"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 ebony equine realized two things since Sabra's resignation; since Brennen's coronation, the first being: he had actually spent more time off of the island than on it. Thus, he made a point of taking his time to get to know the tropical paradise. His preference was to stay beneath the canopy of the trees and, nest in caves. However, his desert lineage handled the balmy climate well. Unshod keratin supports refined limbs as they easily transport Jesper from the northern edge towards the heart of Ischia. The northern side received a cool breeze off of the vast sea and, catered to his desire to not bake. His jet black pelt absorbed every ray the daystar cast upon Beqanna and, the stallion often found himself too warm.
The second was: after Deiti, he had not sought any other family. Sure, the Brotherhood included blood relatives and, not. But, since many of the Brotherhood are direct descendents of Brennen, many Ischians are in fact, related to him. Jesper finds himself a bit surprised that he had not crossed paths sooner with an uncle or, cousin. Then again, he has been recovering for goodness knows how long. So, he made it a point to seek the crimson spotted stallion named Belgaer. The loyal winged steed was one of the first to answer his call for help at the River and, Jesper had not had a chance to thank him directly. Light whinny rings from vocal chords as he follows the trail towards his uncle's cologne.
Home had been a loose concept of late. Duty had kept him away more often then not, making it nearly impossible for him to find the time to enjoy the quiet peace of his beloved island. It was refreshing for him when he did have the opportunity to steal away a few moments of serenity, lost within the comforting fold of the tropical flora. The island was comfortingly unchanged, it’s roots and trees and sandy beaches all felt the same and, yet, so much appeared different. There was an energy that pulsed around him, an urgency to discern friend from foe. Somehow, the difference had gotten themselves confused and names he had once trusted had turned themselves to darkness, associating themselves with the very darkness he fought against.
His time beside Jesper had been short but revealing nonetheless. Astarael and Drax had both been briefly mentioned, stirring up question after question as Belgaer attempted to understand that role she played in the never-ending drama. Jesper was his nephew, her’s as well, and a fellow Kraken. Belgaer had a sworn duty to stand beside him and safeguard their values. Even so, he longed for an understanding of the things his mind refused to accept.
Breaking through the thinning underbrush, the coppered black stallion strode purposefully toward the son of Brennen. Jesper’s soft whinnied greeting elicited a smile from Belgaer’s hard lined lips.
Jesper! The chestnut greeted warmly, touching his nose to his Brother’s shoulder. You are looking well.
The once beaten and bruised stallion had come a long way from the barely conscious creature he had stumbled upon beside the river. Slowly Jesper was regaining his strength and Belgaer could see a light returning to the depths of his eyes. It was encouraging to witness and he was glad to have played a part, however small, in his retrieval.
Rubbery labrums curve into a warm smile as his copper-toned Uncle's expression lightens with recognition and, excitement. Bronze-tipped lobes prick forwards upon their intended target while aquamarine orbs search Belgaer's face. His profile is unmistakably that of Brennen's. He catches the chestnut's greeting before ebony equine extends his whiskered muzzle to bump into the older steed's nose. Jesper takes a moment to draw in his familiar cologne before he draws his muzzle back towards his mature chest. Polls dips briefly, with gratitude, as the winged male compliments him. He had not exactly rushed the healing process though, he also refused to lay around, wallowing in the past. He maintains his gentle smile as he replies in a warm tone. "Thank you, Belgaer. I have you to thank for getting me this far. So, Thank you."
With the formality out-of-the-way, Jesper decides to take this time to get to know his Uncle. There was a point in his life where his only mission was to find his family and, learn as much as he could. Now, with his recent mission to remind him how much he had to fight for and, with the certain threat of war looming ahead of them, Jesper thought it best to connect with as much of his blood as possible. He did not want to head into battle without the true value of his family. He decided to start with a simple question and, hopefully, Belgaer would be open to sharing. "I want to say that I am sorry it has taken us so long to catch up. I know things have been wild, lately. How are you?"
Chestnut met ebony as the two stallions stood side by side. Draped beneath the canopy of tropical trees the chill of the season touched Belgaer's thickening coat. Jesper's compliment felt misplaced among the calm of their meeting. Yes, he had been among the first to stumble upon the bronze tipped horse, but it was hardly deserving of praise. He did no more than any other brother would have. Or, at least, that was what he hoped. Gazing upon the dark stud, it was almost impossible to believe that they were of the same blood, in more ways than one. Complicated bloodlines were not an uncommon occurance - especially when spawned from one who had lived such a long life. Brennen's immortality had allowed him to bring an endless supply of children into the world, Jesper was a byproduct of one of Belgaer's many half-sisters. Similarly, Belgaer suspected that he would see him own line expand and grow alongside the ever changing tide of time. Immortality would see him remain unchanged while everything ended and began in natural sequence.
Jesper, however, had already shook hands with mortality and, somehow, he had managed to escape from its cruel grip. Having survived, Belgaer began to wonder if his nephew possessed the same gift of never ending life. That was only one of the many questions that tormented the chestnut in regards to the many secrets of Sylva.
I am well, Belgaer replied to his nephew's inquiry, almost robotically. Glad to be home, he admitted with a slight grin. And you, Jesper, I know you went through a terrible ordeal. Should you wish to talk with anyone...
Even to his own ears, the offer sounds odd and disjointed - words would never be enough to heal the wounds of all he'd been forced to endure.
As bronze-tipped lobes pick up his uncle's reply, Jesper sighs. A sigh of relief that Belgaer was doing well. He knew his uncle had seen to many tasks that required urgency and sensitivity. With Beqanna on the brink of war, the black is aware of the toll preparations would take upon his Brothers and Sisters. He continues to listen as the winged chestnut speaks. In response, Jesper offers a warm smile out of gratitude. He appreciates his uncle's offer and, genuine concern. All things aside, sharing his experience as a Sylvan captive could only benefit others - Belgaer included. That is why he volunteered to subject himself, after all.
Jesper gathers his thoughts and, organizes his words before he speaks. "I appreciate your concern and, your offer. I am healing. I find it helps to live in the moment." Jesper pauses for a moment to take a couple of breaths. He has no qualms discussing what happened. Which prompts him to continue, "You know, I would be happy to share what I learned, Belgaer. I volunteered to go to Sylva so I could help us better understand what we would be going up against. I do not mind, in the least. Where would you like me to start? I know you knew Astarael before she left; before she changed. Were you two close?"
The bronze and black stallion had changed. The unavoidable truth of his trauma had left its scars both mentally and physically and Belgaer sensed a strength within him that was both admirable and encouraging. The torture he had been forced to endure would have been enough to break even the best of them, yet somehow, he had found a way to survive and make his way back to them. Hidden behind layers of formality, however, Belgaer sensed his nephew’s hesitation and fear. The meeting with the allies had taken its toll on him, the reliving of his torment only serving to plant the seeds of terror deeper within him. Belgaer had wished to be there, but he felt it was more prudent for him to give Jesper his moment and space. It did not take a scholar for him to know that the black stallion’s sacrifice had been invaluable to their cause. Listening intently the gnawing within the chestnut’s gut grew in its intensity. The mention of his sister’s name, Astarael, stiffened his body. Closeness had always been a difficult thing to interpret when it came to her. Different than the rest of them she had found joy in lurking within the shadows and had almost seemed to prefer the companionship of the shadows. She had always been the sibling to stir up worry within him – if only he had anticipated all that she would have become. He would have ended her there – even as a young child.
“You mentioned that she has changed?” Belgaer began unsure how to begin his line of questioning without upsetting his nephew. It was nearly impossible for him to think of her as anything but the petite bay filly she had been during her time upon the island. “Astarael was never close to anyone. She found amusement in her talents for observation. Looking back it frightens me to admit that there were many times I believed she knew more of my motivations that even I did. Jesper, she is not to be taken lightly – I fear the knowledge she had carried with her.”
Belgaer’s voice drifted off and forced himself to inhale sharply to calm the raging sea within him. Now was not the time for him to lose his good sense. Ischia needed him – His father needed him.
Jesper
