"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
09-12-2017, 10:10 PM (This post was last modified: 09-13-2017, 06:42 PM by Amet.)
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
Hyaline’s young King begins the familiar trek to Tephra just as the sky begins to shift away from night’s inky darkness. The journey is long, though not overly strenuous, and will seem even longer when he encounters the snow that has blanketed Beqanna throughout the winter months. He feels spoiled, in a way, that his lakeside home is exempt from the ivory precipitation – the only indication of winter that he and his assemblage must endure are frosted grasses and white plumes of exhale that are quick to disappear as the sun sits overhead in the late mornings.
The rest of Beqanna is not so lucky and the blanketed grounds of Loess, Sylva, (he takes special care to give what was once Taiga a wide berth; the stories of wolves on fire are not ones he is willing to test) and the common lands slow Amet’s pace. His lean legs carry his slim frame deftly through the knee-deep flurries, shivering on occasion though the physical effort keeps him mostly warm. The young gilded King is distracted, either way, by thoughts of his upcoming conversation. Today, instead of Warrick and Tang as he usually would, he seeks Offspring, the red-eyed Overseer that he had met only once before, following the Lost Boys’ attack on Hyaline.
Amet, despite the circumstances behind their first meeting, had sensed a sort of nobility within Offspring that he knew he could grow fond of. He had been impressed with the Tephran King’s willingness to visit Hyaline and confess his own son’s involvement – and, as an added bonus, the stallion of fire and brimstone had come with a seal of approval from Warrick.
When finally the gilded stallion arrives in Tephra, it’s just after noontime and the sulfur-tinged air greets him warmly. Amet takes special care to stop just inside the border of Offspring’s kingdom and immediately announces his presence with a loud call to avoid any misconceptions behind his visit – the last thing he wants to do is start off this conversation on the wrong hoof. He waits patiently and with a smile, his gold and bronze scales warming in the afternoon sun as amber eyes scan the contours of Tephra for its King.
You're looking at an absolute zero; I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.
Once upon a time, he might have longed for the frigidity of winter, of the glacial wind and cold of ice across the surface of his marred skin – but it stirred anguish he would rather forget, buried to the deepest and darkest recesses of his mind. It reminded him of a different time, of a different place, where he had once been the ice-wielding King of a barren wasteland, of a brotherhood that had become a part of his very existence – a brotherhood that had given him a reason to live, a reason to thrive. It had been taken from him, and with it, his ice – and fire had grown within him instead, festering and flickering with a scalding heat, fluttering within the hearth of his chest.
As restless and as raucous as the rumbling volcano itself, and its heavy, blossoming plume of smoke – rising to the vacant, open sky, as endless as the tempestuous sea, where the scarlet intensity of his gaze has lingered yet again. In quiet contemplation, he is utterly still and motionless, with little more than his shallow breath or the slow, deliberate blinking of his iron stare for liveliness. So much of his day is spent tucked away near the base of the growling volcano, silently admiring the thin rivulets of lava seeping through the soft and fertile soil, crawling out toward the wild and unruly sea, stretching out the boundary line of his domain. The solitude is soothing, calming (as much as the soft rustling of the ocean breeze weaving its way through the golden vegetation swaying to and fro, or the whispering sea), and he is at ease.
Alas, there is movement toward the southwest, and he is roused from his reverie, as the crimson depth of his hardened gaze is narrowed on the gleaming, gilded creature moving toward the distant shoreline. He can see so much further and so much clearer than most (he is still not used to it – a side effect of the pyrokinesis that had carved its way into his terse muscle and hardened bone, he is certain), and it is not long before Amet is no longer alone, as his powerful legs carry him through the mire to toward the reptilian King.
A flicker of recognition gleams within the rim of his bloodstained eye, with a faint uptick of a smile tugging at the corner of his dark mouth – a replication of the one worn by the gilded King; his presence is a pleasant one to behold, and not at all unexpected – until he realizes that it is his own name dying on his lips, and not that of Warrick, or Tangerine. Curiosity is alight, like a blistering flame, illuminating his usually dark and hardened features. His tangled tresses fall in the way of his gaze as his behemoth body is made to be still before him, nostrils flaring to take in the familiar scent of ash and wisteria from his skin – a glimmer of regret flashing in his gaze; he still had not forgotten the promise that he had made him.
He would find a way.
”Amet, welcome,” he utters, his tone warm but rough around the edges, his throat hoarse from the quiet he had kept to. ”what a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Tephra?”
OFFSPRING
another zealot with the weight of the fucking world.
09-12-2017, 11:20 PM (This post was last modified: 09-13-2017, 06:44 PM by Amet.)
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
Amet doesn’t expect his wait to be lengthy, nor does it end up that way. Shortly after his call reverberates through Tephra’s humid air, Offspring’s muscled frame can be seen pulling away from the distant tree line and approaching the gilded King with a smile of his own. A bout of nerves, flitting and turning in his stomach, surfaces as the ruler of Tephra encroaches but Amet keeps his countenance calm and friendly. He’s not here to cause trouble, after all – though the topic of their conversation will take a delicate turn, in time.
Gifting Offspring with a polite nod, the young Akhal-Teke is pleased to see that his arrival upon the volcanic island is not unwelcome. There had been concern, a quiet inkling, within Amet’s thoughts that had made him question whether or not the red-eyed King would admit him to visit Tephra after the conclusion of their meeting in Hyaline.
He is not naïve enough to think that Offspring’s relationship with the Nerinian Queen is a friendly one.
”Offspring, it’s good to see you,” Amet says truthfully, his ears fluttering in acknowledgment of the other stallion’s inquiry. With poise usually seen in rulers and diplomats much older than himself, the Dragon King responds confidently, ”There is something I’d like to discuss with you, if you have the time.” He pauses then, his amber eyes turning away from Offspring and to Tephra’s border and then back again. ”Could we move further into your home? I’d like this conversation to stay private, and away from eavesdropping ears,” He finishes with a quiet chuckle before they are moving further into the Kingdom of Tephra.
Amet remains quiet for another minute or two, calculating how he’d like to broach the subject with his companion as they walk abreast of each other. Finally, he takes the leap, deciding that there is a time for circumventing and a time for diving straight into the midst of the matter at hand -- ”I have informed Nayl that I no longer wish for Hyaline to be a subkingdom of Nerine,” a pause, a sideways grin, ”Needless to say, she was disapproving.”
He waits then, amber eyes roving Offspring’s face, curious of the Tephran King’s thoughts.
You're looking at an absolute zero; I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.
”Of course,” he replies seamlessly, needing no time to ponder the thought. ”I have plenty of time.” With a curious tilt of his head, his scarlet gaze bores into his (of amber, though the golden hue of his many layered scales bring out the subtle warmth around the rim of his pupils), flickering from one and then to the other, attempting to gauge what he might be seeking. He knew that it would take time to restore Hyaline to the glory it had once been, and there is a pang of guilt somewhere within his wildly beating heart – his son had been the cause of much strife, but he had begun to prove himself, maturing and growing within himself. He is prouder with each day, despite the grave error in judgement he had made so long ago. He had been young; naïve.
Amet is wary, and with a tick bordering on uneasiness (there is tension spreading beneath his scaled hide – it does not go unnoticed), his gaze is cast toward the sea and a border that lay where the tide touches the tightly compacted sand – and Offspring is intrigued, his interest piqued. With a solemn nod and a toss of his cranium toward the heart of Tephra, where the rumbling volcano lay in the distant haze, he moves with ease alongside him, listening quietly and attentively.
The silence is heavy, but he does not press him – there is evidently a burden settled upon the shoulders of the young King, and for a moment, he is left wondering if he might be attempting to breach the subject of his wayward, reckless son, or of the damage he had wrought – wondering if he might be trying to inquire as to whether the promise he had made him would be kept (and it would).
What he does say has left him speechless, his heavily muscled legs growing still at once, as his wide-eyed crimson gaze studies him – a glint of mischief and amusement befalling his scarred and usually stoic features. ”You did?” he asks – a rhetorical question, as it were. ”I must say, I am impressed,” he muses softly, a smirk pulling at his usually firmly straight mouth, matching his own. ”and I am hardly surprised that she was displeased.”
He wondered if anything pleased Nayl.
The thought is fleeting. He doesn’t care.
”Admittedly, Amet, I have limited my political scope since the world reshaped itself, but I have never seen Hyaline as being any less than independent. You do not need Nerine; you are a more than capable leader.” He pauses then, a realization dawning upon him as to his purpose as a curious smile emerges. ”Tell me, what is on your mind?”
OFFSPRING
another zealot with the weight of the fucking world.
09-13-2017, 12:33 AM (This post was last modified: 09-13-2017, 06:45 PM by Amet.)
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
Amet is thankful that Offspring does not rush him into what he wants to say, though the young King is sure that the Overseer has had much experience with diplomacy; far more than he has had during his three-year reign of Hyaline. The skills have come to him in time, coaxed out of his inexperienced self by trials and tribulations that, while devastating and frightening, have made him proud to call himself King. The scared colt he had once been, running from the Dunes in the middle of the night and abandoning his younger siblings, is long gone now – in his place stands a stallion still learning, still growing, but doing so confidently and with bounding strides.
They meander slowly and Amet takes in the sights of Tephra while he searches for the correct words. Not long ago he had come here to visit Tangerine and her newborns – Warrick’s newborns. Somewhere in the depths of his heart he pines for the painted mare, but the pride and happiness upon her face as she’d stood there next to Warrick and their children had been enough for Amet. Her happiness is all that had mattered, is all that still matters when it comes to the kind-hearted seer, and the stallion she had chosen to father her children wanted only the best for Tang, which made him a fast friend of the Dragon King.
Finally, after what seems like forever, Amet’s amber eyes return to Offspring and he breaks the silence between them.
Tephra’s King halts instantly, prompting the golden Akhal-Teke to do the same. His small grin remains and, after a few moments, is matched. ”I didn’t expect to blindside you so effectively,” Amet admits good-naturedly. His chest swells with pride for a moment – I must say, I am impressed, the red-eyed stallion says – and then swells more as Offspring compliments him as the leader of Hyaline. He doesn’t say that Amet has been a capable leader for someone so young, or for someone so inexperienced.
The young King’s throat tightens, barely allowing him to muster out, ”Thank you, Offspring,” as he comes to the immediate realization that all he had ever wanted for himself was for someone to tell him he was doing it right; that he wasn’t failing Hyaline, or his siblings, or himself. Amet clears his throat and moves his glassy-eyed gaze away from the Tephran King just long enough to blink the emotion out of them.
When his eyes return to Offspring, it’s with a renewed resolve. ”I’d like to discuss an alliance between Hyaline and Tephra,” he shifts his weight, letting his hooves adjust comfortably against the soft soil of the volcanic island, ”Though I don’t want you to think it because Hyaline will soon stand on its own, without the reputation of a more established herd to protect it. I want to forge an alliance because I see a kindness and righteousness in you and in those who call Tephra home.”
Amet pauses again, picking his words before continuing, ”I’m afraid that I don’t have much to offer to solidify an alliance between our Kingdoms just yet, and I sense that this issue between myself and Nayl will reach its climax soon, which could put your people in harm’s way, but I give you my word that Hyaline would always come to Tephra’s aid, should it ever be asked of us.” His golden eyes search Offspring’s scarlet ones, silence befalling them once more, though Amet’s heart betrays his outward calm and threatens to beat straight out of his leather-plated chest.
You're looking at an absolute zero; I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.
Amet is young, but he is far from juvenile. There is a shadow of anguish and suffering hidden beneath the deep amber of his gaze – a sign he had seen much, despite his age. Having lived nearly two centuries, he had seen it all. Love, lust, vengeance, violence – it had all touched him, leaving him weary with a deep, scathing scar both physical and mental, etching into him the experience that only time could give. It had also bestowed him with the knowledge that not all is what it seems, and he would not discount the young King simply because of his age. He had seen humility and grace within his presence, even as the land he had come to know as his own – the land that he had sworn to protect, in the face of whatever adversity might face it – burned behind him, charred and left to ashes and dust.
It is not a characteristic that can be learned – it simply is, or it is not, and he knew from the moment his soft and solemn voice emerged from his gilded throat that Amet had it within him, simmering beneath the surface as a burning ember, longing to envelope him in the blistering inferno that would become his legacy. He saw within him what he had seen within himself so many years ago – but he does not think of himself so highly; he is flawed. Deeply so. Nonetheless, he does what he can to ensure the strength and fortitude of his own territory, and the many individuals that had placed their faith into him, seeking his guidance.
Just as he knew the gilded King of Hyaline would do, as well.
A low and rumbling chuckle emerges from the hearth of his chest as the gentle jeer – he had been caught off guard, which does not often happen. He can appreciate the humor. Stoicism often held its unwavering place within the hardened line of his jaw and the ferocity of his gaze, but it was not him in its entirety - and to those he can find kinship with, the façade fades away, as it so easily does with Amet.
It had been some time since he had felt any sort of affinity toward another leader – his heart aches for a moment, thinking of Killdare, his fallen brother. He longed to see him again, to hear his voice, but alas, the cruelty of time and fate had taken him away from him, as it so often did to all those he loved. Amet is a warm and comforting reminder of what had been, of the alliance that had been forged between unlikely friends – and he is no fool; he can see where the direction of the conversation is headed.
He has already made up his mind.
There is a flicker of emotion rising to the surface, and it does not go unnoticed – he has given him affirmation, and there is not more than a faint smile at the corner of his mouth to show for his own acknowledgement. He would not pry – if the gilded King so desired to impart upon him his own struggle, his own journey, he would do so in time. Nonetheless, Offspring is all too understanding of the need for encouragement and reassurance, and a faint and solemn nod is given to his quietly spoken gratitude.
And then, the emotion is gone, and instead there is hardened resolve within the golden flecks of his amber gaze. He is far from surprised when the proposal is made; he had felt it within the tender marrow of his bones – he knew from the moment he had spoken of Nayl and her displeasure. He had seen, firsthand, that Nerine could not provide the protection that it had promised – only fortified alliances and his own sharp wit could give to Hyaline what it wanted, what it deserved. Though there is still guilt ebbing away at him from within at the thought of his own son imparting the lesson upon the young King, he is certain it is one he would have learned in time regardless.
”An alliance is an alliance, Amet – it is for mutual benefit, and the thought of you seeking me out solely for protection never crossed my mind. In time, Hyaline will flourish, without Nerine to overshadow it. I am certain of it.” he pauses, then, thoughtful – Nerine had loyalty clutching tightly to Her, with those who were unwavering and resolutely to a long dead sisterhood, but it could not compare to Tephra. He is not hesitant. Let Nayl come, he doesn't say. Amet would not fight alone. ”Hyaline is the kind of alliance Tephra has been waiting for. As you promise to aid us in conflict, we will promise to do the same. Consider it done.”
OFFSPRING
another zealot with the weight of the fucking world.
