"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
08-06-2016, 02:55 PM (This post was last modified: 08-06-2016, 02:55 PM by Shahrizai.)
all things are possible, even the worst of things
Everything had happened so suddenly. The raid, the deaths and disappearances, the flood. He had won, but the victory had been so very hollow. He had returned to find the Deserts gone and his family scattered.
Ilka, Heartfire, Illum. All gone.
He had found her, thank the gods. His sweet Ilka. He didn't know what he would have done had he lost her. His heart had nearly shattered in his chest when he realized the danger he had inadvertently left her in, when he couldn't find her at first.
But she is here. Their children are safe. And she had brought their third child safely into the world. He had not left her side, could not bear the thought that he may have so foolishly put her in additional danger
But she is safe. They had come to the Rapids, seeking sanctuary. He had claimed it as his own. With luck, he would find the others. Would bring them here, to safety.
But for now, it is just his small family. He finds Ilka easily enough, and Augusta. Their daughter is growing so fast. A smile tugs at his lips as he wraps the black and white mare in a warm embrace.
”Ilka.” He breathes her name, happiness softening the sorrow on his features at the terrible events plaguing their past.
Ilka and Illum had followed their other halves to the border when they left to fight in the raid. Both would have gone all the way to the plains, both would have chosen to stay close to those they loved, but it was dangerous for Ilka to travel so far while so pregnant, and Illum had been unwilling to leave her alone. So they stayed, waiting at the border for the smudge of a gold dust cloud to let them know that their loved ones were returning, that all was well. But the cloud never came, nor did Shah and Heartfire. Instead Illum had taken to the skies to appease his mother, promising to scout out ahead and let her know they were safe.
But that promise was broken for him when the warning came, urging the Desert inhabitants to leave while they still could, to leave before that option was taken from them. When he turned in the sky, altering his route back to home, back to his mother, he could see the ocean bubble and roil and spit along the beaches, could see the tide swell greedily until they had consumed the sand and still that was not enough. He had landed quickly beside his mother, with sweat gleaming against his flank and shoulders, and they had disappeared with the rest – fleeing confused and disoriented with worry burying itself so much deeper than it had before.
But impossibly, Illum and Shah had found one another, and after coming back to collect a very exhausted Ilka, the trio had found an empty territory nearby. Ilka had given birth to Augusta shortly thereafter and the secluded herd-land had become home. Even though Heartfire had not joined them, Ilka did not worry heavily. Their daughter was nothing if not resourceful, sharp and strong and everything her mother was not. She was certain the blue roan was unharmed, certain she would find them easily enough should she decide she wanted to. Illum, however, had grown distant and she could not tell if it was because he missed his twin, or if it was because of what he had seen consumed by the ocean, who he had seen consumed, when he returned to the skies to find Shahrizai. She didn’t press him though, and he seemed to find some solace in the skies here.
There is a sound to her left and she turns from where Augusta plays nearby to find the familiar blue of Shah approaching. The same softness that steals over his face etches across hers, too, and she curls into his embrace when he pulls her close. She can feel his sorrow like ice beneath his skin, feel it in the hunch of his shoulders and the tension that tightens his muscles and she tries to ease some of it by pressing her mouth to his shoulder to trace constellations of her love against the blue. “It’s okay, Shah,” and it isn’t, not really, not after everything they have lost, but she says it anyway because she believes it will be true eventually, “we can find the others and bring them here, it’ll be okay.”
She presses another quiet kiss to his shoulder and then disentangles herself from the warmth of his embrace, touching her nose briefly to the curve of his jaw as they parted. “You protected us, you kept us safe.” She shifts forward, walking up beside him so that her hip touches his and their shoulders brush. With a sigh she rests her cheek against his neck, quiet as her dark gold eyes drift back to their beautiful Augusta. “You’re everything, Shahrizai, I love you.”
Born beneath the gentle glow of pale moonlight and with dappled kisses presses against her damp and moistened brow, Augusta had been birthed wholly into love, her little heart filled to the brim with glee at the overabundance of affection laid upon her. The air, though thick with a frigid mist, had little effect on her slender, delicate limbs, as the warmth of her mother was never too far off. She reveled in her adoration, often pressing the smooth curve of her cheek against her shoulder or flank, curling into her as if she too could become a part of her again. Her thrumming heartbeat draws her near to her, and beckons her to her even when she has wandered too far.
The heavy rustling of rapidly moving water lulls her to sleep beneath the pallid light of nightfall, and soothes her even when the nightmares of imagined shadow creatures settle into her bones and wake her from her slumber. The rigid, aged but looming pines whisper to her softly as heavy winds weave throughout, pulling her curious mind away from the distraction of her mother's whiskered kisses and her father's solemn presence, but it is not often that either allow her to tread too far away - worry lingers within their tired, heartbroken eyes, and though she does not know why they ache so terribly, she tries to stop their unshed tears from falling with her own onslaught of doting affection.
Her slender limbs bound along the minuscule stones that lay across the dried field tucked away from the flooding waters; her heart light and carefree as she eagerly pursues a fluttering, floating monarch with her heart swelling with an enthrallment that only youth can capture. Disappointment lingers as a shadow in her bright eyes - a bright, glimmering shade of burnt sienna, like her own mother's. A gentle huff is pressed from her flared nostrils, and with dismay, she begins to tread across the uneven stone as she moves closer to her entangled parents, who whisper sweet nothings beneath the afternoon light.
Wordlessly, she tucks herself against both of their broad chests, blending with her father's twilight coloring and her mother's soulful eyes, though her heavy lashes fall over her eyes as she settles between their loving embrace, listening closely as the two heavy heartbeats fall into sync.