Reagan
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
After her conversation, standing here in this exact place, she had left. Or, more appropriately, had been left. Sobbing, staring at the waves as they rolled and crashed angrily against the seaside cliffs. Their exposed rock was slowly wearing away, giving into the sea's demands, sinking into the undertoe and becoming one with the abyss beneath. There was a constant breeze here, unshielded as she was. The unrelenting breeze did not stop as the wind currents blew back her mane, and she remembers staring out into the nothingness of the horizon, those tears being carried away from her face.
There were no trees in this part of Tephra, and it was almost as if it were its own entity, with the way the rugged terrain chose not to conform to the warm climate and the rich foliage. This land was untouched by the Volcano's reach, and Reagan found that its eccentricity gave her peace. It was real. It was honest. It did not fit in, and yet it was part of everything around her.
Just like she was.
She had been the missing piece of Tephra that had neatly inserted, and yet she had never exactly fit. Her life here was a quiet one, but after her time in the Taiga, it was safe to say that she was grateful for the quiet. She mostly lived on her own, cloaked in the shadow of the warmth provided by the Volcano, and proceeded to live her life as best she could.
She remembered the first time she had seen this land. She had commented to Magnus that the air smelled putrid, and asked him how it was possible that he could chose to live in such a rabble. The mottled buckskin—then king--had laughed off her rather rude comment as a mere quirk, and they had parted ways. The name Offspring had simply been a name back then. Of course she had known who he was—who wouldn't?--But she had her own life to live, her own kingdom to tend to. He had been someone else, and so had she. She had been caught in the blindness of her own making, assuming herself happy, assuming herself in love...
She had built a family on the premise of a lie. And when it came crashing down around her, and she was cast out of the home she had known--the home she herself had built, given life, given a name—it was Offspring who had saved her. Her title had never meant a thing—she had none then. Her powers meant nothing to him—she couldn't even control herself, let alone her magic. He had saved her—for no other reason than it was what he had to do.
And then, Reagan had known real life for the first time in nearly two hundred years.
Plug had been her first love. They had aided their king in the Forbidden Dale. Together, they created a legacy of kings, and queens, until she was able to stand on her own right. When Plug had died, she was sure she would never love again. And for many years, she did not.
She certainly had not truly lived since his death.
It's easy to pretend to be happy. It's easy to linger on, especially when your days stretch before you endlessly. Reagan had the ease of knowing that her days stretched on before her. No matter what she chose to do, she had the peace of mind in knowing that she had the time to do it. But it was for the first time in her entire life, that she was truly happy simply being her. And she had the time, she found, to contemplate her existence. She didn't need much. She found, after having visited the forest—for closure, and to say goodbye--that she didn't even need her trees anymore.
She found, that she was content.
She sighs, her mind turning back to the waves, unceasing in their pelting of the coastline. Her green eyes rolled with the waves, entranced. Sher then turns her thoughts to the last time she stood here, with Offspring, going over their conversation. When he told her to give him up. To be happy. To fall in love again. When he became angry at her, and she had gotten angry right back.
He had chosen to walk away from her, and she has not seen him in months. Away, she assumed. A gentle prick of his mind says that he is making the rounds, feeling his age, saying his goodbyes. Reagan smiles, blinking--another wave has crashed and a single tear is carried away into the wind. She has always been afraid to call him hers. Her Offspring.
She knows that he has known love before. So has she. 200 years would be very lonely without the feel of someone inside your heart—inside your body. The warmth that only coupling together can bring. But it is a meeting of minds and hearts that is a rare once in a lifetime opportunity. And, near the end of her life, she knows unequivocably, that she has met her equal in the black stallion that possessed her heart, and her mind.
She is not afraid of him. She has never had a reason to be.
They both knew they could end the other, and yet had chosen instead a friendship that had been unmatched in, at least in her estimation--either of their lives. Bedmates, co-parents, and lovers, surely. But, for her, the unrequited slow burn of Offspring's friendship—and his love—would be enough to sustain her for whatever measure she had left.
She loved him. Unmatched, unbroken, unyielding. And, in this moment, she would not be afraid to call him hers ever again. He could push her away, he could do whatever he felt was best for her happiness, her sense of self--she would let him. She would follow his lead, whatever it meant, but it did not have to mean the end of her happiness, or the end of her love of him. Offspring has known too much pain in his life--too much disloyalty (though she would be lying to say if he had not had some dark says, she has known those herself)--for her to blindly walk away from him. He needed steadfastness, and has never been shown the courtesy of a faithful love that would stand through both the Ice of the Tundra, and the Fires of Tephra—and beyond.
Her mind is heavy with all these thoughts and more, but it is simply rolled up into a statement that her thoughts were consumed by the one Object of her affection that she longed to see more than any other. He had left her in this place. and she knew that if he wanted to see her—and she hoped he did—that he would know where to find her.
Right where he left her...
Because she wasn't going anywhere.