"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
Sometimes, she wishes she had made him a little bit less…well, a little bit less canine.
Gumby is dancing around her as though she's got a treat and is keeping it from him. She really isn't – she has nothing to give him, nothing for him, no stick, no treat, nothing. She's not even sure what he would consider a treat – she really doesn't remember specifying what he eats – but she's quite sure she doesn't have it. Which leaves her to wonder why he's so intent.
She stands in the Desert, near enough to the oasis that she's got grass under her feet. She doesn't mind the sand, she's come to quite enjoy the radiant heat that comes from it, but sometimes she enjoys the cool of the oasis. There is something to be said for grass, even the small patches of it that they have here.
Gumby finally loses interest in her, but instead decides to begin racing back and forth between her and the water and barking his head off. If she weren't confident in her magic, she'd doubt that she had in fact created a guardian. God knows, to look at the way this thing behaves you wouldn't think it could possibly do any kind of damage. You'd expect Gumby to bark fiercely at invaders, and then be rolling on his back begging them (silently) to pet him within about two seconds flat. He sure looks like one of those dogs who barks fiercely, but in fact loves everyone. Only she knows that that's false – she wove him from scratch, creating the bronze in her mind, giving him life. He is because she made him, and she made him according to her image. If it becomes necessary, he will fight, and she knows how powerful a weapon he will be.
And she knows he will be needed. The future is still unfolding, but she can see it as it shifts, catching glimpses of it from moment to moment. To try to nail it down can be dangerous, she knows this; there are so many factors that the future is like a tangent to the curve, spinning off in different directions as the present changes course. The universe always knows – the line is always calculated – but to try to follow it could bring anyone to madness.
She knows that Beqanna will fall into chaos. It is so close already; the things that are happening in the Tundra at that very moment, the things that the Amazons have attempted, the ways that the Valley is responding, even the way that the Deserts might respond all point to the same inevitable truth. And besides, is that not the nature of things? Is it not only right for Beqanna to bring itself together only to fall apart?
Perhaps they'll be the last bastion of the world, the lonely Deserts, a beacon against the chaos, protected only by a slobbering bronze dog-cat-sphinx.
Speaking of Gumby, he's stopped barking because he's found a stick. The image of his humanoid head holding a stick might be a little strange, but he manages it somehow. Dropping the stick at Camrynn's feet, he lowers onto his front paws, butt in the air, wagging his lion-tail and barking sharply. Clearly, he wants to play fetch.
Without moving, Camrynn telekinetically picks the stick up and flings it far into the distance. Gumby chases after it with tremendous exuberance, and she notes with appreciation that he's every bit as fast as she wanted him to be. Except, of course, that his speed also means he'll be able to retrieve the stick.
And it means that within a matter of moments he comes trotting back into view, stick proudly hanging from his mouth, and deposits it right back at her feet, begging her to throw it again.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery
I followed the scent of Camrynn home after that very fun race, how could I not? She didn't seem to be bothered by George and she knew how to have fun! The magic of the place left a tingly feeling on my skin, the sand warm and squishy beneath my feet. Ohhh I loved it! I bucked a few times, enjoying the squish of the sand as I landed, giggling each time I returned to earth. And of course, my little..problem..decided to interrupt my fun..stupid stick in the mud.
What are you doing? We find a home and you're going to ruin it by acting like a complete imbecile? Stop right this instant! And for heaven's sake get rid of that damn stick! You know it didn't talk to you, that's just your diseased brain making things up!
I shake my head to clear her out of it, and I go back to bucking in a circle for a few seconds just to annoy her. Perhaps it was a kind of twisted sibling rivalry? A faint breeze stirred the air and brought me Cam's scent and a really really strange one. It wasn't another horse, but I wasn't sure quite what it was. Gathering my legs under me I launched myself in the direction of Cam, a squeal of delight as the sand continued to be squishy while I was running on it escaped my lips, muffled as it was around George. It didn't take me long to find the black mare, and a rather odd looking creature. Drawing up a short distance away, I sprayed sand in a little arc as I slid to a stop. Lowering George to the ground carefully between my forelegs, I looked up at Camrynn with a delighted smile.
Hi! I love this place! The sand is so squishy! But what is that thing?
I tilt my head to the side like a large dog, staring at the thing that brought a stick to Cam. A stick?!?! Nervously I shuffled closer to George, making sure I could defend him from this thing if I needed to. Lowering my head and extending my neck, I snorted at the barking thing, my pale blue eyes trained on it as I continued to try and figure out just what it was..and to make sure it didn't take off with George.
Girr Mare Gypsy Vanner 6 15 hands Maximally expressed Cremello Sabino (ee/aa/CrCr/nZ/SbSb) Invaderless/The Deserts/No copies Sael Voice in her head is in italics
I most certainly did talk! George's small voice is insistent as soon as Girr's inner voice of reason questions him. Camrynn may not be visible to Girr yet, but Girr is in the Deserts and Cam makes it her business to know everything that has to do with the Deserts.
She knew the girl was coming long before she ever arrived, of course. She knew as soon as she'd appeared in the Field that Girr would be drawn to go with her, and she'd been waiting. The girl (and her stick) will fit in well here, here in this place where so few judge and so many forgive.
And she's absolutely sure that the girl will like Gumby.
She smiles gently as Girr slides to a stop next to her. Camrynn's gaze swings over to the woman, regarding her with a chuckle as the sand sprays from beneath her hooves. "Welcome, Girr. I'm glad you like it." she offers genuinely once the girl has stopped talking. "You and George are very welcome here." She pauses before answering the rest of the question, telekinetically maneuvering the stick so that Gumby dances underneath it, jumping for it just like your typical household dog.
"His name is Gumby, and he's our guardian." she says, keeping the stick moving despite appearing not to concentrate on it at all. "Gumby, go say hi." the bronze sphinx construct barks once, before bounding the short distance from Camrynn's hooves to Girr's. Like an incredibly large cat (he's about the size of a small pony) he rubs up against Girr's right foreleg, purring all the while. He pauses when he notices George on the ground.
Taking it as an opportunity to play, he bounces backward, away from Girr, barking all the while. Now George is on the grown between Girr and Gumby, and the latter has his sphinx butt in the air, tongue lolling out as he barks. "I think he likes you." Camrynn observes dryly. "But I'm not entirely sure he understands George."
Gumby hasn’t tried to pick George up just yet, but he clearly hasn't mastered the concept that this particular stick is friend, not toy. "Unless George wouldn't mind a little bit of rough play. Gumby is as gentle as he can be, but those teeth…" It's easy to overlook, considering how cute and cuddly he is, but his teeth are surprisingly wicked looking when you come right down to it. "He does really love his sticks."
She telekinetically grabs the stick she had been playing with earlier (not George) and flings it toward the horizon. Gumby takes off at a dead run, impossibly fast, catches the stick with a flying leap as he crests the next dune, and comes trotting back proudly, stick hanging from his mouth. He drops it in front of both of them, looking terribly proud of himself.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery
Feel 100% free to play Gumby yourself, by the way! He's a big, goofy sphinx who acts like a dog most of the time and also sometimes purrs and acts like a cat.
I smile brightly at Camrynn as she introduces me to the barking thing and it rubs against my leg, leaning my nose down to rub against his head. This might be even more fun than George! I giggle softly, watching him chase the stick Cam flung out across the desert. Yes I would enjoy living her.
I think I will enjoy living here! And surely I can teach him that George is a friend and not a toy! And George can't mind rough play too much, since I shake and bite him all the time myself.
I pick up George and shake him for emphasis, grinning around the stick at Cam and Gumby. Placing George back on the ground I pick up Gumby's stick and rear up, turning my head and slinging it back out as I try to toss the stick for the little guardian. It doesn't go as far as Cam's did but Gumby still races off after it, leaping into the air to catch it as he had done before. I lean down and pick up George, shaking him briskly as Gumby approaches with his own stick. He seems to catch on to the spirit of the game I'm playing and begins to shake his stick around as well. Laughter bubbles up around George as I continue to shake him, eyes on Gumby before I set George back down and speak to Cam.
He's so much fun! Is there anything else he can do? I know you said he's a guardian, what's that mean?
Yes I know I sound like an overgrown three year old, but I had questions that I'd like answered. Curiosity killed the cat they said, well sometimes it almost kills me too.
05-02-2015, 01:17 AM (This post was last modified: 05-02-2015, 01:24 AM by Kingslay.)
KINGSLAY
Fire cleanses.
Fire burns until there is nothing left worth remembering. It burned the hair from his skin, and the skin from his bones. It burned every ounce of humanity left inside the rotting cage of his skeleton, but it did not burn her away. She did not turn to rubble and ash. She did not turn to smoldering kindling. Her memory did not fade. She stands in the flames, un-singed and unscathed; eternal, with her large, dark eyes, that saw him for who he could have been if he wasn’t what he is.
Fire could not cleanse him of her.
Massacre could not, either.
He is lucky that he is made of the fires of hell, or the string of bodies he leaves in his wake might give him away (the smell of death is only smoke and ash this way). He is lucky that fire cleanses, even if it doesn’t work on Etro. Even if the image of her hips fading into a sunset silhouette on a desert horizon is something he cannot kill (the memory is red and hot, like blood, but will not drain). He is lucky to be a god. He is lucky to house a creature in his ribs that is a cacophonous glutton, because it leaves little room for brooding.
All there is room for is the bubbling of blood.
It sounds thick, like tar.
All he has room for is the sounds of splintered bones, and hollowed bellies. He remembers the way that eyes can bulge when the right amount of pressure is applied to the skull, and it makes his lips quiver and curl at their ends. He remembers the light. He remembers it bright in the upper left of their irises, and how it makes the creature in his gut rattle against his ribs to watch that light drain out.
It is here that he finds them. He can taste them on his tongue, and the beast shakes against his xylophone ribs. He thinks about their bones laid bare, about their innards exposed and the yellow of their fat laid out in the sun. He can have them so easily. He can taste their bones between his teeth, suck the flesh clean from them, if he wants.
Who can stop a god? Etro, maybe, but she’s not here anymore.
He says nothing.
He never does.
And so, he made the Gods themselves bend at the knee.
Camrynn can't help but smile as she watches the mare interact with Gumby. This had been part of what she'd intended when she created the construct, making him rise from the sand like a phoenix from the ashes. He'd turned out brilliantly (did her creations ever fail to do so?) but she felt neither surprise nor pride at that fact. It's been more than 50 years since she first gained her magic; she's long since gotten over the testing phase and is well into the "delivering perfectly every time" phase. She simply doesn't make mistakes.
When Girr mentions what else Gumby can do, the queen frowns slightly, flicking her black tail across equally black haunches. Gumby is fairly new, and thankfully thus far he hasn't had to satisfy his primary mission. He is the happy go lucky family dog, but his primary mission is to protect the Deserts, and much like a family dog, he can do incredible things in the name of that protection. His teeth are sharp, his claws are sharp, and he's got the toned predatory body of a lion. He's also got astonishing tactical intelligence, hidden behind his dopey, goofy exterior.
Really, he's a masterwork.
"Gumby is the protector of the Deserts." she explains to Girr as the bronze statue brought to life gallivants merrily around their hooves.
And then, they both sense it – perhaps Gumby senses it through her, perhaps he smells it, perhaps they both do. Looking at the horizon, a small smile quirks at her lips; she feels the newcomer's magic even from here, his magic and his strength.
She had known he would come. She's in the habit of knowing things nowadays, even more than perhaps she has been. She tries to look ahead, to plan for the Deserts, to stay a step ahead of the Amazons and anyone else who would want to hurt them. And so far, it's worked brilliantly. And now the next step falls into place in the form of a burned summer-manipulator, a devil-stallion, fire made flesh.
He is a god, but so too is she – and she has trafficked with gods, ones older than any horse could ever hope to be. She is older than him, too, and the magic she wields is more ancient still. But they are kindred spirits, the scion of burning summer and the black illusionist queen. He might be more prone to mass murder where she's a more subtle form of chaos, but they are two peas in a pod.
Beside her, Gumby is on edge. He is taking his cues from Camrynn and so is not growling, but he is clearly not entirely content with the newcomer. He is quite a threatening creature when he wants to be; the size of a small pony, he is cast entirely out of bronze, a sphinx brought to life, complete with claws and teeth and powerful muscles. He is a threat, perhaps even to this burning summer-stallion.
She plucks his name from his mind, or from legend, or from common knowledge. Fire cleanses many things, but a magician's memory – and a magician's knowledge – is never one of them. Who can stop a god? Why, another god of course.
She turns to him, his silence completely natural to her. She is a great beauty, a contrast to his shocking appearance. She is pure black, save for a gilded crook and flail across her chest, a string of diamonds and gemstones like a necklace across her left cheek, and her remarkable eyes that change color on her whim. That's how she appears on the surface – perfectly normal.
It's underneath that her magic lives. She can be flashy. She can be anything. But she is always magic.
"Welcome to the Deserts." She greets with a wry smile and a touch of amusement in her voice, knowing that this stallion is no more a light than she herself. But what's a little bit of misalignment between friends? He has power, and so long as he refrains from killing Deserts members, he's welcome to stay here. "What brings you to the sands?" she asks, knowing full well what the answer is.
She stands ready to be the buffer to his fire, to protect and shield Girr should she need it. Camrynn is ready to welcome him, ready to use him, ready for anything – but she is not naïve. She knows better than to let murderers have free reign on her subjects. And she knows better than to trust Kingslay, who is more than a murderer.
But you don't have to trust in order to find useful. Beautiful, isn't it?
Camrynn thinks so. What say you, Kingslay?
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery
05-03-2015, 11:37 AM (This post was last modified: 05-03-2015, 11:38 AM by Girr.)
I don't suffer from insanity...
I reach down and nuzzle Gumby's cheek, receiving a sloppy kiss on my nose for my efforts. I giggle softly, my eyes focused on Cam. I was about to speak to her when Gumby darted beneath my feet and picked up a stick, running off with it. I look down and realize he had GEORGE. I squeak and yell out shrilly as I take off after him.
No Gumby! Bad Gumby! That's not a stick that is a friend! Bring George back here!
I didn't notice that on our chase there was a weird pulse of magic in the air, magic and the smell of fire. This puzzled me but I didn't think any more of it as I chased Gumby for possession of George. Realizing that the sphinx had come to a halt and was growling almost inaudibly I look up and put on the brakes so I don't run over Gumby or the fiery horse that stood just a few feet away. I shower the horse and Gumby with sand as I finally manage to stop, reaching my nose down to brush it against the sphinx's back in a reassuring caress. The other in my head starts to chime in about this time and I stare blankly at him as I listen to the voice inside me.
Run you fool! Can't you see that thing is dangerous?!?! I know you can feel the magic rolling off him, can't you feel the malice too? Don't speak to it, don't look it in the eye. Just turn and run, NOW!
Shaking my head to clear it, I look at the fire horse and smile brightly. You never know who can end up being a good friend, or at least a good playmate, no matter how unusual they look! I speak in my cheerful girlish voice, still smiling at him.
Hi! I'm Girr! And this, I indicate the sphinx at my feet by bumping him with my nose, is Gumby. And the stick in his mouth is George. Who are you?
Girr Mare Gypsy Vanner 6 15 hands Maximally expressed Cremello Sabino (ee/aa/CrCr/nZ/SbSb) Invaderless/The Deserts/No Clones Sael Voice in her head is in italics
They can feel him before he ever comes. He is the prickle on the backs of their necks that leaves the hair standing on end. He is the distant snapping of twigs and branches underfoot when there is no one in sight. He leaves raised bumps along their skin, and sends the whites of their eyes rolling in fear. They always know. It is an instinct bred so deeply into them that it winds in helical ways around the strands of their DNA.
They always know.
They always know, but they never listen.
They aren’t listening now. They can’t hear the sounds of his ribs as they rattle, or the gluttonous mewls of the thing that drives him (a thing that wants blood, a thing that can never be satiated). If they heard they would run. If they heard the sounds of salivating jaws, or bones breaking, they would never look back.
Etro heard, once.
Etro looked back, every time except the last one.
‘Welcome to the Deserts,’ the first one says, and he says nothing but remembers the sandstorm in Yael’s eyes and knows that he has never been welcome here. He does not belong anywhere, or to anything. He is a god. He is a king. He is death.
They should run.
They should run because he can taste the blood in their veins. They should run because he wants to smell their flesh as it burns, and add their bones to his pyre. They should run because the flames along the back of him burn white-hot, and they’ll start to find the heat uncomfortable. The temperature will climb slowly for now. He’s only playing, for now. He wants to see the sweat roll down their necks and backs. He wants to see them squirm.
He will not answer why he has come, but the answer will swim in his eyes like the galaxies swam in hers.
He will always come back for Etro.
He took life, but she took him.
“Kingslay,” comes the hiss that parts his lips at last when he is ready.
And so, he made the Gods themselves bend at the knee.
She doesn't belong here any more than he does, and she knows it. It's funny to watch him watch her, not knowing who or what she is, not knowing how much she isn't a light queen. Oh yes, she's very much the queen of the lights, but down deep, own where it matters, she's seen and done things that easily rival the skeletos in Kingslay's closet.
But much as she'd love to chat with him man to woman, she's got Girr to worry about. She understands perfectly well that the girl has the sense of a pea; if she knew anything she'd have stopped long before almost running headlong into their uninvited guest. But Camrynn is not concerned about that. She doesn't doubt her ability to protect Girr, not against this thing, not against anything.
She notices how he avoids answering her second question, and she doesn't care. She hadn't asked it because she wanted his life story. She'd asked it because it's a question you ask when you're the queen and you encounter a newcomer. It's polite, it's conversational, and she doesn't doubt that all of that is something he either fails to understand or willfully ignores. Is there really much of a difference?
He is burning, and she wonders how the heat effects Girr. For herself, she simply adjusts – she looks no different, but she is resistant now, unaffected by the heat the stranger creates. For the time being she is entirely content to let Girr sweat; perhaps it would stop her from getting so close to Kingslay, from risking herself, making it that much easier for Cam to protect her. `
Silence hangs in the air for a moment, a small smile plays on Camrynn's lips.
Deliberately and yet unhurriedly, Camrynn takes a step toward the man of summer, toward the burning god, toward the creature of destruction. She remains as pristine as ever, her hide sleek and black, unspoiled by sweat. Let him burn; she is fire too, she is the ashes and the kindling, the start and the finish, beginnings and endings all rolled into one. He is an ending, but he will never end her. All the fire in the world and he'll only make her a phoenix.
"Make yourself at home, Kingslay." it's almost a challenge, a command, but one couched so thoroughly in seduction and charm that it's almost impossible to tell.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery
A bead of sweat rolls down my neck, and I tilt my head curiously as it drips into the pink sand. This is very, strange. And that's a weird thing for me to say, because I talk to a stick. Nudging Gumby back towards Cam, I begin to slowly retreat backwards toward her. Sometimes the voice in my head was right, as much as I hated to admit it. I didn't turn tail and run however, that would have been a REALLY stupid thing to do. Predators will attack if they think you are prey, and though I'm quite sure Cam and Gumby could protect me from the rather odd stallion I'd rather not chance it.
Tiny pink sand crystals clung to the sweat that dripped from my hide, turning me a rather awesome shade of coral. I knew I wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but I didn't want to perhaps endanger the Deserts with my overt friendliness to the things that go bump in the night. Glancing over my shoulder, I pivoted slightly and stood beside Camrynn. Shaking my mane, I paw at the sand and darken the coral of my legs. Hmmm, I wonder if I rolled in it would it stick to the rest of me?
Moving out a little farther from Cam, I drop to my knees and flop over on my side. Rolling over with all four legs in the air like an overgrown dog I laughed out loud as I coated myself in the squishy pink sand. Gumby runs around me barking, before dropping to his side to join me in my rolling. I giggled merrily as I rose to my feet, my whole body now splotched with pink. Gumby bumped my leg with his nose, dropping George at my feet. Nuzzling him I smiled towards Cam and then and Kingslay.
That was fun. Maybe you should try it Kingslay! It might put out that fire!
Girr Mare Gypsy Vanner 6 15 hands Maximally expressed Cremello Sabino (ee/aa/CrCr/nZ/SbSb) Invaderless/The Deserts/No Clones Sael Voice in her head is in italics
