"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 sun hangs high in the sky as the hour of mid-day arrives. She can feel the scorching heat her skin as she pushes away from the shadows of the kingdom’s border. Her hooves sink into the golden sand as soon as she steps onto it. A sense of comfort and relief exhale through her lips as she sighs deeply. Her eyes casually cross over the land, a grin spreading wide from ear to ear as if this was the very first time she was seeing the sandy kingdom. It wasn’t though. This was her home – a home she had left.
Lucrezia regrets ever making that decision, but given time and events of her life she needed to more than ever. While she should’ve stayed around those she knew that could have helped her through grief, she could not. She had to find her own inner peace and accept what had become of her life. There had to be a way to forgive her family regardless of their broken promises and corrupted hunger for personal gain. Lucrezia had once convinced herself that she must forgive them but in her heart, and now her mind, she does not feel that way. She feels a burning hatred towards her sister and father for their false hope that they have given her all her life.
The thought of them now does not matter, she has found her way back home. A home that did not send her away but always welcomed her again and again. This was the difference between the Chamber and the Deserts.
Lucrezia has now made her way across the kingdom, passing over several dunes. She is close to reaching the familiar oasis that lies within the center of the kingdom – a place she is sure to find someone. However, she stops atop of the dune before it curves down into the heart of the deserts. Lucrezia lets her eyes take in the picture and another smile spread across her lips once more. Why did I ever leave here? She thinks, but is only glad to be back now.
01-26-2016, 02:09 AM (This post was last modified: 01-26-2016, 08:45 PM by Tarnished.)
("You should visit us more often.")
He agreed.
There is more history here than he can wrap his head around, his mother's voice comes hissing from every corner—shadows of massive clouds passing over the dunes even remind him of the old Dragon Queen and he scoffs.
Dragon Queen, General, and she offs herself for no good reason.
("Vanquish would especially like it.")
He hasn't visited his father yet—he doesn't know what to say to him, doesn't want to admit that he has failed the old man time and time again. But he has to, sooner or later; someone has to tell him his little deal with Nocturnal fell through and that his son wasn't all that she promised. Grinning, the shapeshifter steps over the border nonchalantly and a ripple of magic spreads from his hoof; The Deserts, possibly startled by his immunity, reverberates its findings back to the rulers so they can come investigate the cause of such a disturbance. Tarnished has no idea that this is happening, of course; he is much too busy enjoying the distant smell of the sea and getting used to the sand beneath his hooves again to worry about that. He might not always enjoy being here, but home is home—no matter who you are.
As he is slinking along, it's by chance he catches sight of a familiar peafowl-marked figure; she seems to be enjoying the view herself and while it be far from him to disturb her, he cannot help laughing at his own luck. "Fancy seeing you here, Lu," his grin never leaves and his eyes, sharp as ever, scan over her body carefully. There's no signs of… anything, yet, and he shrugs it off. Maybe there isn't anything to worry about. Dark nights didn't always lead to the pitter-patter of little terrors. He'd have a massive horde of children by now if such were the case. Especially from his days in the cult.
(I wrote this on my phone. #yolo)
Vanquish x Nocturnal equus mutatio, immortality, disease manipulation, trait immunity
Her thoughts begin to drift in all directions as she stares off into the open wide land that holds the kingdom’s oasis. However, it particularly moves in the directions of when she first arrived here. She had come reluctantly to this kingdom, leaving behind everything she knew. Then again, Lucrezia had been just a foal – naïve and childish. And now she was completely the opposite of that. She understood more than her father probably anticipated (maybe if didn’t hate her sister so much for breaking her promise then she would have figured out how controlling their father was, but she feels too betrayed to even think of that now).
Lucrezia hears the familiar sound of hooves on the sand coming in her direction. She knows that the sand may be soft but it is not a way to come silent into the night. Her eyes find the familiar silver black roan stallion. A boy from her youth she spent a good time with (and many others as well). He is not a boy anymore, but older just as she is too. Lucrezia watches him carefully, not that she doesn’t trust him, but she notices the way he looks at her. Tarnished doesn’t even need to mention it, she already knows what he is looking for – signs of her being pregnant.
It didn’t happen the way she excepted it to, honestly. Lucrezia had always fantasized herself with her lover. She supposes that is a flaw when you are too romantic and caught up in fairytales. It doesn’t actually happen that way, she reminds herself again. However, that night with Tarnished had been an emotional one. She hasn’t seen Kreios since she was dismissed from the quest and she worries about him quite a lot – hoping he isn’t dead. And maybe that is why she found herself tangled up with him in the dark night (seeking comfort and touch of someone, anyone). She huffs at herself silently, dismissing the memories of it.
But she knows she has a little one growing in her even if she isn’t showing.
“Yes, fancy seeing you here.” She says with slight curve of her lips. “Are you stalking me, Nish?” Her curve shapes into a witty grin as her eyes brighten up with a little mischief. Lucrezia has not forgotten her charming personality and wit despite her highly emotional feelings lately of being betrayed by family and worrying about the whereabouts of Kreios. She mustn’t let such circumstances show her weaknesses right now.
The great draft was lying on his wide black belly in the moist coolness of palm sand, heavy face grating against the ribbed bark of the nearby palm tree. Great wings outstretching like membranous, skeletal fronds caught in a sweet breeze – ah, the simple pleasure of a scratch. So simple a pleasure. One, like many, he had been denied for so many years while his bones bleached white and he was counted as one of the dead and forever gone.
There were no gilded gates for him in death, no silvered paths lined with long-ago loved faces to welcome him into the Afterlife so many had spoken of, some with doubt and some with faith. But in the same, there were no fires to scorch his soul forevermore or lakes of horses half-fleshed and devil-touched. There was just the nothingness of reflecting on ruined promises and dying hopes and it was all just…numb. All numbness.
So his grin grows extra wide as the Chamber princess’ scent filters through the spicy, dry scents of his magic sands. It had been a great while since the champagne girl had slipped through the Deserts, he had even heard she had participated in the gods’ throne competition – perhaps she would have been the better choice after all. But those are choices too-long ago chosen to mull over today when her corporeal soul has come home.
The Percheron is rising on feathered feet, shaking loose the dampened sand with a dragon’s snort. “Fancy seeing you here Lu,” he the voice comes and the king furls his wings carefully and quietly at his sides. And even although he does not smell his son, he ears flick forward at the sound and he knows his silvered boy’s voice.
When the gods had seen fit to allow his golden queen to bring him home he had been eager, ravenously so even to see his children – to mend back whatever frays he could. At his bequeath, the magician queen had sent out a message to all of his bloodline. Vanquish knew his dragon-borne son had heard his call - but had just chosen never to come. The king had done his best to hide the thick heaviness of disappointment that hung about his lofty shoulders, but sometimes the great titan struggled with its weight. Tarnished, Kratos, Caius – they had all been absent of his side when he came calling and it both wounded and riled his heart.
Vanquish shoulders his way past a few fronds to the edge of the oasis where the two stood, head high and eyes smiling at the girl, now quite obviously a woman, “Lucrezia, it is good to see you back,” he says, black nose extending in his customary way, “will you be staying?” The king does not mean to pry; he merely extends the question as a courtesy – it would be good to see her within their ranks once again.
He lets his gaze linger on the pea-fowl marked mare before dragging heavily over to his sons, one ear flicked back and the other tilted in his direction, “just passing through, I presume?” He asks his son, voice taunt and gaze hard with a stoic melancholy.
