"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
When the remaining competitors return to the late king’s tree (perhaps to rest a moment beneath it’s hearty boughs, relaxing in the respite from an experience that was so real and yet surreal), there is yet another god-like figure sitting beneath it. Surprise, surprise. This one, however, is different from its predecessors; it does not try to impress or appear assuming. Distinctly male, he sits cross legged in front of a low desk, stylus in hand, and papyrus scroll unfurled before him. He places a few finishing touches on whatever he is writing and turns his head towards them. It must be an odd sight - earnest, but curious eyes blink in a bird-like manner, while his hands move with the steady, swift grace of a professional scribe. His beak is long and thin, giving him a scholarly look. He is Thoth. A god with the head of an ibis, and the body of a man.
Dressed in the same style as Isis and Osiris, he is slightly less formal, wearing only a light, pleated linen kilt that is tied at the waist and secured around a single shoulder, with a colorful necklace of gold and turquoise about his neck. Don’t think too hard about it, it’ll only make your head ache.
He lays down his tools and lays his palms upon each knee, appearing rather serene and comfortable; he should, for he is adept at many skills, and speaks the will of Ra. He is the wisest of all the Gods. Today, however, he is doing his brother and sister yet another favor, once again presiding over affairs with all his infinite wisdom. There is a long silence, wherein he looks at the three assembled and contemplates exactly which questions to ask them. Finally, he appears to decide, and with a wave of his ink-stained fingers, three boxes appear before him, in the empty space between the god and the mortals.
The boxes all look the same: made of a light wood, with a small golden lock keeping the top in place. Whatever is inside them is blocked from view, be it normal or magical. Each, however, bears a different inscription.
The first reads: Choose me and obtain what many desire.
The second reads: Choose me risk all you have.
The third reads: Choose me and get what you deserve.
Thoth says simply, “Two of these boxes will kill you. The third will potentially crown you… If and only if you can answer the following question. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” He tilts his head a little and says no more, content to wait for their reasoning. A light breeze blows. He has all the time in the world.
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Have your character take the threat of death seriously. Obviously they won’t die… but who knows where the other contestants have gone? Also, please do not try to look up the answer to the riddle.
She listens to Osiris with mute attention, knowing that she isn't meant to answer – she would not dare step out of line, not here, not in front of a god. She knows he could peer into her mind if he wanted to. He could see that she wanted this for the Deserts, and for herself – she sought the crown because, above all, she is curious to know whether she could, in fact, help bring the kingdom back to strength. She suspects it, she feels it in her bones, that on her shoulders and the shoulders of the other horses in the Desert, the kingdom could rise again like a phoenix. But she does not know – and she needs to find out.
Her eyes are serious when he warns her not to make a fool of him. She would never, could never – mortals are one thing, gods are something entirely different.
And then she is back, by the oasis, alone. She feels the crook and flail etch themselves into her chest, pulling the meaning of them from some deep-buried memory of one of those who worshipped these gods long ago. The crook and flail together are the trappings of kings. It can't be a bad omen, she hopes.
Back in the world of the living, her magic returns to her in full force, and she appears now as the same black filly she was when she first met Isis. She is slightly older now, slightly taller, a yearling rather than a foal. There is slightly more grey to her coat, a hint that she will soon become white. And across her chest, blazoned proud in gold, the crook and flail stand out like sunshine.
It is then that she notices the god beneath the tree, and she recognizes him immediately. Thoth, the god of wisdom – wisest of all gods. Oh how she longs to go to him, to throw herself by his feet, to ask him everything he knows. Surely he knows the answer to so many questions – but she does not rush to him. She knows that it is not her place, that it would ruin everything.
And so, she waits.
When Pevensie and Lucrezia join her, she is not surprised. She gives Pevensie a small smile and a gentle bump with her nose, hoping that her adopted mother will recognize her despite the changes. She gives Lucrezia a smile as well – she has no way of knowing what they have been through, but she can only assume that if they are here, then they've gone through at least as much as she. To comfort, to reassure, is all she can do for them now.
He speaks, and she listens with complete attention. It is a fitting third test for them – a riddle, or really, two riddles. She believes him completely when he speaks of death; what is it to a god, to kill a mortal? It is nothing. And she believes that it applies to her; her magic is nothing in the face of what the gods bring to bear. She does not attempt to probe the boxes, does not attempt to use her magic to aid her. She understands that this task, like all the others, is something that her magic could not help her with, and it would be an insult to the rules of the game if she were to even try.
She takes a half step forward, ready to be the first to answer. "The egg came first." she answers with quiet confidence, her voice light and yet unwavering. Her eyes are fixed on the god. "A chicken is an animal that has feathers, a beak, wings, and lays eggs." she says, wondering if the other two would even know what the animal was. "In order to define the chicken as we know it, we must first know the egg." She inhales for a moment, not nervous, but determined and deliberate in her speech. "Without laying eggs, a chicken is not a chicken."She pauses for just a moment. "But the reverse is not true for the egg. It is not a defining characteristic of an egg that it is laid by a chicken. There are many other animals that lay eggs as well - the snakes of the Deserts, the ducks and other birds all around the Meadow, and no doubt many more beyond the borders of Beqanna. Eggs are not found only with chickens." she pauses again. "Without an egg, there is no chicken, but without a chicken, there would still be eggs." she takes a breath, her eyes still fixed on the god. "Therefore, the egg came first. In order to have a chicken, we must have an egg."
And now it is time for the second task. She inhales slowly, aware of the risk of death. But it does not frighten her; she is resigned to it, has accepted it as a possible outcome. She would not wish for it, but to die at the hands of a god, participating in something like this, after all of the experiences she has had since she first sipped the purple liquid offered by Isis? It is a death she could accept.
No, she is not driven by fear as she considers the god's riddle. Instead, she is driven by desire. She must know if she can make the vision she has for the Deserts – the vision of strength, of greatness – come true.
"Choose me and obtain what many desire." she decides to consider them each in turn. She approaches the box, coming a bit closer to it as she thinks aloud. "Many desire many things. Some no doubt desire a crown, but I'd bet equally many desire death." she thinks of those who have been tortured, those who hate their lives – they desire nothing more than death. She rules out that box.
"Choose me and risk all you have." She considers the second box in turn for a moment. "Risking all that you have could lead to death." she pauses. "But it is a risk, not a guarantee." In her heart, she feels that this is the right box – that a ruler must risk all that they have, put everything on the line in order to serve their people. For all that she may have been a wanderer, may not have pledged her loyalty, she's an astute student. She's traveled the world, and she's learned what makes leaders great. And the one characteristic, the one trait that always pulls through, is that they lead with everything they have.
But she is not so hasty as to rule out the last box. She turns to it now. "Choose me and get what you deserve." She pauses again, her tail floating gently in the breeze. "No one can deserve a crown before they hold it." She speaks with confidence. "A crown is something to be earned, something that you can deserve only through your actions and through your service."
She looks away from the boxes, up toward the god at his desk. Purposefully, decided, she moves toward the second box, the one that reads "Choose me and risk all you have." She looks him in the eye, standing above the box.
"A good king or queen is willing to risk all that they have for the good of their people. Even if they never need to, they are willing." She speaks, and her voice is laced with gentle determination. "I choose this box. And I choose to risk all that I have."
She touches the box gently with her soft muzzle, and then returns her gaze to the god. If he looks into her mind, he will see she means it – she does not mean merely that she risks her life, but that she risks her magic, her essence, the very core of her being. She has decided her course, decided that she will pledge herself to the Deserts in body, mind, and spirit. When she entered this contest, she may have done so because she didn't feel like refusing Scorch. But as soon as she found herself answering to Isis, she had begun to consider what might happen if she had actually won. What could a kingdom become? What heights could be reached with her at the helm? This is her curiosity, her insatiable search for knowledge, and it leads her to the absolute certainty, to the ultimate commitment.
She whispers, just low enough for the god to hear. "If I fail in my commitment, in my duty," her voice is almost lost to the wind, "May you gods take my magic as my punishment." And she has done it. She has chosen to risk all that she has – because for her, magic is all that she has, all that she's ever wanted, her entire self. Not her life, her magic.
Pevensie returns. She is no longer a woman, but a mare once more. In the same breath the makes the transformation, but feels nothing, acknowledges nothing. It all seems just as it should do, the magic of the gods perhaps? Well, her lungs feel longer, but apart from that...
Once again she is in the throne-room of the green-god. This jade fingers twist within their grasp and ostrich feather. A symbol, often chosen to represent the goddess Ma'at, signifying truth and order. It was also a representation of the hall in which she stood, where the dead had their souls weighed out and judged. It made her think, that last part in particular. For the first time, she really let the settings about her sink in, let her gaze wander from the god before her eyes. It was certainly the first time she had entered this room, yet she could not say it would be her last. With an immortal soul, would she ever die? Could one cheat death forever?
Orsis offers her advice, chastises her kindness. That makes her smile. Without kindness, what would separate them from the Valley? There is a reason that despite her discomfort in heat and loathing of sand, she had chosen to endure this life in the Deserts' rather than abandon it and move to a more suitable environment. When he offers her the feather, it lifts her heart, confirms her beliefs. She has lead a good life thus far- her heart is lighter than the feather.
Then, she is gone. The throne-room has disappeared, along with the jade-god. No longer is she surrounded by darkness. She blinks thrice, disorientated by the sudden contrast.
When her bearings return about her, she realises she is in a familiar place. She is in the garden from where the quest began. Glancing about her, she can only see three other figures. She waits, but the god before her speaks first. Degradation must not be coming. She is crestfallen, her lower lip trembles. Part of her knew, from the start, she had forced him into this. He wanted no part of it, doubtlessly he did not share her desire for eternal life. It was her who wanted it all, not him. Her own selfishness that fed this hurt, this stabbing in her heart. She fears her knees will buckle, the fist around her lungs will squeeze tighter until she has no air left. Everything is pain.
In fact, she scarcely notices when Cammie nudges her. She blinks, not recognising the grey foal she first adopted. Who is this mare nudging her? Frankly, can she bring herself to care?
The buckskin allows her lip to tremble, but that is all. She steels herself. She is ice. She is stone. She is rock. Pevensie knows she must be strong now, that she has endured greater hurts before. The little pony-mare did not enter this all for her father, she owes it to her adopted home to finish what she started. A deep breath later and she has straightened up, begins to pay full attention to the man in front of her. He looks scholarly, certainly he is less ornate than the other two before him. However, that makes him no less important, no less powerful. It is a fool who casts judgement without knowing, and an idiot who would underestimate a god.
He shows them the three boxes. She already knows which she would pick, for it is all she has ever asked of life, but first he would have them unpick a riddle. She flicks her ears back and forth, disgruntled by the riddle. What is the meaning of it? What does he want from it? The meaning of life, the universe and everything? Forty-two? Or would he rather have the scientific answer? She sighs, lost and trying to push away the throbbing pain from the forefront of her mind to concentrate.
The mare that nudged her goes first. Pevensie watches her without question, listens quietly. She then glances round to the third mare, who thus-far is unmoved, and volunteers herself next.
“The question of the chicken and the egg... I don't know what you want from me, so I will give you two answers. The first answers the question most directly: in terms of evolution, the egg came first. There were animals laying eggs far before birds. Simply find a lizards nest amongst the Desert sands, or a snake for example. I suppose these animals, in some grand way I have no possible scheme for understanding, could have altered an egg to birth the chicken. Thus, life expanded and developed right?”
She pauses for a moment, a soft frown furrowing her gentle features. That is the logical answer, but perhaps he would rather see into her soul.
“If we expand the question to it's theoretical meaning, I'm sorry but I must disappoint you. I know not if the gods created the universe. If they did, was it an accident? Was it planned? You will know better than I... clearly there are gods, so I cannot doubt your existence, but I must then ask... why do you allow suffering of the innocent? Why do some who have done bad deeds and enjoyed them get away without punishment? I cannot fathom it all. My wish is that we live in a fairer world, where those who work hard and do no wrong are rewarded and those who break the rules are punished according to their crime.”
“I am only a simple mare. However, if I were made ruler, that is all I would do. I'm sure you already know which box I will choose,” she says with a subtle grin. She fears death, yes, but her heart is numbed by the loss of her father from the quest. It is comforted by the thought of one last visit to the jaded-god in his throne room, by the feather in her hair against which her soul might be weighed. Mostly though, it is comforted by the thought of all the familiar faces waiting for her on arrival. As she walks to the box, she even manages a care-free smile. If it is her time to go, then let it be.
As her muzzle bumps the box 'choose me and get what you deserve', she closes her eyes and awaits her fate. Will it be painful?
When Lucrezia opens her eyes, she finds the god-king wearing a smile on his lips. She does not know truly why he smiles at her this very moment. Lucrezia cannot see the things that Osiris sees, but she can only assume he sees everything that she is. There is nothing to hide from him or his wife from before. She is open like a book from him, letting the rising sun, even Ra himself, to look upon her and see every strength, weakness, fear, and courageous experience she has ever had.
Suddenly, the god-king stands and makes his way to her side. Lucrezia continues to hold his gaze, never letting her determined eyes falter away from his own. She is not scared of him, but instead she finds a deep respect for him as she should respect even death itself knowing someday she will be dead as well. Her life is on a time limit, but she is still young and understands there is much ahead of her and to experience. Osiris runs his fingers over her hip and speaks. Her ears flicker towards him, catching every syllabus that falls from his lips. ”You understand, don't you?” He says but she wonders if she truly understands. She must if he says such things to her. And then he is gone from her side and once again sitting on his throne, twirling the crook in his hand. She smiles at the god-king, and nods her head.
She then returns to the Desert in a blink of an eye.
At first she has no idea where she is at, but she can feel the familiar soft golden grains beneath her hooves. The warmth of the air then brings the memories of the sun to her mind, but she can feel the cooling from the shade. Her eyes turn towards the oak tree and she smiles to see it once more. However, Lucrezia’s eyes catch ahold of the golden sphinx upon her hip. It was the same place that the god-king touched her only minutes ago.
I could be a queen, she smiles at the thought. But I must try harder.
Lucrezia turns to see that there are two others at her side. She remembers seeing them before, but truly the winged mare has never spoken to them. Of course, she is not without manners and gives them both a friendly smile. She cannot also help wonder what each of them has experience. Did you see what I saw? Lucrezia may never know, however, one day they may all speak about it. It was indeed an experience no one else would have.
Her eyes then turn quickly to find that they are all in the company of yet another god. She opens her mouth in awe as she takes in his form. It is the face of the god that she admires most. Lucrezia has always found something beautiful in birds. There was something extraordinary about the creatures. Maybe it was the way that they could simply go where they pleased with a pair of wings. Since she was a child she had always wanted to be like the birds – to fly around the world and see the million of places – and when she came to the Deserts, it became possible.
She watches him curiously, never letting a word slip from her mouth. The mare wonders exactly what this one knows as she assumes he is skilled in many things. He dresses in modest clothing and sits comfortably as without a worry in the world – perhaps maybe it is the wisdom of the world that he appears this way. Lucrezia watches as he sets his tools down, admiring them for a moment, but returns to await his words. Eventually, he waves his black fingers and three boxes appear before him.
The boxes appear simple even with the small golden lock. However, she notices the written words on the boxes. Lucrezia reads each one carefully, trying to understand what is to happen next. Her eyes move to Thoth. The bird-god speaks straight to the point but in simple words as if what he truly says is nothing really. To Lucrezia though, it means everything to her. This was not a simple threat and she does not take it lightly. It makes her heart pound hard and her mind race.
I’m brave. She tells herself over and over again.
Eventually, it is her turn to speak. She had listened carefully to each of the other horses choose the box and answer the riddle of the bird-god, but she herself had considered which one she would choose. This was the choice of life or death. Could she even handle herself to go forward? Maybe she should turn around and return to the Chamber. Her father and sister would gladly take her back. Yet, what would become of her? She tosses her head and pushes those thoughts away. Lucrezia knows exactly what would happen. Her life would only continue to be the same – a simple pawn in the game of crowns.
Lucrezia stares at each of the boxes one more time before turning her eyes onto Thoth’s. She considers the riddle for a moment. ”A tricky riddle,” she says finding her words carefully if they were to be her last ones. “I think that the answer is that a circle has no beginning. The egg must come from the chicken, but the chicken must’ve come from an egg as well. Therefore, it is an endless cycle. And I think this theory can be said about many other animals as well. We all come from someone and somewhere. Each of us is a different egg though and sometimes some of us can be quite the rotten egg.” She smiles simply, satisfied with her answer.
She then pauses, turning her eyes to the boxes. This was the last part that was asked of her. Each of the boxes holds something in them. Lucrezia does not have any idea of what is in each box, but she knows where it can be found. It’s quite simply really because it’s always been wither her since she was born – her heart. However, she turns her gaze to Thoth, to the sands, to the other mares at her side, and then to the boxes again.
“I choose the second box,” she says with a nod of her head. It was the box she found fitting for her. Lucrezia has always risked everything she has since she was a little filly. She risked giving up the only home she knew as a child. Hypothetically, she could’ve lived a comfortable life as a princess in the Chamber and happy with her family at her side constantly. But she didn’t. Lucrezia gave up that kind of lifestyle for the sake of her home and a family. It was with loyalty that drove her here, and it is now that loyalty to the Deserts she chooses it all over again. “I’ve risked everything my entire life. I am sure you can see that, dear friend. I would gladly do it again for the Deserts. The sands gave me hope when I needed it and a home to come back to when I felt abandon. I owe everything to this place.”
I am brave.
Lucrezia is not afraid die now. It is worth it all to die this way, she decides.
While Yael slept, the Gods worked. For once, the mortal had the easy task, though it was a small reward for all she has given in their service.
She does not dream of what they go through; she does not feel their fear or their bravery, their doubts or their pride. She only knows that when she wakes up, their voices give her names. She smiles. Her shoulders have already begun to feel lighter.
After the three remaining contestants pick their boxes, Thoth nods a three times and then writes a couple of things on the papyrus before him. Once the bird-god looks up, both he and the boxes dissolve into nothingness, revealing a smiling Yael before them.
This one, they said, and that one. As for the third, Yael knew exactly what she wanted for her. What she and Van would have wanted.
“Camrynn, Pevensie, Lucrezia… vell done. Very vell done! Ze Gods xaf told me vat zey t’ink and I concur.” She pauses briefly, looking each of them in the eye. The moment has come, and by Adonai, she hopes they have chosen well. “Lucrezia, my dear, eef eet ees your desire, you vill take my place as Ambassador after a brief learning period. You ahr a fantasteec face for ze Desert.” It may not be what the girl had hoped for, but something tells Yael that she would do well in the position. besides, with it came gifts, and a seat at the Keens’ right hands, if they should so wish it. “Camrynn and Pevensie, eef eet ees vhat you desire, you shall share the Crown. Eet ees heavy, and een t’is day and age, useful to have two heads razer t’an vone. Ze Gods believe you vill balance each ozer out very vell. On one condeetion, zough. Camrynn, you vill remain in your true form. Yes?”
Another brief pause, for anything concerning herself at this point was secondary. “I shall remain as Guardian. Xere for advice or xelp or vhatever should you need eet… but I vill not eenterfere een your reign. I protect zis land ahnd eets eenhabitants. Nozing more unless you should veesh eet.”
Yael breathes deeply, waiting for their answers. It would be hard to take a step back and become an observer again. It would be hard to hold her tongue sometimes, and it it might be even harder to turn away. However, with Vanquish dead and the Desert in good hands, Yael is almost eager to see the world anew. She has been tethered here (do not get me wrong, she has loved every minute of it), and has only begun to understand the depths of her powers. She has only begun to live; there is an eternity before her.
04-10-2015, 04:00 PM (This post was last modified: 04-10-2015, 07:25 PM by Camrynn.)
We do what we must,
Because we can.
"I accept your terms." She speaks the words, and she lets the magic flow from her body, her natural form returning, black overtaking white, prime age overtaking tender youth. She will follow the rule and the spirit of the law.
"Thank you for your service." And her tones are serious, she means it. She can see in her mind's eye everything that the golden woman has done for the kingdom. She looks around at the other two assembled. "We will make you proud." she speaks not just for herself, not even just for the three who are assembled here, but for the whole of the Deserts. She is invested fully in their well being, invested fully in the idea of doing everything she can to make their kingdom as strong as she can.
The pressure against her muscle vanished as the box disappears from sight. Pevensie steps back, startled. She glances around - instead of the bird-man before them, Yael is back. Relief washes over her, for the golden queen is far less threatening and bizarre than any of the gods they'd been faced with before her. She assumes, at this stage, that their quest is over. She steps back again, to fall in line with the other two mares to either side. Looking at them now, she notices strange markings on each. Camrynn (Pevensie simply knows it's her daughter again, how and why she does not know), with her rather regal gold one and Lucrezia with a sphinx at her hip. Maybe the gods had thought Pevensie too scarred to spare a piece of skin, that's why the opted for the feather instead.
Yael locks eyes with each of them in turn, ready to make her proclamation. In truth, Pevensie doubted it would be herself, doubted she was worthy of a throne in this Desert kingdom. By her eyes anyway, Lucrezia seemed the worthy candidate, if not a little young. Camrynn too seemed young, but for a mare who had always valued knowledge and experience, a ruler so young always concerned Pev.
Respectfully, the little buckskin mare dips her head to acknowledge the golden-queen when her name is called. She is shocked when the answer comes, that she should be Queen. It had never been her intention to rule, let alone rule the Deserts. She is taken aback, left speechless. A gap which Camrynn soon plugs. For now, her father is forgotten in this new revelation. She simply doesn't know what to do with herself, how to respond, except that she quite literally lights up and begins to glow. From fear or elation, she isn't quite sure.
"Yael, I wouldn't say we are friends, but we have known each other for a long time. I hope that I can help the Deserts' to thrive, with Camrynn by my side. However, the kingdom still loves you. We all have your respect. I welcome you to help guide us as you please," she smiled, her voice calm and level. Or at least she hoped it was.
