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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    Rodrik.
    #1
    The Queens have been busy with their hoard of children, almost hilariously so. Having only raised three children, and each decades apart, I'm almost without sympathy; but that's not to say that I'm without pride. Yes, I am proud of my daughters, and most certainly impressed, too. In the shadows of our willow grove, Insignificance and I laugh together about the thought of having raised three children at once - never mind three, and three older ones who are still relatively dependent. She is good to me, that one; good, and growing older by the minute...

    I leave her today with Rhaegor by my side. While I love all my grandchildren equally, the little mute is closest to my heart. His handicap leaves a sour taste in my mouth and a twist in my gut, but somehow and sadly, it's fitting; the defect skips a generation and has yet to run out of our family's genetics, it would seem. My father was mute, and my first son Bergamot is mute as well; now, Kagerus' son. I often blamed myself for the passing on of this trait in my youth, but in my elderliness, I find more doting within myself than any self-blame.

    "Who are we meeting?" Came the colt's tiny, whispy voice. My gaze falls down to him lovingly, mouth finding the scruff of his forelock. There's a secret smile on my lips; the defect must be receding slowly, for this little mute is capable of some speech when with those he devotedly trusts. I am lucky to be one of those people. Shaking myself from this thought, I raise my lips and reply, eyes going to the horizon where lies the border which we gradually approach.

    "Your great-uncle Rodrik. He looks rather funny, but I know you can deal with it. Your mother invited him to meet you in her dreams; she knows that it would be important and special to him to meet you. You're named after our father, your great-grandfather, though I know you know that. But come; he will be here soon, so put on your game face."

    "I always have my game face on."

    Grinning and chuckling throatily, I come to rest in a small basin along the rolling hills of Hyaline's southern entrance. We both lower our golden heads (buckskin, though I am greying terribly) to graze, and occasionally, I lift mine to scan for my broken-souled brother, he whom I have subtly taken care of since before I can remember. There's a nervous energy as we wait; but most of all, anticipation.

    @[Rodrik]
    #2

    She had come to him in a dream—a place he often wishes he could remain forever—inviting him to come give their family a visit. He was surprised to hear that his own flesh and blood, Kavi, was living there in Hyaline. Even more news was added to the invitation as well, the birth of triplets, though one was named after his on mute father.

    Curiosity sparked his interest to go to Hyaline. After all, he had said he would come pay a visit to see his niece’s ruling land when they had last met. And how could he deny seeing his own brother? The years had been long and he yearned to see his once rambunctious younger brother.

    Rodrik made his way easily from his confined home, Taiga, to Hyaline. The familiarity of the ancient redwood trees gave him comfort. It was a comfort that filled the hollowed void within himself—a soul that was there but was not. There would never be a soul within the red devil. No matter how much he might try it would always fail. He was a sinner, a prisoner to the darkness within him. A chained wild-animal that only fed on creating chaos and reaping evil into the land.

    But somehow, within his stone-cold heart, there was a love for his family. It was his family that made him hold just a little more onto his humanity while the darkness within it tried to rip it apart. Without his family he would be lost and surely fall into the very hands of the chaos and destruction that brew like a wild hurricane within him.

    Eventually, the skin and boned red devil finds himself at the southern entrance of Hyaline. Just below the rolling hills he can make out two figures—an old fellow and a younger colt. Rodrik already knows these are his family. A smile grips tight onto his eaten, rotted flesh. It lifts up and makes his dead beating heart filled with what would be called happiness. It barely ever fills his aching heart, but today is different than all of the other days.

    Rodrik gives a soft call to announce his arrival to the others. He crosses over the border without invitation just as arrogantly as he would have done before when he wore a crown before the Reckoning—but today he has been invited by residents of Hyaline.

    “Kavi!” he greets when reaching the duo within hearing distance. “Have you come back from the dead without telling me, old man?” The red stallion cracks a joke easily, as if they have not been years apart from each other. Rodrik then comes to a slow stop before his younger brother and great-nephew. “It’s been far too long.” He reaches out to his brother—forget the smell of a decaying body and flesh and bone—he had to embrace him.

    When he is done embracing Kavi, Rodrik turns to look down upon the young colt. H peers at him colorful with hollowed, nutmeg eyes. It is those dark brown eyes that make him feel like he is looking into his own father’s eyes, (although these are much younger eyes). “And you must be Rhaegor,” he says lastly before falling silent.
    character info: here | character reference: here | image © rostyslav zagornov

    @[Kavi]
    #3


    I kept my hope just like i'd hoped to
    then sang to the sea for feelings deep blue

    It's almost strange, seeing that demon of a man (my beloved brother, he who played war with me amidst the Jungle vines and who shaped me into who I am today) walking into this kingdom. Although the lands here are beginning to shape themselves into specific ideologies, they will never be as set as they used to be: men, women, traited, untraited, light, neutral, dark. Rodrik comes now to a Sanctuary, to a land where his family rules - we are a long, weary line of rulers it would seem, and perhaps it's that which strikes me as so peculiar. He comes now, broken and most likely weary, to a kingdom ruled by his niece, when once, he had been the one on the thrown.

    But I won't tell him any of that, by any means! I prefer this man now, shackled still to evil, but more willing to embrace his softer sides; the weight of the crown no longer presses him to darkness as it once did.

    When the call comes, little Rhaegor's shapely head pops up from where it had been absently grazing, a reserved but undeniably excited smile accompanying the powerful perking of his ears. A snort trumpets from his wide, chocolate brown nostrils in response; the loudest sound he is capable of making in the face of strangers. I grin to hear his effort, knowing that it's uncommon for him; but then, my name is being thrown along the wind, and my attention flies elsewhere.

    "Brother."

    I am taking long, determined strides towards him, such that I barely catch his poke at my age; by the time he's commenting on how long it's been since our last reunion, we are in each's other's embraces. I close my eyes in the strong, masculine touch... And yet somehow, as I breathe in the scent of his decaying flesh, I am reminded of our mother, and our father. We are both of them in our own rights - and together, it's almost as if their essence is with us.

    We pull apart, and by now, I've formulated a response to his jibe, my lips quirking into a huge and crooked grin as I speak. "It would seem that immortality has caught me at the most laughable of times, and what a pair of immortals we make. One rotting, and the other halfway to having dust for bones; the universe has a cruel sense of humour."

    Remembering myself - or rather, remembering he who is not myself - I step back, allowing Rhaegor to come forward. He does, with a subtle confidence and a gleam in his eye that suggests an understanding far vaster than one his age ought to have. I watch as the two stare at one another unblinkingly, barely breathing, either; the wings atop the gangly colt's scrawny back twitch once, but then stay absolutely still. He's concentrating, I think to myself. He wants to be everything we have dreamt of...

    And you must be Rhaegor.

    After a moment's pause, the boy - about fourteen hands these days - gives a slow, calculated nod. Then, in such a way that leaves my chest tight, the boy leans forward with his ears laid submissively back, eyes cast up towards his uncle's face as he goes to press his dark muzzle against the rotting skin of his uncle's shoulder. My own amber eyes flash to Rodrik's, their brims filling with tears whose emotion I can't quite place; but what I can place is this:

    The boy is showing his respect; his regard; he knows who he is named after, and he knows his place...
    I tuck my chin to my chest, attempting to contain myself, though I've rarely been able to before.

    Rhaegor


    @[Rodrik]
    [Image: rhae]
    #4

    There is something around seeing and being with his family that changes him. He feels lighter. Every part of darkness scatters away from him, the light slowly but surely distinguishing the light.

    Rodrik finds humor quickly in his younger brother’s words. “Immortal now you say?” He looks over the old man, analyzing the way his body has found old age. The chestnut lets out a laugh when he finally gets a good look at Kavi. “You have to be kidding me!” Surely it was a joke, but he definitely could believe that Beqanna had a special way of humoring and playing tricks on them.

    “At least I will have you always then, brother,” he says with joy.

    He would not fear losing someone else that he loved. His own parents might have passed away ages ago, but he carries their death close to his heart. Kavi, as much as he had been an annoying brother when they both had been younger, is someone he could never give up.

    The red devil’s eyes are now onto the young boy. He already stands tall (something tells Rodrik he will one day be strong and a warrior perhaps, just like his father). There is pride in his eyes as he stares at the boy, but when he comes closer, Rodrik is surprised.

    Rhaegor’s touch is almost unfamiliar—the way a child will come and shows his respect. It has been long since he has felt something like this, something he once had felt for his own father. He accepts the kind gesture from his newly met nephew. In return, Rodrik lowers his muzzle to the boy’s, showing his own respect for him as well.

    He shares the gaze with Kavi for just a moment. Rodrik can see the tears filling his eyes. It almost sends tears filling his own eyes, but he looks away instead. It would not be the place or time for him to feel these emotions. It was only in those times of being alone that he allowed the turmoil to take him (even if they were rather unusual and rare).

    “You would have liked him, Rhaegor,” he says breaking his brief silence. Concealing his emotions with something else only made this easier for him, to keep himself distracted. But in a time like this, seeing the very image of his father in a younger version and Kavi, made things not so much simpler.

    Rodrik continues forward, a thought entering to his head. It could be possible, he thinks suddenly, Would it be enough though? The chestnut stallion looks at Kavi for a moment trying to confirm his own idea and thought. “What if we could see dad again, Kavi?” He asks softly. Would it kill them both to see their father once more? “I can make it happen.”
    character info: here | character reference: here | image © rostyslav zagornov

    @[Sid]
    #5

    I kept my hope just like i'd hoped to
    then sang to the sea for feelings deep blue

    As I watch my grandson and my brother interact, a deep gratitude swells my heart; were it not for the foundation built long ago on the soil of the Jungle, I would never get to know Rodrik this way; as soft, vulnerable; as someone he once was and who he has strayed so far from since the day he left our vine-strewn kingdom. But I do not cast any judgement on his soul, for hadn't there been a time when I too had partaken in his specific breed of darkness, acting as high-priest for the flames he served so fullheartedly? No, I feel only gratitude to be so close to his heart, and him to mine - forever, now. For good, as laughable as the whole ordeal might seem.

    But the scene which plays out is not laughable, though its gravity is utterly respectable. Rodrik lowers his head after a moment's pause to find the boy's, accepting his show of humility with grace. His glowering eyes find mine, but only momentarily, their depths flashing elsewhere in what I guess is an effort to save face. I've always been the more vulnerable brother; younger, but also just different in nature. He'd been the king, and I'd always been his shadow; but I don't mind the life of servitude, for he was a worthy king, and indeed, my most beloved brother. I find no shame in having lived my life as I did.

    My eyes are clearing as he next addresses Rhaegor. The young buckskin steps back to listen, ears perked handsomely; he nods in affirmation of his uncle's statement. "I hope to do him justice." The colt's voice is whispy, barely more than a breeze through some leaves; but it's there all the same, a testimony to the intense connectedness Rhae feels to his uncle. I choke upon realizing he's spoken, and I nearly set into my grandpa-ish emotional messiness again, but then Rodrik is speaking to me - clippedly - with the subtle urgency of one on the brink of something that I daren't deny him my full attention.

    What if we could see dad again, Kavi?
    I can make it happen.


    "Rodrik..." My throat is dry, thoughts flying through my skull too quickly to be pinned down and used for critical thinking. "Would it - would it hurt him?" My brow furrows, a desperation I hadn't known I had building and building and building until I can't deny it. Father had died so long ago, decades, that the pain of his absence is now more memory than anything tangible. But in the idea of seeing him now, the wound reopens, and I find myself saying what perhaps I ought not.

    "I want to see him again, Rodrik. And - he could meet Rhaegor."

    Rhaegor


    @[Rodrik]
    [Image: rhae]
    #6

    He knows the dead should be left for what they are. The world of the living and undead were not meant to be toyed with. It was a dark magic he did not ever want to dabble within. The chaotic events and destruction he could have dire consequences.

    But he cannot help himself, and neither could his younger brother.

    If there was a price to be paid, he would be the sacrifice. He had sold his soul long ago to the monster within him—the darkness that ruled over him. What more could he lose now?

    “It would not hurt him,” he says with affirmation looking into Kavi’s eyes.

    Truthfully, he is not sure though. He has not dabbled into the other world. There had never been a need for him to open the curtain between the living and the dead. Until now.

    Rodrik nods his head in confirming his younger brother’s answer. “I think father would like that,” he adds with a soft smile. It is all that he can manage right now. Showing a more positive side of what he was going to attempt was for the sake of his great-nephew. After all, Rhaegor was family and he deserved to meet the member of their family he was named after.

    The red devil takes a step back from where he stands. He needs room for what he is about to do, or at least attempt to do. Rodrik did not plan on bringing him entirely back. Divination was completely out of the question since his body had so long ago withered away with a land that no longer exist.

    He then turns around, facing the same way the other two horses are facing. It would be best for them to be able to see what he was doing with them both at his side. Rodrik needed to be the shield in case something went wrong, in case another spirit of the undead world decided to step in. Was it even possible that another spirit could? He has no idea, but it was better to be prepared just in case.

    “I can only summon the ghost of him,” he tells them, letting them know what they are to expect. Rodrik gives them a slight nod of his head as he turns to both of them before looking forward. He then fixates on a point several feet away from their small cluster.

    He can feel the power within him instantly pull together. The force of working his necromancy power is always in reach within seconds. It flows through his veins, twisting and turning through his body. It is engraved within his bones, sewed within his tendons and pulling his muscles together. He is everything death.

    It bends to his will instantly. The earth from where he focuses on begins to move slowly as if the wind is there swirling the grass of blades and dirt. It rises slowly into a small whirlwind. There is a soft howling that can heard. It grows louder as soon as a glowing white light appears and swirls with the small whirlwind from where he fixates. Slowly the small whirlwind of dirt, grass, and glowing white light begin to take form. The limbs of a horse’s legs are chiseled one by one along with a muscular body, mane and tail. Eventually the entire form of his father is there, starring at the three of them. The ghost of Rhaego says nothing to them, but only stares at them (but he is truly staring at Rodrik only).

    “Father,” he states, his tone is commanding as he stares at his father. He knows very well that he is in command of his father. He can feel the undead soul within his grip, it fills him with power and darkness, but he does not hold onto it. He dares not give in to the darkness that he has brought out from the world. It was not him, not the person he used to be.

    He can hear them calling out to him. The souls that he harbors. It screams within his ears, fill his head with thousands of thoughts and cries for help. He shakes his head, taking a step forward. “Focus,” he tells himself out loud.

    The red stallion takes another step forward towards the ghostly figure of his father. “Rhaego,” he speaks again. The voices silence within his head once more. “You are free to speak,” he directs, though his tone is not commanding but filled with love this time, “Please say something.” Anything, please! He hopes that he has done it right. If not he would have to act quickly to get rid of his apparition.

    A long drawn silence fills in between his words to the ghost-like figure of Rhaego. It is obvious that he understands what Rodrik had said. The movement of his ears perking forward and the way he moves his gaze as Rodrik came closer indicate there is something there, a soul of some sort.

    “Rodrik and Kavi,” the silence breaks by the ghostly Rhaego. Rodrik lets out a gasp of relief suddenly after hearing his father. A smile grows across his face. “It has been so long… You both look so well,” Rhaego speaks again, turning to look at each of his sons. An expression of delight across over his wispy features. Rhaego then turns to look at the younger colt, Rhaegor. “And who might this be?” He asks with a tilt of his misty, airy head.
    character info: here | character reference: here | image © rostyslav zagornov

    @[Rhaegor]
    #7

    I kept my hope just like i'd hoped to
    then sang to the sea for feelings deep blue

    It would not hurt him, comes my brother's reply. My throat squeezes, though such an answer ought to have brought joy.
    I think father would like that. This loosens my muscles, sending a crooked smile to my warm brown lips. I hold Rodrik's gaze for a second, thinking how similar our expressions are, those his is rotting. For a moment, I wonder if father will appear as such too - I have no concept of the magics that extend beyond simple immortality and some colourful patterns upon my skin. But I trust Rodrik to do right by our sire, and so, say nothing of my concern.

    As Rodrik steps back, Rhaegor steps forward. I want to laugh at the eagerness of the child but instead find myself tucking him to my chest, holding him still such that he does not interfere with his great-uncle's concentration. When my brother turns his back to us, as if making himself an audience to what is about to happen, my shoulders shake off some invisibly weight. "Be still, my child," I murmur to Rhaegor as he shudders in my grasp, vibrating with what I expect to be excitement but what I am worried may turn into fear. "Be still."

    Rodrik speaks then, as Rhae concentrates on grounding his energy; the red devil explains what the extents of his powers are. I am relieved to hear that we will not be seeing the tatters of dust that by now make up our father's corporeal remains. Still, I find myself holding my breath, meeting Rodrik's gaze a final time before he turns away.

    Although we are not a part of his power, a coolness comes over both myself and my grandson as the third begins his work. The first tangible sign of magic is the movement in the grass not far ahead, a movement which becomes a stir and then a small whirlwind. It takes me more than a moment to realize that the fixtures of earthly items are building themselves in a predestined shape - more than that, in a shape that slaps me in the face with its familiarity. By the time his chest and neck are rendering themselves out of grass, I know the figure to be my father's. Now it is Rhaegor who must hold me back, himself transfixed in something of an awe-struck horror of the magic before us.

    I want to rush to him; but in the silence that comes after the ghost's materialization, I know that I ought'n't move. Perhaps not even to breathe.

    Father.
    Nothing.
    Focus.
    A shake of his head, a step forward, the telltale signs of concentration and effort that I alone can recognize from my brother's death-riddled features.
    Rhaego.
    I touch my grandson's neck, allowing myself past him until my chest is just behind my brother's heels. The child follows too, staying behind and to the side as I have.
    You are free to speak.
    At the sudden sound of unadulterated love flowing from my brother's lips, tears spring to my eyes; I am privileged enough to hear that voice far more often than many who come across the red devil, but hearing it now in its complete form nearly sends me to my knees. I have not heard such a voice since we were both boys playing at war in the Jungle; since our father came along and showed us how to stand up right when preparing for battle, even just for sport between young brothers.
    Please say something.

    "I am here too, father." My own voice rings achingly, a barely contained desperation in its depths; I have always known myself lesser than Rodrik in these ways, when it comes to handling emotions. Perhaps different and not lesser, but old habits and old ideas about where one stands in relation to another die hard; I choke on anything else I might want to say, scared to fuck this up and to break my brother's heart for my own stupidity.

    But after a long, drawn out silence, it would seem that neither of us are to have our hearts broken today. Not by disappointment, anyhow.

    Rodrik and Kavi. The sound of my name upon my father's lips leaves me echoing Rodrik's gasp with a quiet sob, though no others follow it. Without hesitation now I bring myself alongside my brother with grandson in tow, amber eyes brimming with tears and searching the apparition's face as if I might find answers long sought in the blades of grass found there. A crooked grin trembles on my lips; and when I glance to Rodrik, I see a similar expression dancing upon what remains of his.

    I want to say something, to speak to him at length of my life and my dreams and my lovers and my children, oh gods my children, but he is too keen even in ghosthood; with an expression not unlike the one his sons wear, Rhaego turns to investigate the youth brought before him, asking after him with a tilt of his mist-filled head.

    The boy steps forward, unafraid in the eyes of a ghost. Blue light radiates from him in ripples, a type of energy-release that I've never seen him exhibit before. My lips part to make the introductions - but a voice as wispy as the figure that makes up our father speaks instead, and I am left to silently watch.

    "My name is Rhaegor, and I am your great-grandson... It is very nice to meet you, though I've known I would for quite some time now. Will you tell me stories about you? And may I listen if you speak to grandpa and uncle Rodrik? I can tell you about me, too - but I," and here the usually silent boy pauses, dropping his gaze before lifting it again. "I don't want to waste what time we have with you." Stepping forward, the colt gently presses his neck to the broad front of the apparition, barely touching Rhaego and yet curling beneath his might as only a child can.

    I look to Rodrik.
    I thank the gods for him in silence.

    Rhaegor


    @[Rodrik]
    I am happy to end the thread here and we can assume that they all get a nice chat in about stories and how much they miss each other and what not - if this inspires you to post again, then by all means Wink let me know in the cbox sometime! And I loved this thread, even if it took 2 months. So freakin worth it.
    [Image: rhae]




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