The call is jarring: not a noise or a sight but a gate ripping open in Litotes’ mind. The cold Hyaline wind tugs furiously at his skin as he lurches upward from his sleep, eyes still half-closed and groggy. A brittle cough rattles his frame and echoes through the cave that spreads behind him. Slowly, painfully, and begrudgingly he opens his crusted eyes. i don't want your pity, i just want somebody near me
Hyaline spreads cruelly before him. What once kept him alive now traps him: Lie cannot (will not) leave the land and infect others. His duty to Solace and Kagerus is the only weight he can bear. Truthfully, that is almost too much for him, because those who are not ill may become ill when he redirects them. His guilt is ugly, but his drive is perpetual even in its weakest moments.
Today, Litotes is fragile in body and mind but he is not defeated (not yet, perhaps never).
The gate in his mind now has howling wind whipping and screeching through its blackened pathway. The path is all he can think about: the dark singing of the wind as it pushes his legs stumbling forward; and that is just what is doing, he realizes, stumbling forward in such a manner that it appears he is being forced. Lie violently shakes his head, his thick mane slapping his neck and completely covering his eyes. The tickling of his hair brings him back to reality: the sun slowly rising, the melancholy singing of winter birds, and the seemingly constant blanket of snow.
Lie stops, turns his head around to stare solemnly back at the cave he has been sheltering in. He allows himself one thought before pressing onward:
Will he forever be dragged to his destiny? Will he succumb to his selfish pain always?
The trip to the Mountain is short. Hyaline borders the steep slope, one that Litotes has been avoiding since Warlight first welcomed him. At the base, he stops and stares at the climb ahead. In his hesitation, he convinces himself to turn back. With a sigh and an exhausted drop his skull, the cremello turns and begins to trudge away.
Not even five seconds into his defeat, a tiny and angrily mewling kitten slams full force into the stallion’s drooping head. He rears his head back, whinnying and stomping harmlessly at the cat. Lie’s companion screeches and hops about, swatting in a truly feline fashion at his legs. When the two finally settle down, Rune (what his familiar had demanded to be called) glares defiantly up at him.
“I may be small but I’m not letting you turn around. This is your duty, Lie. You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t go and I don’t want to listen to you mope about this for the next three months,” the irritated, feminine projection echoes in his mind, a trick the kit had mastered to get her point across.
“Plus, this may give some insight to the, ya know, lion thing,” and with that last jab, Rune rolls her eyes and plops down. Lie drops to his knees and allows the sand cat to nest into his shoulders. Admittedly, the warmth of the sassy beast brings him comfort. When Rune senses the stallion’s relief, she begins to purr and projects her satisfaction.
When the two arrive, there is already a crowd milling about. Lie observes the called as they come, perking up when Solace and Kagerus arrive, and finally settling into the shared comfort of Rune. He recognizes almost no one - that coupled with the mystical and disappointed presences of the fairies makes him uneasy.
A fairy steps forward, icy in appearance and personality. Both Rune and Lie quit their mild bickering and peer nervously ahead. His speech is short, cold, and to the point: go to the pond no matter the cost, begin to stitch the wound your actions created. The stallion sighs, begins to recluse into his thoughts yet again when the fairy’s last words hit him. Rune fits in be safe, before their connection is rendered useless.
The wall is up - Lie feels naked and cold, now feverous and frightened without the only company he has held these last few weeks. Rune disappears into the crowd of shuffling horses, her tail quickly vanishing from sight. The only good coming from this is the complete and utter lack of the lion-shifting he is still scared of.
The mass spreads about, each finding their own path to take. Litotes decides he will travel through Hyaline, knowing that he needs to go north and almost nothing else.
Familiar terrain cradles the stallion’s feeble stability. He knows the trip will become treacherous having never travelled to Taiga, Nerine, or the Isle. As Hyaline passes, so does her snow, mountains, and lake. Already Lie misses Rune, remembering a new memory of her as each landmark passes. The lake is the hardest for Kensa’s liver chestnut body running through its depths stretches right before his eyes. He almost runs to her, the memory so visceral that she is just - right - there; but he does not stray. No matter the call of Kensa’s sweet embrace, no matter the haunting images of his father, no matter - no matter - no matter.
He must press on.
Next is the tiniest strip of Taiga: Lie chose to travel through the heart of Hyaline and along Beqanna’s eastern-most shoreline. Luckily, because his time in Taiga is short, he is mostly able to sense his way through the impossibly tall and wide redwoods. Though the cremello wants to make his trip as quick as possible, he knows he must rest here, for Hyaline’s cold winter is no forgiving mistress.
The redwoods are reliable and kind, with bark that does not bother the skin while one rests against it. And that is just what Litotes is doing: leaning wholeheartedly into the tree, eyes closed and breathe heaving. A few coughs ring out as the fever washes over his body, sending ripple after ripple of freezing goosebumps across his flesh. He thinks he may die here, burnt out and foolish in a land completely foreign.
Litotes collapses, muzzle buried in the fragrant pine needles. He will not die here, but he will not go on.
As he is lying there, limp and sweaty, he remembers - remembers the way his father gave up as flames licked and spread around him, remembers the way his mother screamed when his father refused to move, remembers both of their ashy skeletons and the jarring lack of his brother. He remembers the smell, the taste, the salt of his tears, and suddenly he knows the fate of Beqanna if he does not try. He knows the weight of his guilt, the nagging of Rune, the danger to his loved ones.
He must be better; he swore he would be better.
Like saplings swaying in a tornado, Lie’s legs stretch and struggle to push his weight up again. He leans against the tree, just for a second, before breaking into an unbalanced trot. It does not take long to find Nerine, the border reeking of brine and hardy equines. As the trees thin out, the cliff-lined land spreads before him, and he decides to walk along the angry ocean. Once or twice he peers to the frothy and ravenous water below, but the sight combined with his fever makes him dizzy, and he does not want the thought of the swim through frigid waters to turn him way.
Finally, the dangerous path to the beach below is in sight. The lion-man slows to walk and picks his way carefully (as carefully as a plague-ridden man can) to the shore. Here, he stops and studies the water through hazy eyes. To him, it is furious but not unwelcoming, for the water has been his friend since his family died by fire. With a deep breathe and a casting away of his engulfing thoughts, Lie steps foot into the depths.
One after the other, delicate and tired step after step - the water is cold but that is nothing to him (his body had gone numb from fever long ago). The sandy bottom gives way to absolutely nothing. Litotes continues to pump his legs, closing his eyes and focusing on levelling his already weak breathing. Here and there, the water splashes over his head and he thinks he may drown, but always he finds a reserve to surface - whether it be his mother’s slowly fading cries or the idea of Kensa weakened by the plague.
An end is in sight: the shifter’s hooves begin to scrape away at the moldable floor. The ground becomes reliable beneath him - here he must stop and breathe, water-induced coughs turning into plague-induced coughs that leave him heaving. Finally, finally, he drags his body through the shallows, barely able to hold his head up. Lie stands in the sand, mane and tail heavy with water. The callous wind of the Isle shakes his whole frame, and a faint cough rings from his lips.
guess i'm a coward, i just want to feel all right
