"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
09-16-2016, 03:19 PM (This post was last modified: 10-03-2016, 09:52 PM by Akkadian.)
Akkadian
"Awk-ay-dee-Uhn"
In a black mood
His mind was pacing, though his body remained as stone, gently warmed by an early-spring sun. Hard eyes glared at a watering pool, just far enough away to hide his own reflection from his gaze. He'd lost track of time and wasn't at all sure how long he'd been standing here. Everything seemed to be going wrong.
When he'd returned home that day, everyone was dead. His family viciously murdered. He'd thought his sister had been as well, 'til the Gods thrust her in his path on this new land. He'd denied it at first, didn't want to admit that the girl with haunted eyes was his charming little sister.
No, not sister. He well remembered how he'd stolen her from her home as a child.
She couldn't blame him for that; she didn't know the truth. Instead she now hated him for his recent actions. With every turn, he seemed to be upsetting people. Jord, his princess sister, grew livid when he'd tried to protect her. Then Josie, the stunning woman he refused to think about, hated him for his words as he'd demanded she never fight his battles.
Even his attempts at finding a land to return to at night had gone awry. The damned kingdoms didn't even exist anymore. Ach, perhaps it was best he roam for now anyway, give him time to find himself again. The guardian he was trained from birth to be seemed to be changing, his steely armor cracking little by little. Rusting with disuse, perhaps.
Just for today, he'd wanted to pretend he hadn't been brother and bodyguard to a prince. But his training was now instinctual, and he shifted silently to better see the person he sensed approaching him.
He stood tall, sharp gaze locked onto this person. Some might could find him handsome... if it weren't for the perpetual glare spearing everyone who came near him lately. He was in a mood as black as his coat, and the stallion said nothing as he stared them down, daring them to speak to him.
You've got a heart as loud as lions, so why let your voice be tamed?
The only thing that’s gone right in this gods-forsaken new world is I found my Rhory Lionheart. Still no sign of my daughters, sure as fuck no sign of their father - not that I want to talk to him, but it would be a relief to know he survived is all, okay? And I miss my girls, dammit. They need to come home. Not that we have a home for them to come back to. Hell.
Anyhow.
Somehow having Rhory back makes it feel okay to go tromping around the Meadow. Like it isn’t me giving up and saying yep, still a meadow rat after all these years. I’m just having a wander, seeing if maybe one of the girls wound up setting up camp there. Not backsliding or going back to my shitty, shitty roots. But regardless of the reason or the feelings involved in this little trek, there’s no sign of either of them.
So when I stumble across tall, dark, and pissy here I’m in about as good a mood as he is. I glare right back, our two sets of brown eyes clashing as they meet. Even if mine are from significantly closer to the ground. He’s a good bit taller than me, sleek and angry, all hot-blooded grace and a fuck-off look in his eyes. I’m more tough and rugged with a hint of scruff and a whole lot more attitude than has ever been smart. Sleek and elegant are not words anyone’s been dumb enough to apply to me, I’m pretty damn sure, and my mouth tends to get me in a good bit of trouble.
Which is why I’m not surprised when it opens and the words “You got something to say, princess?” come traipsing out to smack the stranger across the face. Might as well roll with it though. I snort and give him a dismissive once-over, then meet his glare again. “Or are you just gonna keep standing in my way looking like someone lit a fire under your tail and you’re trying to figure out who to kill for it?”
You've got the light to fight the shadows, so stop hiding it away.
The creature meets his hard gaze, and instantly mirrors it. His brows tug tighter together just slightly. If he wasn't in such a terrible mood, he might have found it amusing. She was a bit smaller than him, looking about as fragile as a pissed off badger that kicks up dust in furious outrage.
She clipped a snarling little remark at him, calling him princess. With his emotions and thoughts all over the place, he struggled to hide his amusement, the corner of his mouth just barely tightening. Close, but wrong gender. Oh right, and wrong title.
Her eyes openly scrutinize him, and his narrow in response, then she throws another snipping remark at him. He smiles slowly, without mirth, and his brows lift in amused interest.
Are you volunteering yourself? he asked passively, an intrigued pitch to his voice, squaring up to her as if they'd truly spar with one another.
He certainly didn't intend to, but it was refreshing to find someone that did not balk in his presence, or better yet did not even know who he was; what he was. Like heated metal, he'd been hammered and forged for one thing his whole life: A mace to bludgeon. A blade to kill. A shield to protect. A weapon, a tool.
He'd been taken in as an orphan, with false pretenses of being a second-born prince. His sole duty had been to learn all the battle styles and stratagems of all the clans to better protect the true prince. Their only heir. Everyone in his homeland knew of him, most opting not to even greet him, as if he'd suddenly decide they were a threat and kill them. It'd made for a lonely life at times, but it had been best that way, he supposed. No distractions. Only protection for his brother.
He'd failed miserably, but that was another story.
Shall we dance, then? he prompted with a coy little smile and glittering eyes. This will be fun.
You've got a heart as loud as lions, so why let your voice be tamed?
He fucking smirks. Well, fine, so it’s just a tiny twitch of his lips, not even. One little corner shifting just slightly, but in an amused direction. I snarl and glare even as his eyes narrow, and then the bastard has the audacity to smile. “Oh, precious, it’d take more than the likes of you to kill me. Unless you’ve got some kinda magic in those dainty bird legs of yours, but last I heard there’s not a whole hell of a lot of magic left in the world.”
Oh, don’t get me wrong, he has perfectly nice legs. Normal-shaped and everything. But first off, my mouth tends to just say things without exactly consulting my brain to see if they’re accurate or, you know, smart or anything. And second, it’s maybe just a tiny, tiiiny bit more fun to poke the angry bear with a stick than to walk away gingerly and shit. So I don’t exactly fight my natural instincts, even if they’re dumb as fuck.
Still, he squares up to spar, and I shrug. I mean, I wasn’t looking for a fight when I stomped into the Meadow, but it’d be better than being all worried about my daughters, neither of which seems inclined to make their damn presence known and tell their mother they’re still fucking alive or anything.
Or I could just mouth off more. That could be fun too.
“I don’t know, princess, with those scrawny legs of yours I’d be worried you’d fall over if you tried to dance with me. You sure you’re up for that? Don’t need to go lie down and spare yourself the effort of balancing?” He actually looks like he could dance circles around me, but I’m not about to tell him that. Or even really let myself dwell on it for more than half a heartbeat.
I’ve made it this far in life through having way the hell more balls than brains, so to speak. Might as well keep it up now. “I know it can be hard, with your head so far off the ground. So much work to get any blood up to your brain, easy to get a little woozy if you’re not careful. Wouldn’t want to see you faint. After all, you might hurt the shrubbery if you fell on it.”
You've got the light to fight the shadows, so stop hiding it away.
She insulted him. Even compared his battle-toned limbs to bird's appendages. Somehow, he managed to control the laughter threatening to gurgle in his throat. So amusing. She certainly was a prickly little badger, wasn't she?
So very amusing.
Her eyes catch on his movement as he lines up for a match, but she only shrugs. Still, it is clear that she is more than willing to play the game if he chose to go on the attack. He found a little respect for that, and her misplaced boldness, though in his homeland she'd probably be dead by now. That was particularly entertaining as well.
Not by his hand, of course, he was having far too much fun to carry out that sentence, but anyone else could were they to catch her speaking to him this way. Hmm, he supposed he wouldn't have let them though. He probably would have turned around and trained her, instead. That rebellious streak of his, maybe. Not that these thoughts even mattered, as he could never go back to his homeland now. Now he was a prince of nothing, bodyguard to no one but himself. Unfortunate.
She goes on to spit more of her venom his way, and oddly enough, he listens with interest. Up until the part about his head being so far off the ground and what that might do to his balance, which has him tossing his head back and laughing. And he was still chuckling when she fears for the poor shrubbery if he were to fall on it.
His muscles tighten and his face pinches as he feigns injury, lifting his foreleg to guard his chest. Ah, you wound me! he said, his voice dripping in playful hurt.
The movement inadvertently pulled his skin too tight and ripped open the still-healing scab on his shoulder. It would eventually scar into fairly clear teeth-marks, but it seemed a few more days had been tacked onto that timer just then, as he scowled down at it. Though, already beginning to trail a little blood, it doesn't hold his attention long and he's back to his little assassin-of-words.
There, see? You've cut me so deep with your lethal barbs I'm bleeding out now. He tsk-tsked sadly, a light in his eye belying the fun he was truly having.
What would it take to drag a smile from that furious glare of hers so that she may join him in this brief recess from their worldly problems? He shrugged inwardly, doubting the possibility of such a thing. He was not versed in the battle of phrases, and could not play her game so well. His tongue was a dull one, but he still had a sharp set of teeth, he supposed.
You've got a heart as loud as lions, so why let your voice be tamed?
Okay, fine, so Princess Smartass might be kind of fun. He even plays back, though the big buffoon manages to rip open an old wound in the doing. I roll my eyes and nudge him so the light’s hitting him better and eye the injury that looks like it’s been healing a while. “Smooth. You clearly need thicker skin, precious. Man, bird legs, tall and woozy, paper-thin skin that leaves you bleeding after one little insult or two, life must be rough on your frail self, huh? Poor baby. Hold still, don't want you hurting yourself again.”
It’s not bleeding badly, just a little trickle really, and for some stupid reason I do my best to tend to it, licking away the blood and making sure it’s not infected or some shit. Looks fine, though. Not inflamed or gross or anything, just a plain old scab torn open because he sassed too hard. Really needs to work on his game, apparently, if one little try has him dripping blood.
“It’s a close call with as fragile as you are, but I think you’ll live.” The words are dry, and if I smirk a bit, well, who’s to blame me? He’s the dumbass who sassed himself into bleeding. Not that I could relate to that at all, ever. Not I. Whatever, anyhow, it was healing just fine before he tore it back open, and it’ll heal just fine now, odds are.
“So.” I step back with a snort, realizing I’m a little bit too close for comfort now that the whole cleanup bit’s done. My bad. I’m out of practice with the whole personal space thing, and most of the people who put up with my mouth like me enough for it not to matter. “You got a name or a story or anything, or should I just keep calling you Princess?” Maybe he’d like that. Sure seems to have brought a bit of a sparkle to his eyes, anyhow.
You've got the light to fight the shadows, so stop hiding it away.
She nudged at him, shifting him about like a little ragdoll for her inspection. And somehow he let her. He didn't hide the stupid grin on his face as she insulted him some more, examining the wound with a trained eye. Why was he finding her abrasive nature so damn entertaining? It was definitely refreshing.
He tensed when she nursed it, cleaning any chance of infection, but forced himself to relax just as quickly. It had taken him a lot of time, but he was gradually learning the vast cultural differences of this new land. In his own, the action was far too intimate for a stranger to be doing for him. They'd had specific people for that, inspecting and cleaning the battle wounds. There had been much war between the clans. So much it had simply become a way of life. But somehow this didn't feel intimate despite her care and closeness.
She called him fragile then as she straightened, dishing out more of those oddly intriguing barbs. The little smirk sneaking its way to her lips apparently destroyed any logic or common sense with the sudden thrill that shoots through him and before he was aware of it he was stretching his neck to touch just beside her nostril. It wasn't a kiss of course, nothing like that, and hadn't lasted but a swift moment before he was straightened again and she was backing away from their closeness.
It was a silent thank you though, and not for treating to his recent injury but for everything else. Most especially for releasing him from his dark mood, and helping him forget all the mess in his life. Or, the mess he'd made of it, anyway.
With the bitter hate and anger washing away from him, he felt oddly serene. And so when she asked his name and his story, for the first time since he'd arrived here in Beqanna, he told it. His voice was calm and smooth, no embellishment, just matter-of-fact and empty.
I am Akkadian-Shakkad.
Guardian of His. He looked in the distance for a moment, thinking on the name that held so much meaning where he was from. But here, it was only a name. And even there it would now only be a name, as this His no longer lived. He was no longer guardian of anyone, or anything. He had no purpose now.
He returned his gaze, and continued on in a bored tone, and yet he didn't stop himself from spilling it all. Foolish, but it had been held so tightly for so long and he suddenly needed it said.
I was second-born prince in my homeland, with no other purpose but to protect my brother. I was trained from early childhood to do just that, passed around to allied clans to learn all the battle styles and not just the ones our warriors were taught in.
I failed, though. And now I am here.
Now I protect nothing. He stared into her eyes, trying to figure what she would say now, this assassin-with-words. She had probably only wanted a name, and all the rest had tumbled with it. Oh well. What's done is done.
Kade will do. he said with a wry smile. Not such a mouthful as his full name that was more a job description than any proper calling.
10-28-2016, 10:06 AM (This post was last modified: 10-29-2016, 07:04 AM by Arrya.
Edit Reason: Spacing again, wtf?
)
You've got a heart as loud as lions, so why let your voice be tamed?
Whoops, apparently I did cross a bit of a line there. Princess tenses up a little as I clean his wound, but he doesn’t pull away. He lets me look him over and clean him up and whatnot, and it’s not til I’m about to pull away that he does a little personal space invading of his own and touches my face, a soft little not quite kiss that has me tensing up in turn, freezing in place and looking at him with wide eyes. Nah. Just a little thank you. Okay. Good. That’s fine then. I nod a wordless you’re welcome, and the weird little moment passes.
Contrary to popular belief, I am actually capable of not being a smartass sometimes. Just sometimes, mind. But it happens now and again. So when a detached calm takes over his face and he tells me his story, I watch and wait and listen. I know what it’s like to distance yourself from old pain, to put on a mask to give yourself a little breathing room from the hurt. So I don’t lend much credence to the bored tone or the disinterested, distant expression on his face as he tells me about his past. And I nod again when he suggests I call him Kade. Then I return one story for another.
“I’m Arrya. Just Arrya, no fancy titles or anything. I was born a Meadow rat, dumped like so much garbage the day I was born. A woman named Alik adopted me, and I spent the first two years of my life pretending to be less than I was so that she’d keep me. I looked pretty ordinary, see. Just this little bay nothing of a girl, not a speck of weird to be seen. She was of the belief that anyone with any kind of gift or ability was tainted by magic. And oh, the light loved me. Once upon a time, anyhow. The world’s changed a lot since then, but it used to be I could make the light dance.”
I look off into the distance, remembering, wishing I could still touch the magic that’s always been with me, until so very recently. I can almost feel it twirling around me, swirling against my skin, solid somehow and so responsive, fluttering and flickering and cheering up the darkness with its happy glow. But I can’t quite reach. With a sad little quirk of my lips, I go on.
“Well and I had wings, but they were sneakier than most, only showed up when I needed them. And I didn’t know about them yet. Finding out I had them was a hell of an adventure, let me tell you. Anyhow. Alik said she loved me, called me her daughter, treated me like her own. Until the day I confessed. She dropped me in a hot second, chased me away, left this scar on my face,” and I toss my head a little to indicate the crescent-shaped scar that swoops far too close to the inner edge of my left eye for comfort. Forms a little half-halo around it almost, a flailing hoof that caught me in the face and almost took out my eye, all because she couldn’t handle the truth of who I was. Who I still am.
“Anyhow. I’d met a couple of boys and sassed my way into their affection, fell for one of them the minute I saw him like a silly little sap. Stomped my way into his heart even though he was way out of my league. We had a couple of kids, thought we were forever, then he dropped me like I was nothing, the bastard. Loved the hell out of the other boy, who was my best friend from the minute he showed up to defend his buddy against a sketchy colt who was way bigger and stronger even though he was just about shaking with fear. Lost him because it broke his heart to see me with his best friend, and I was an oblivious idiot. The feelsy shit isn’t exactly a strong suit of mine, and he had to spell it the fuck out for me. Ran right to him when my ex left without a word, though. Well, no. When I found my ex with his kid by another woman. Then the whole world goddamn exploded, as I’m sure you know. Haven’t seen my kids or my ex since, no idea if they’re okay, but I found my Rhory again.”
I shrug, a sappy little smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “Nothing big or important. No destinies or purposes or callings or anything. Just a quiet little life, with love and heartache in equal measure. I’m starting to think, though, that sometimes the shitty parts happen to make room for the good ones. Maybe that’s naive,” I snort, not quite believing it even came out of my mouth. “But every time I’ve said goodbye, every time I’ve thought I fucked everything up or my life was just falling apart...really, really good things came after. Maybe I just need to tell myself that, so I’ve got something to hold onto when the hard parts come again, the way they always do.”
Another shrug, because it’s not my place to tell him what to feel or what to do. “I’m sorry you’ve had a rough time of it. But if you need someone to protect, find someone to protect. You’re not over just because your job is. It sucks. Failing hurts. Losing people is fucking devastating. But don’t throw yourself away because of it.” I wrinkle my nose, scrunching up my face at my own stupid words. “But what do I know? None of my damn business, right? It’s just, you seem like a decent guy is all, and there aren’t a ton of those around. Life fucking sucks sometimes. But you never know when it’s gonna turn around.” Ugh. I sound like a fucking cheerleader or something. One of those obnoxious, peppy twits who drive everybody crazy with their happy! upbeat! attitudes! I can’t help but roll my eyes at myself. “Sorry. Arrya. I’m Arrya, was where I was fucking going with that.”
You've got the light to fight the shadows, so stop hiding it away.
Ok, so maybe it had been sort of a kiss. Just a peck. Nothing meaningful. Not something he planned on repeating any time soon, he had enough problems with women already. She really was a balm to his soul, a prickly little band-aid on the rip and tear he'd made of his recent life. Not a cure, but a temporary relief.
She spilled into her own history then. Her mother was the worst excuse he'd ever heard of one. She said the light loved her, and he let that pass without comment, not having a clue what the hell it meant. Then that new mother was just as bad as the first, if not worse. Disgusting. And wings, she added. Hidden wings. Strange, but pretty intriguing.
She talked about stomping her way into the hearts of some boys. He smiled wryly. Yeah, he could see that a little too clearly. She'd sure been in a mix of a love triangle, and she describes the dynamic of it. Then of course, came the clarification that she was happily involved with the one that had loved her all along. Sweet, romantic. A sweet and happy twist of fate. Oops. Yeah, that definitely hadn't been a kiss earlier.
And then she empathized with him, laying out so openly everything he hadn't realized he'd shared so clearly. Failure, and lost loved ones. He flicked his eyes away from her, feeling that familiar icy stab of pain piercing his heart. She couldn't know, not really. She couldn't know it had all been his fault. And he'd never tell her.
His deep, brown eyes came back to her, his gaze a little harder as the walls around his heart quickly erected back in place. She called him a decent guy, and he smirked. How hard it must have been for her to compliment such a dainty princess.
She ended with her name. Arrya. Arrya. He held his expression carefully blank. It was different, exotic. Almost like home, but not. It was a name worthy of his homeland. It could easily belong to a woman there, but a rare one. One bold enough to have a name never given before.
It is an honor to meet you, Arrya.
He smiled slowly and bowed his head as was expected of a respectful prince, a different bout of training he'd received almost as an after-thought. Not exactly his forte. She'd probably rolled her eyes, the feisty brat. But as her very own princess, he couldn't very well disappoint her. If only a horse could curtsy.
10-29-2016, 10:34 PM (This post was last modified: 10-30-2016, 11:43 PM by Arrya.)
You've got a heart as loud as lions, so why let your voice be tamed?
Whoops. Yeah, I figured I went a little too deep there, thinking I knew what I was talking about, thinking it was my place to give advice. So when he deflects my comment about him being a decent guy with a smirk and a bit of a disbelieving look on his face, I snort. My bad. Next time I’ll be sure to specify I mean aside from his obvious faults. Which are none, but I can make ‘em up all he likes. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re shit, after all. Compliments aren’t always easy to swallow when you don’t believe there’s much of anything good in you.
But that little deflection is short-lived, and he greets me with a weird sort of...respect. A bow, a bit of a smile, but there’s nothing mocking in it. Believe me, I give him a good looking-over to make sure, wariness all over my face as I wait for a punchline that never comes. Huh. Well then. I tilt my head, my brow furrowed in mild puzzlement as I try to figure out how to respond to that. And then I shrug and nod. “Well. Not so bad to meet you either, Kade. I don’t know much about honor, but I’ll take your word for it.”
Ohhh but his next question has my whole face softening in an expression I don’t think I’ve ever worn before. My young family. Family. Not just me and my Rhory, but a whole new little person we teamed up to make, one tucked away deep inside me and just starting to grow. I duck my head, my eyes closing for a moment so I can just let that happy little glow wash over me and settle in my belly, wrapping our little one up in a hell of a lot of love.
Aaaand then I peek up at Kade, a little embarrassed at the depth of sappiness triggered by one little question. “Well at the moment, most of my young family’s right here,” I answer him, trying and failing to wipe the damn mushy smile off my face. “Two thirds, I damn well hope. I don’t want to think too hard about the possibility of having twins again.” Oh look, that thought’s enough to make my eyes go wide and my heart race a little. Shit. No healing magic this time. Ohhhh shit, I did not think of that. Mother fuck. Whoops. Okay, Arrya, just breathe. It’s gonna be fine.
I snort and shake off what could easily turn into me quietly freaking out about something that’s months away, and refocus on Kade and our conversation. “No idea where my daughters are, but I dragged Rhory to this really damn pretty forest to settle in and make ourselves at home. Sylva. Do you know it?” Maybe that’s a dumb question. Fucking everywhere’s new. I roll my eyes at myself and snort. “Sorry. Right. Woodsy bit just north of the godforsaken Mountain. Quiet, chill, nice scenery. Seems like a good place for a kid to grow up, hell of a lot better than the Meadow was, anyhow.” And then I tilt my head, curious. “What about you? Where do you call home, Kade?”
You've got the light to fight the shadows, so stop hiding it away.
