"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
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
Whatever is best for the baby, it’s not best for him. Not for Roseen either, though she probably has it a little better than he. Having the kid around, at least, teaching him the ways of life -
He sighs, standing above a cliff and looking at the waves beyond, hearing the salty water crash on the rocks below, seagulls crying in the distance because it is fall and they are gathering, it seems, to survive the winter together as a group. Ironically, it takes his mind to his own family, the one he’d created without thinking twice, and not only the one time with Briseis, but the season after, he’d done it all over again. He causes drama wherever he goes, he thinks - it was perhaps his undoing that Briseis was too timid and did not hold him accountable for anything, and with Chryseis being such a perfect little girl, there had been nothing to warn him that perhaps he shouldn’t do that all over again.
Plus, he’d been so mad at himself for casting Breckin out and entirely convinced he would never see her again, or if he did she would be with someone else and that would be the end of it.
And the end of him.
He’d let his emotions get the better of him more than once, but when all else failed, crashed down the mountain with the purpose of ending it all. He wonders if Breckin ever told anyone, but he doesn’t think so. He doubts Roseen knows. Or even should know. He told Chryseis that he had been made immortal, but not the circumstances, and if he could help it, that would be all came to know until she was grown up. Same for the boys - that is, Ophanim maybe. He’s pretty sure he won’t be able to tell Thorgal about his mistakes.
He can only hope the boy is smarter than him and won’t have to go through a similar thing to learn. He’d rather just tell him how it works, love, and that if it doesn’t fade, you have to cling to it and don’t let go, never let go, not the way he did anyway. Always ask, never assume.
But the thoughts are just that, as he absentmindedly stares at the gulls in the distance.
HTML by Vanilla Custard, picture by x-celebri-x on deviantart
@[Roseen]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
Her son was off exploring on his own again, leaving his sooty mother to herself. She had already shown Thorgal most of Nerine, but she supposed there was a certain excitement with being trusted to be on your own. She loved him beyond compare, and was proud that he wasn’t afraid of being on his own. He wanted to make friends, but he wasn’t desperate for it. He neither sought out isolation, nor did he feel as if he couldn’t live around others. He did things at his own pace, and didn’t let cruel reality put him down.
Roseen smiled softly, though a little sadly. She just wished Leilan had come to visit every once in a while. Then he too would be equally proud of the young stallion their son was growing to be. They hadn’t spoken since Thorgal’s birth. And even then she had told him that he was allowed to visit, if only as a friend. Back then, after they had gone separate ways she was too afraid to seek him out, to tell him that she had finally calmed down and thought things over properly, that she had made a different decision. But now, she wasn’t afraid. There was something different between the mare she is now, and the mare Leilan last knew. One was a broken, frightened, and weak mare. While the other is a full blown mother. Having the precise life of her son in her hands, she had changed over the course of time. If Leilan saw her again he’d find she was a completely different mare now.
Not knowing where her feet had taken her, she looked up to see where she was going. Crashing wave from down below sounded in her ears, the scent of salt along with the sight of an endless ocean reaching out in the distance like vast land. The cliff was just ahead of her, a slight breeze sweeping past with the chill of both autumn and the sea.
But she wasn’t alone. The figure of another horse was there, standing at the cliffs edge.
After taking in a deep breath and slowly releasing it, she continued onward and approached the stallion. “Hello, Leilan,” her voice was soft spoken, sweet and rich like honey and smooth like silk. Another thing motherhood taught her to do.
She wasn’t sure how to act around him now that he was there standing before her. He might be angered again if she acted as though their fight had never happened, and yet, he might feel as if there’s no chance of letting it go and moving on, possibly becoming friends, if she acted as if she was still troubled by their last meeting. So she did nothing but say hello, showing her kindness and hoping he would see the difference in her now.
His reaction would tell her what she needed to know.
even if you feel all alone, it can’t rain everyday, it don’t rain forever
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside could have so many ragged holes inside
He doesn’t visit - doesn’t do what she asked. Pretending to be a family friend to her and Thorgal is pretending that the mare and he are alright, and pretending he’s not the boy’s father. He doesn’t want to mentally orphan the kid. Besides, the boy would pick up on the tension between them.
Whatever she had thought when she offered him that tiny bit, it wasn’t going to work.
And so he refused it, because it wasn’t going to be good enough.
He doesn’t know why she wants him to visit at all. Why she feels a need to put him to the test instead of just use her damn eyes and ears to make her decisions based on the other horses’ stories, if she cares that much. Or why she doesn’t just take the boy and move elsewhere, pretend his father is someone who died or something of the like - it would kill him, but probably not much more than it does now. Staying in Nerine. Like holding out a piece of candy in hopes of getting him to move into the trap she’d laid out.
He doesn’t want that.
What he does want, is a chance to explain. No, he doesn’t. It wouldn’t matter to her, he’s sure about that. She would just cling to her side of the story. When someone tells you they’re not lying, either they are lying about that too, or they really don’t - either way, no-one could ever have the truth of it.
He’d briefly considered asking Breckin to just share his memory with Roseen, too. The ones he’d shown her when he came back home and give her the choice of what to do with his lousy self, since he didn’t know what made her happy any more. But he doesn’t want to burden his queen with any more of this than what is part of it is already eating at her. That she doesn’t admit it, doesn’t mean he doesn’t know. Doesn’t feel it. He knows where she came from (before she became a Leviathan, before she became queen); in fact, safe for the desperation with which Roseen had wanted to find her perfect love and little family, the sooty bay had not been much different from the spotted mare. Too low a self-esteem to be truly healthy for them - now, sometimes he wondered if the encouraging he did to work that self-consciousness into something they’d be proud of, wasn’t working against him. Wouldn’t it be easier if he was what Roseen said that he was - one to take their self-doubt and use it against them? It feels so wrong though, and he can’t fatom why anyone would; if there’s nothing left of those insecure girls but a scared body, then they’d be not much different from a walking corpse.
One only sees what they want to, he supposes. It’s only when the sooty mare speaks that he notices her, but he doesn’t move a muscle for a while, thinking she’ll probably not want to be near him at all and was just trying to pretend to be polite, but would go.
When she doesn’t leave, he finally caves and asks, though he still doesn’t really look at her, his voice sounding tired. He’s so tired of all of this. How should he see the difference if he wasn’t actually allowed near her? Sure, she’d said he was, but he knows she doesn’t really want him to. It had been quite clear that she wanted none of what he could offer, last spring.
”What do you want, Roseen?” There’s no malice, only the flat sound of someone too tired to bother with the fight any longer. ”If you’ve come to hurt me some more, just get it over with.” Because he sure as hell doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do that would make any difference at all. He’s not trusted, and that stinks, but it’s not like he could magically change what happened or simply make himself look more trustworthy all of a sudden.
It’s an endless circle, of thoughts he can’t break out of, of things dropped and picked back up and put down. It’s killing him, but, he guesses that’s what she wants, otherwise she wouldn’t give him such impossible fake-solutions; wouldn’t have laid out this kind of a trap.
HTML by Vanilla Custard, picture by x-celebri-x on deviantart
@[Roseen]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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