"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
They see it as a sanctuary, but Nayl sees it as an opportunity. Her reach is spreading, her shadow being cast across more than just Nerine. When Brennen proposed the idea, she briefly mulled it over and tried to envision what could be. It was enticing; he quickly seized her attention. As he fed her the information, she savored every drop, every morsel, until she was truly able to grasp the concept with their names already memorized. ”Iset and Amet,” she murmurs now to herself as she scales another hill, her muscles rippling underneath her coat. Castile, whom she almost forgot was with her, peers up with a silver eye darkening with confusion. A feeble grin quivers at the corner of her mouth as she simply mutters, ”You’ll see.” Her answer suffices for now as he placidly follows in suit. With this being the first time he has ventured from Nerine, he can’t entirely contain his excitement. His steps quicken and his wandering gaze brightens after every knoll they crest and after ever ravine they cross. This is all new for him, an adventure.
His wings shuffle at his sides as they gingerly cross the shallows of stream. It’s here that Nayl tells him to ease back and to settle alongside her again.
In Sylva, she easily bypasses the invisible borders, seeing it as a secondary home. It is her first subkingdom clutched tightly by two of her own. This Lake, however, is entirely new and unexplored. It’s in the palms of children she doesn’t know, but backed by a stallion she is increasingly learning trust. His scent, Brennen’s, blows across her with a brisk, autumn gale. The others, however, are entirely foreign. Castile, eager to meet the others, stands vigilant at his mother’s side. While she stands in silence to scrutinize the hills, mountains, and lake, the boy lets loose a call. His voice is immature and betrays his undoubtable youth. His tail, black and bottle-length, wags from side to side. ”When will they get here, mother?” Nayl glances down to her son and risks a gentle smile that only he can see. ”Soon,” his childish ignorance and jubilance almost hurts her. He hasn’t yet grown into himself or seen what lies outside of Nerine; he is oblivious.
A reassuring touch finds his poll, but then Nayl withdraws and returns her fiery eyes to the land unraveling in front of her. It rises from a morning fog, the grass glistening with morning dew. While Castile sees magnificence and fun, Nayl still only sees opportunities and power.
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
He is hidden beneath the sweeping boughs of his Wisteria tree, amber eyes looking over the misty lake from the eastern side. It's peaceful today and Amet wonders if his companions are still sleeping, or if they've gone off to explore for the day. Moving from beneath the lavender blooms, the bronze and gold dragon-boy picks his way closer to the crystalline waters. Crescent-shaped hooves step into the Lake and the Akhal-Teke moves deeper until his lanky, coltish legs are hidden and the waters lap gently at his plated belly.
The fog is not a dense one, swirling out of Amet's way as he pivots and begins to move parallel to the shoreline. His steps are leisurely, un-rushed for the first time in a long, long time. It's hard, on occasion, to keep himself from thinking about Him. About Sakir. But when he is able to bury his worries in a deep, dark corner, the Akhal-Teke is able to relax more in this new place than he ever was able to in the Dunes.
That's not to say, however, that he does not have his demons.
A tentative call rings through the crisp air suddenly and the almost-stallion, who will finally be considered an adult at the turn of the next season, immediately amends his route and heads in the direction of the whinny. The morning sun glints impressively across his gilded scales, but fail to reach his lithe frame each time he weaves between his purple Wisteria and pink Cherry trees. Approaching the hill crest, Amet's amber eyes find the shapes of a painted mare and her winged child, just on the other side of the clearing. He gives them a polite smile, though his amber eyes may betray his hesitation, as he nears them.
The colt opens his maw to greet them just as his flaring nostrils catch their briny scent. It takes him a moment, but when he realizes where else he has smelled the salty ocean, he can only assume that this is the Queen they had been waiting for. "Nayl," he says quietly as he bows his narrow head to her, "I am Amet. Welcome to the Lake."
The winged colt beside the painted lady, whose eyes are bright with excitement, reminds him of Sakir and a warm pang fills his chest. Extending his neck to motion to the boy's feathered appendages, Amet gives him a wink, "Cool wings!"
Castile is eager to explore, to race down the grassy hills and hurl himself in the glistening lake. He wants the wind to whip through his locks and for the sun to dance across his back. His excitement quivers through his wings as the restlessly shuffle at his sides. He peers up at mother once, twice, before staring ahead again.
”Someone is coming,” he blurts while prancing in place until a sharp glance from Nayl settles him. It isn’t an adult like he was anticipating, but it’s someone approximately his own age. His mismatched eyes hardly stray from the boy as he approaches, wanting only to be a child and not a politician as he is being pruned to be. It’s a battle to stay still until the boy stops in front of them, greeting first mother. Nayl, with a coy grin stretching across her lips, dips her head in assurance. ”Yes, that is me,” her name rings strongly across Beqanna now. She was once a shadow – a faceless Amazon – that held no weight and no power. It was a promise to herself that she would change that.
Now, she is seeing the bounty of her harvest.
”A pleasure,” she rolls her shoulders and turns her attention to the land unraveled behind him. While she scrutinizes every pond, every tree, and every hill, Castile no longer subdues his jubilance. ”Thanks!” His wings unfurl and take one heaving flap that hardly lifts him from the ground. ”I haven’t quite figured out flying yet, but dad will teach me.” That’s what mother had said, at least, but he hasn’t yet met Lior. Soon, she says, and the boy hangs on the world with endless hope and dreamy fascination. ”Cool scales!” Little does he realize that he, too, could have scales. Unfortunately, Castile has not yet tapped into (or realized) his capabilities
Nayl is quiet for a long while as the boys interact, submerging themselves into the innocence of childhood. Amet, like Castile, is young. Their new home is new and the power they hold is unfamiliar. ”How is like on the Lake, so far, Amet?” Her blazing eyes snap back to the boy after having been wandering across the landscape. ”And what is your overall goal here? Brennen mentioned a haven for children, for juvenile training. Is this true?” She has never been one for idle chat; she is blunt, direct, curious.
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
The other boy unfurls his wings and Amet momentarily forgets that he is trying to play the part of the diplomat in front of Nayl who is, essentially, his Queen. Without her assistance or her willingness to allow Brennen to split his time between the Lake and Nerine, Amet is quite sure that he and his sister would have been unable to protect the territory on their own.
... but dad will teach me, the boy says as he returns to the ground, and there is a fleeting pang of discomfort that rises in Amet's chest, but then Castile compliments the gold and bronze scales and it passes. He laughs kindly and looks down towards a leather-plated leg, which he has lifted off the ground to inspect. "Thanks! I'm still getting used to them," he admits mildly, before his amber eyes flick back to Nayl. The King of the Lake offers her a sheepish grin before turning both of his ears in her direction, the inquiry one that he almost hadn't expected. He is not used to being addressed as an adult, or even as a creature worthy of life. "Beqanna has been very good to me, and to Iset."
His eyes fall away from hers, a shred of doubt inching its way into his thoughts as he considers what, exactly, he wants to tell the Queen about the Dunes. A frown turns the corners of his mouth. "The Lake, and Brennen's help, have both been blessings. Neither my siblings or I had a good childhood. This is the first place we have felt safe." This is the first place that has felt like home, is what he wants to say, but the dragon boy falls silent, instead.
Thankfully, the painted mare has questions about the future of the Lake, as opposed to Amet's past, and the bronze-and-gold boy nods enthusiastically. "Yes, very much so. We want to create a safe haven, but not just one that young horses can escape to, but one that can mold them to be whatever they want to be, whether a leader or a diplomat or a fighter." He pauses, his eyes alight with passion, "Mostly, I want to ensure that those who find a home in the Lake will never feel hopeless or lost once they leave."
She doesn’t mind them interacting, letting their minds become distracted by the small things such as wings and scales; they are children, after all. It simply strikes her as odd how willing – how easily – a young boy can come to rule an entire land. He has ambition, a trait that she regards highly as he turns the table and tries to thoroughly focus on the political manner of their meeting. He grins sheepishly in which Nayl responds with an amused tilt of her head.
”Iset,” she tastes the name thoughtfully and her eyes skim the nearby hills and reservoir, ”will she be joining us at all?” Certainly she cannot allow a growing land to be held by an absentee Queen. The disapproval darkens her thoughts, but never reaches the fiery brightness of her eyes or face. Instead, she turns her attention on the continuing conversation. With deep calculation Nayl mulls over the information he provides, the goals he sees, and the tragedy he has experienced. Everything is taken in, memorized, absorbed. The boy is fairly open, but she can see that he still holds secrets beneath the surface, keeping them tethered to a murky abyss that he hopes to never relive.
Nayl lacks a typical sense of sympathy. Her mind, her fist, is of iron. She rolls her shoulders and regards him in a sterner manner, but there is still a hidden softness in the depths of her gaze. ”Don’t let your past affect you. Push it to the back of your mind; you’re in a new place with new confidants.” She isn’t here to destroy them or to ruin them as they have once endured. ”So, tell me,” she hurriedly moves along as to not dwell or bring more attention to his history, ”how long will children be able to stay here?” But then a curious thought enters her mind. Shifting her weight, and without ever glancing to Castile, she asks, ”And what of you and Iset? What will happen when the two of you are too old for this children’s Neverland?”
06-01-2017, 11:21 PM (This post was last modified: 06-01-2017, 11:43 PM by Iset.)
Iset
goddamn right you should be scared of me
It had been a while since she had been to the Lake, or Hyaline as it was now known, and she has to say she missed her new home more than she had ever anticipated. Her heavy, weary eyes fell closed and she enjoyed a brief moment of silence while breathing in the comforting smell of the trees and the flowers surrounding her. Voices soon pulled her attention away from the various scents dancing on the breeze, and Iset turned her curiosity towards a trio of horses standing clumped together standing along a grassy knob that she herself was very fond of napping upon. She recognized the metallic scales of Amet, but the other two horses were unfamiliar to her.
Unaffected and unconcerned about interrupting the conversation, Iset hauls herself up and takes long strides to where her brother speaks to the strangers. She was beginning to grow into her long legs, so the amount of times she stumbled over hidden roots or rocks was considerably fewer than it had been before she had stormed away so long ago. Her name, spoken carefully by a female voice she did not recognize, traveled to her ears and caused her to perk up ever so slightly.
At least one of the newcomers knew, or knew of her, something she found very interesting indeed.
She takes her time reaching the group, so by the time she arrives she only catches the final threads of the mares words; the words she somehow rushes from her mouth but injects a calm coolness into as well. The filly shoulders her way directly into the triad, placing herself immediately next to Amet and pressing her shoulder to his. She cocks her head, speaking before she let her diplomatic brother open his mouth, “We will join Brennen as protectors, isn’t it obvious? And anyway, who are you to be concerning yourself with the way we run our land?” Her golden eyes narrowed at the cold woman, unhappy with someone else interjecting themselves into the politics and logistics of their home.
She was soon bored with the mare, and though she kept a wary eye on her, the majority of her attention was drawn by a miniature and male version of the older horse in front of them. He didn’t appear to be much younger than her, and she took some comfort in this, addressing him even as the woman that appeared to be his mother ignored him, “Hello. I’m Iset. And you are?” She struggles to drain the frustration out of her voice while speaking to the colt; after all, you can’t choose your parents.
Something Iset herself was painfully aware of.
She inserted as much boredom and venom as she possibly could into her glare and returned her focus to the distinguished looking mare, “And you, is there a reason you’re here? Other than to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?” She knew she was being rude, but the fact of the matter was she had long since run out of fucks to give.
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
"She should be here any second," the dragon-boy says with a small frown. He silently hopes that his sister will be feeling slightly less headstrong than she normally does, but Amet is well aware just how adverse she is to any form of authority. His heart quickens at the thought and he draws his lips into a thin line. The expression only lasts a moment before the painted Queen catches his attention again.
'Don’t let your past affect you. Push it to the back of your mind; you’re in a new place with new confidants.'
The young Akhal-Teke is thankful for her advice, and he opens his maw to tell her, but the words catch in his throat. The kindness is foreign and he freezes in his uncertainty.
Nayl, thankfully, doesn't spend much time dwelling on sympathy, and so Amet is let off the hook. Her interest is swiftly back on the idea behind the Lake. Amet smiles enthusiastically, not that the discomfort has faded, and he answers the mare readily, his bright amber eyes occasionally finding the winged Castile. "We were thinking that five or six may be the limit, but we are not yet there ourselves, so I'm unsure whether or not that's a good age," his lips twitch anxiously for a moment, before his ears flick at Nayl's next question and he moves to answer her again, to tell her that he hopes to stay and be one of those who teaches and protects the youth of their territory.
Unfortunately for the dragon king, however, his sister has decided that this is the moment she will join their conversation. He experiences a brief moment of hopefulness when Iset presses her shoulder to his scaled one, but it is incredibly short-lived. His blood runs cold as she snaps at Nayl and a harsh snort falls from the boy's nostrils. "Iset!" he snaps, bumping her hindquarters roughing with his. "This is Nayl, the Queen of Nerine." His words are rough, forced through clenched teeth as he turns his gaze back to the pair in front of him with embarrassment.
"Please forgive my sister," he offers to Nayl, though Iset is already talking over him and snapping at the mare once more. He snorts again, his bright amber eyes turning to Iset harshly. "Iset," he snarls, "Nayl is the reason that Brennen is able to offer his protection here." He wants to scream at her, to ask why she can't act like an adult, but he knows that she hadn't had much of a childhood, either. "I need you to stop, Iset. Please," he says quietly in her ear.
Nayl regards him quietly, humming to herself when he suggests that Iset will arrive soon. A glance over her shoulder, a snort. That’s, for now, the only indication of her impatience. Amet is fair company, kind and open, but she wants them both. Brennen boasted of their goals and their efforts. It’s her sway over Beqanna and her generosity to still let this land flourish even as she cups it in the palm of her hand. She could destroy it, if she wanted, but she admires Amet with a softer flash of her eyes when he answers her question with admitted hesitation. A meager grin touches the corners of her mouth. ”The finer details will be worked out, I’m sure,” her voice is more maternal with him, her poise relatively at ease.
But the peacefulness of their conversations concludes. Suddenly there is a clash of words, a play of dominance. Nayl blinks slowly in observance of Iset’s arrival, watching as she nestles against her brother’s shoulder. The vehemence in her voice is undeniable, but Nayl simply stands and listens. Her mouth twitches, almost holding back a bout of laughter, and her eyebrow lifts. ”No, no, Amet. You should never have to apologize for or babysit your sister. She should be smart enough by now to know how to carry herself.” A knife that buries into Iset, and yet Nayl says it in an almost eerily calm manner. Castile flinches.
But he replies to Iset, easily able to shove aside the political banter among them. Of course, he is here to learn, but his curiosity outweighs his necessity to be here. ”A pleasure to meet you,” he replies in a lower, gruff voice. A boyish grin cracks his stoic expression, brightening his mismatched eyes even for a moment. ”I’m Castile.” They are enjoyable, both of them, but he notes the subtle notes of disapproval – some admiration – in his mother’s voice. He peers up at her briefly, but his gaze can’t help but flicker between Iset and Amet.
”I suggest avoiding that fucking tone with me, girl,” even then, even as her barbed tongue lashes back, she is a cool as the eerie blackness of the deep ocean. There are monsters lurking beneath the glassy, calm surface. ”I trust that the two of you can work out a strong system here. Although I haven’t seen Brennen lately, I’m sure he is somewhere not far off. In addition to having him here, my son will also remain.” Castile’s ears swivel and a glance of surprise etches across his handsome face. He says nothing of course, refusing to object. ”There is little he can do in a matriarchal society.” She loves the boy, there is no doubt, but Nerine holds no promise for him.
”Additionally, I would like you to know of your additional security. Not only do you have Nerine watching over you – shielding you – but there is also Sylva, my second subkingdom. The forest is ruled by Djinni. By settling under my wing, you already have two strong allies.” A smugness sweeps across her, her heart pattering at the idea of how far she has come along, of her power stretching across Beqanna.
