"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
The Jungle caved in, Beqanna followed. That is the series of unfortunate events as Sarkis would recall them. Tossed, head over heel, spiraling out of control and contorted until she was unceremoniously dropped on a Mountain. Oh she knew it was a mountain all right, the closeness of the trees, the altitude and thin air. It certainly wasn't home in any case, there were no lush greens, no exotic flowers made of vibrant shades of the rainbow. The wild calls of the Jungle ceased, replaced by the hushed whispers of moving deer. It was quiet, too quiet and she longed for the ruckus of her birthplace, she ached for it even.
She had too often kept to herself and as it goes, you only know how much you love something when it is gone.
When she does come down from the mountain it is spring and the warming air is pleasant against her thin coat. A twig snaps underfoot and she peers down at it for a moment before continuing a winding path through the wood. Trees felt nice that’s all she knew, the closeness of the birch and the oak and maple made her feel better but not whole. Everything had changed, again. It seemed that every time something did change it was enough to leave a wound against her heart, first Mother and Father, then the Jungle.
A sigh finds her, breathing into existence from a tired mouth. She needed to find her sisters.
Though she knows that many are attached to their homelands, she finds it somewhat childish to miss a physical location. The world changes - it is best to keep moving, to make the world keep up with you rather than the other way around.
Djinni remembers the hot sands of her homeland, but it is the faces of her family that she truly misses.
There is a bay mare nearby, one that Diinni nearly passes by without comment. Then the wind shifts, only for a moment, but it is enough to make her pause.
"You smell like the Jungle," says the grullo mare to the roan, her head turning first, followed by her body. It's a familiar scent, even if it quickly being washed away from the members of the sisterhood by the briny air of the coast. "Did you live there, before?" Her expression is curious even though her eyes remain dark; she is willing to linger for conversation but is not yet entirely invested.
Beqanna had the right of it; the Sisterhood was too attached to the land itself. It was a weakness that was easily exploited by their enemies, and the former Warrior Queen had seen it firsthand. The Valley burned and burned and burned. The Chamber had been reduced to ash, and each kingdom took it in stride. Their members seemed nonplussed. When the Jungle burned, the Sisters took it personally. They were resilient, but their hearts hardened against reconciliation, turning into blackened, burnt-out husks towards the Chamber.
Emotions are real, but they are not necessarily reality. Their longing would ebb with the coastal tides, and soon a new generation would be born with a love for the cool, salty air. They would never know the feeling of a land that is a mother to them.
Perhaps it is for the best. Perhaps it will strengthen them. Or it will weaken them. Or be a non-issue.
It isn’t Lagertha’s responsibility anymore.
The gray mare is a little stronger now, having slept for days on end. Instead of summoning whomever is like-minded to talk about what they want to the do with the ‘army’ side of the Kingdom, she returns to the common lands to search for more recruits. Perhaps the shake-up had wakened more Sisters who were previously slumbering or wandering in solitude throughout the Jungle. She weaves through the trees, and the same smell that attracts Djinni attracts Lagertha. She is surprised to see the mouse-gray newcomer in attendance already, and quirks her head to the left a bit with a bemused expression.
She’s never worried about coming off as rude before, and she won’t now. Lagertha answers Djinni’s question in a roundabout way. “Sarkis. It’s been a long time.” She offers the roan woman a slight smile, and then addresses the gray mare. “Djinni, right? I noticed you at the meeting.”
That sigh is laced with fatigue, longing, an emptiness. She passes through the forest with a particular slowness, taking her time in looking for the group of women she has known as family since birth. Around a copse a trees she finds nothing but empty space and sprouting grass. Within a bramble she spies nothing but a family of quail nestled within the confines of the thorny mess. They titter at her presence and she quickly withdraws her head, a few strands of black tearing tangled from her head. “Ow,” she states, tossing it back and snorting- she never liked thickets.
Her search is fruitless, each turn of the trail holding no signs of her former life. Was it so terrible to hope it would? Maybe she should move on, forget the past and try living in the present. She tried so many times to do so after her parents passing and each time had failed quite spectacularly. Didn’t stop her from trying though, she was nothing if not consistent.
Just when she has all but given up she is joined by a rather unfamiliar woman. A smokey grullo female that Sarkis does not recall ever knowing or meeting before. No matter, she wasn’t one to shirk meeting new faces, she had overcome her deep set depression that had taken hold of her social life.
You smell like the Jungle
Her ears perk, pulling forward at the sound, at the observation spoken out loud. Hazel eyes brighten, taking on a sparkle instead of simply laying flat within her skull. “I do, yes,” she says, nodding at the words. “Yes, yes I did live there before- before all this. Have you by chance seen any of the others from there, the Amazons, my sister?” She is too hopeful to stop the questions that spill from her lips. And then someone else is approaching and Sarkis whips her head towards the new comer.
Happiness floods her, her face brightening with a smile as her eyes take in the sight of the grey. “Lagertha!” She exclaims but stops herself from bounding forward to greet the once Khaleesi of her homeland. She stills herself long enough to learn the name of the stranger and remembering her manners she offers a greeting of her own- a proper one. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Sarkis. Nice to meet you Djinni.”
“Lagertha are the others okay, have you found them?” she wonders, hoping everyone was okay but glad she was no longer alone.
Djinni seems to have hooked the bay mare with her question, and the other female responds with a flurry of questions as desperate as the struggles of a fish to free itself. The grullo mare has no time to answer any of them before the scarred mare from the Coast appears beside her, addressing the bay with familiarity. That is enough to settle any of her curiosity, and she gives Lagertha a brief nod - yes, she is Djinni.
It does not take long for her to realize that she is an intruder o this conversation despite her initial presence. The smile she gives to Sarkis after the mare's introduction is cooler than it might have been, and rather than answer the question that she poses Djinni remains silent. She does glance toward Lagertha, curious despite herself to know how many of the former Jungle residents had made it to the Caost. There are few of them - by Djinni's count - had some been lost to Beqanna's upheaval?
In truth, Lagertha does not intend to stay with the duo - her destination (as she has just realized it) is the Mountain. And yet, the General is glad to have come across Sarkis, for she is fond of the much younger sister, and thinks of her in the same vein as Sette and Vi (wherever the two of them may be). A smile also creeps its way across her face in response to the bay roan’s enthusiasm. It’s hard to stay cranky when someone is happy to see you.
Djinni may not feel the same way, though, as Lagertha glances sideways at her fellow gray. She’s not entirely sure what keeps the newcomer silent, but she’s not going to be terribly nosey about it. “A handful,” she replies to Sarkis with a soft sigh. “Mostly newer sisters, and some I don’t know very well. It seems that the shifting may have woken many up from their immortal naps, but there are many who are conspicuously absent.” If Lagertha had fingers and toes, she could probably fill them up with Sisters who have silently disappeared. Her heart even twinges for a few of them. However, the scarred, gray mare is ever so practical - and as life goes on, so does she. “I’m headed to the Mountain for another look.” Another side glance to Djinni, which turns into a full on tilted-head assessment.
“Djinni, I don’t know if you’ve decided to stay with us or not, but would you mind filling Sarkis in on the details and showing her the way to the Coast? You have an unbiased opinion of the current situation, I believe.” Yes, Lagertha can be bossy. And no, it never occurred to her that the woman might have something else she wants or needs to do.
Or maybe it did, and Lagertha simply wants to rope her into deciding to stay with the Sisterhood. She’s tricky like that. And even if it is easy to see through her ploy, at least she's making the effort to make Djinni feel wanted.
Steadily her hazel eyes follow each woman, left, right, left, right. As she listens to the words of the Amazonian War General she comes to a conclusion, even if it is a hasty and incorrect one. “Oh!,” she blurts looking rather chagrined. “I’m so sorry Djinni, I didn’t realize you were a Sister too.” Of course not, she never stuck around the main swing of things to know better, which is something she should make a point of not doing. She should be more involved or at least take the time to chat up the girls every once in a while. Living in the dark wasn’t so fun.
“I like those, they’re pretty,” she decides, dipping her head and motioning with her front left hoof to the gold circlets of the other.(hope she still has these xD if not ignore me)
Lagertha’s journey is one that Sarkis is not fondly interested in. “I didn’t see a soul on my way down and I’ve no desire to go back any time soon,” No, the Mountain was an entirely new feeling of alone for Sarkis. Something deep and absolute and it unsettled her.
"I'm glad to hear that most are well, and I do wish you good fortune on your search," well wishes was the best she had to offer right now.
And then her previous assumption is confirmed to be just that, an assumption. It seemed Djinni wasn’t quite a Sister yet but nevermind that, Sarkis wasn’t particular about company. She often would befriend anyone, Sister or not. “Oh I’d love some company on the way. Afraid that Mountain has left me feeling a bit spooked, it’s not...normal that place.” Of course it wasn’t, it was the start of all beginnings now and that was no light matter in any case.
09-27-2016, 01:47 PM (This post was last modified: 09-27-2016, 01:49 PM by Djinni.)
She listens, curious, absorbing what Lagertha and Sarkis share as eagerly as a cactus takes in the spring rain (though her expression remains equally as prickly as the saguaro).
When Lagertha asks her to fill Sarkis in, the grullo mare replies with a soft smile. She doesn't mind the demand - though she has rarely been one to follow orders - and simply turns to look at the bay mare with slightly more curious than she had previously shown.
"Of course not," she says to Lagertha while her eyes remain on Sarkis.
Should she tell her that Lagertha's been elected queen? Or that Nayl rules them with an iron fist? She could even spin it farther, explain that she - Djinni - is the ruler, and that the coast the live on are the islands of Tephra.
Djinni has never needed anything less than she needs to be wanted.
She had not protested at the assumption that she was a sister. She is a sister, of course, her younger siblings are nearly as numerous as the stars. Her membership in the Sisterhood that formerly lived in the Amazons is something else entirely, and is still, mostly, up for debate.
"The mountain is rather terrible," she agrees, glancing north toward the towering precipice with traces of a scowl of her dark face. "The Coast is rather nice though - lots of sand." That's the truth, at least, and she looks at Lagertha, knowing the the grey mare is ready to climb the Mountain. "Did you know Naga, before?" She asks the roan, her grey eyes bright and innocent, "She's the queen now."
ooc: she actually doesn't have her rings now, since its part of her genie-ness and she hasn't earned it back
