colt touches the rough bark with his velveteen muzzle so softly that she wonders if he’s done it at all. She thinks it must be wonderful to be so keen to learn anything about everything; if only she could steal a bit of his youthful openness.
Emmerly is not nearly as naïve as her young charge, however. She’s seen more of the world than she ever thought she would, more than horses twice her age likely have, even.
She’s been hounded by werewolves and called upon by Winter himself. She’s followed the Easter bunny (and found an egg that had given her its flame) and battled the pink Valley once-queen. She had been beautiful and unmarked before all of her journeys. Now, scars line her body and few know the stories behind any of them. She’s done so much outside of her home that perhaps it had left her with little motivation to work within it. Or, maybe, the paint mare was always waiting to be called away again, caught up in her anticipation for the next adventure. Whatever the case was, she is wholly changed now. Eldrian has made her eager to commit; her next horizon is awaiting each sunrise with the brown boy.
This doesn’t mean that the fire has left her, however. The need for physicality stirs her into constant motion – she can’t help it. As her lesson on the Mother Tree winds down, Emmerly nudges her son, about to challenge him to a little race in the meadows beyond. But a sudden sound alerts her to the fact that they are no longer alone. Already in motion, the paint mare moves completely in front of the boy, her instincts well-honed but untested in such a capacity. When she sees who it is – the paint mare with the disfigured face – she relaxes immediately.
“Fiasko!” Emmerly steps back, allowing the colt to come forward. He meets this new face with the same enthusiasm as always. “Hello ma’am. I’m Eldrian.” His smile is instantaneous. Mother had told him they would be meeting lots of new horses – would be living with the rest of them, now that he has grown some – and he couldn’t be more excited at the prospect. He looks at his dam now, but she has already turned back to the other mare.
“It’s been more than awhile, but we are back to stay now. How have you fared?” Em wonders if the queen can tell that the boy isn’t hers’. She has no knowledge on children and their similarities to their parents to draw from. She hopes that if she does, she will not say anything (at least not in front of Eldrian). The paint has no time to elaborate on her current affairs, because the small group soon grows with the addition of a stallion. Emmerly had seen him loosely following them, always just far enough away to not draw suspicion (she is ever the strategist, after all). But he’d seemed harmless enough – perhaps he was just in search of company like the pair of them had been.
She notices the way he hangs back and look at Fiasko, unsure if the man was a new comer or just shy. Her blue eyes meet and hold his gaze, softening at his quiet introduction. “Hi there yourself. Come on over.” Her smile widens at her light mimicry. If he’d been closer, she would have given him a friendly bump with her muzzle. Instead of waiting for him to move closer, she moves herself, closing the distance between them. Eldrian trails in her wake. “I’m Emmerly.” The bay colt’s ears perk up, taking his cue. “And I’m Eldrian!”
The boy is a handsome little thing - full of light and energy, and radiating a naive happiness that only exists in children at that age. He reminds her of Sahm in a way, though Sahm had always been quieter at that age, is still quieter. And now that she’s closer, she can almost detect a note of similarity in their faces … though of course that can’t be right.
She smiles at his greeting (so polite for one of his age!), and nods in return. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Eldrian!” Perhaps she should introduce him to her children. He’s a year younger than them, but they would probably still enjoy the company. He might serve as a good example for Sidra.
Emmerly inquires after her, and her smile only widens. “I’m glad to hear that! We will be happy to have you around!” The Gates is always in need of more active members. “I’ve been quite well actually. I’ve become a mother myself - to twins. They’re more independent now, but they drove me a bit crazy for a good year.” More than a bit crazy. Well, most of that had been Sidra anyway - the girl can be a little wild.
They are suddenly interrupted by the approach of a strange stallion. Fiasko smells him before she sees him (what with one eye and all) and swings her head about to study him. He seems harmless enough - he’s smiling, and his manner does not appear hostile - so she offers him a crooked smile in return. “Hello there. I’m Fiasko. What brings you to the Gates?” She hopes he’s here to stay - they are always in need of active members.
Their gazes fall on him and his expression turns somewhat sheepish now that he has their attention. Emmerly closes the distance between them, including him in their small circle. He acknowledges them each with a slight nod of his head, peering through his tangled flaxen forelock down at the little colt with a small smile. ”Pleasure to meet you Eldrian.” Raising his head and arching his neck slightly as his gold flecked gaze meets that of the two adults. ”Pleasure to meet you both as well.” It’s sincere for it’s been so long since he’s seen this many friendly faces.
He doesn’t know who rules the Gates now but he’s sure the throne has passed hands since he’s been gone. It tends to do that. So he doesn’t recognize the one eyed mare as the Queen nor is he put off by her empty socket. In fact she looks as if she’s had quite a few adventures herself. Something he can relate too. ”I’m Ledger.” He offers quietly, hesitating for a moment when Fiasko asks what has brought him to the Gates. ”I’ve come home.” He finally responds, unspoken emotion weaved throughout his words. They say home is where the heart is and his heart has been shattered since the moment of his birth but the Gates were the closest thing to home that he has ever had. So return to it he does like a moth to a flame.
She can’t imagine calling anywhere else home. There’s an obvious beauty in the Gates from the sweeping, embracing branches of the willows to the wildflowers that blanket the meadows in the spring and summer. The kingdom advertises itself as the light, airy, good place it is. And while Emmerly might not share all of these qualities herself, it’s hard to picture her life spent anywhere else. The paint thinks maybe it’s what ground her here, this disparity between who she is and where she plants her feet at night. Darkness runs deeply in her marrow, after all. Her father and mother had been a prince and a princess of the Chamber, respectively. Sometimes she thinks she can feel their influence start to creep up on her. Sometimes she swears she’s drawn to the fighting rings for no greater reason other than to satiate her need for violence.
It’s a chilling thought that is only the light of the Gates can force back into the shadowed corners of her mind.
She’s glad to be back, whatever the case may be. She’s glad to be amongst friendly faces again, ecstatic to have sweet Eldrian by her side as she transitions back into working life. As Emmerly listens to Fiasko talk of her own children, it brings a knowing smile to her face. It quickly turns into a more appropriately shocked expression when she learns the count of them, though. “Twins?! I can hardly keep track of this singleton on my own.” The paint woman laughs gently, mostly because it isn’t true. If anything, she wishes the boy had more fire. Often, she’s the one pushing him into her games of chase and hide the branch. “Congrats, though. I’ll have to meet them soon.” Em bumps her queen with her muzzle. A playdate between the three youngsters would be most welcome, she thinks. Eldrian has grown up with the deer and rabbits for company – it will be good for him to meet others his age…and species.
The unknown stallion takes her up on her offer to join their small group. He has a quiet aura and a soft voice – so different from Emmerly’s own outspokenness and physicality – that it intrigues the mare. So many of the horses that call the Gates home are all too eager to make friends in their naïve, polite way. And while she loves them for it (she would have long ago set out for the Chamber if she hadn’t) it can be more interesting to draw out the information slowly, to take time to get to know each other. As always, to the warrior mare, it’s all about the challenge. “Ledger.” She tests the name, liking the bluntness of it (in stark contrast to his mannerisms) on her tongue.
The bay colt pipes up again, fueled by his apparent acceptance by all of the adults. “Welcome back.” His bottlebrush tail wags happily, excited to be included in anything and everything he possibly can. He heard the queen-lady mention her children and he’s already thinking of all the wild adventures they can have. He knows a lot about the fringe parts of the kingdom (the hidden places where Mamma Em had raised him away from the others). He likes the Mother Tree and all the willows just fine, but he thinks he’ll miss the deciduous woods and trickling creeks of the borderlands as well. A visit will be in order, at some point, and maybe he’ll have friends to take by then.
Emmerly can see the wheels turning in the young boy’s head. She ruffles his forelock roughly but affectionately with her muzzle (unable to do it any other way). The chestnut surely has many stories of his own, and Em thinks Eldrian will likely have him telling them all in the coming year, should the man choose to stay. She can hear the undercurrent in his words, the line of sorrow that laces what would otherwise be a happy declaration to stay. “It’s seems we are the same in our endeavors to return,” she says, smiling. She won’t ask him to reveal his entire story just yet – that can come later, when they know each other better. Instead, she goes with the simple question. “What is your area of expertise, caste-wise?” The part of her that hungers for battle hopes it will be the army, but she doubts it. She thinks, like her son, this man is meant for diplomacy.
Much like Emmerly, she can’t imagine ever calling another place home. The Gates had taken her in when she’d been a tiny little thing, all alone in the world, and desperate for a home and a family. They’d given her food, shelter, protection … raised her from a scared little girl to a unconfident adult. Then they’d help her transition from that self-conscious adult to the queen that she is today.
She wouldn’t have had any of that, if they hadn’t given that to her. They’d saved her and made her into a somebody - a somebody to be loved and cared about, a somebody with a family. She couldn’t imagine every living somewhere else. The Gates is a part of her as much as she is a part of it.
And she’s glad to have yet another member return to them to fill their ranks. The Gates has given her so much, and she wants the kingdom to thrive, to succeed. Unfortunately that’s hard going these days.
She chuckles at Emmerly’s surprise that she’d had twins. She’d been just as surprised when they’d been born. “Oh they certainly kept me busy. Actually, Sidra kept me busy. Sahm’s always been perfectly well behaved.” She shakes her head. She loves Sidra dearly, but she hopes that the girl mellows out some day. “Thank you. Of course! Maybe you could teach Sidra a thing or two. She’s been expressing an interest in the army.” Battling certainly would be a way to get out some of the girl’s extra energy.
The stallion joins them then, and Fiasko nods politely at him. Her ears perk in interest when he mentions that he’s ‘come home.’ “Well, welcome home!” Perhaps he is here to stay then.
Emmerly asks after his caste of preference and Fiasko falls silent, interested in his response. Either caste would be welcome at this point - they are in such dire need of members.
))
