08-22-2020, 01:20 AM
Reign couldn’t remember what life was like before she walked across galaxies, before she learned to hide behind starlight; it was cold there, empty. The sound of the two great beasts clashing together lost in the vacuum of the void. She should be dead. She never should have witnessed it. He tore her to pieces when he remembered what he was and who he served. Reign could not reach him. Not even her Mother could reach him.
Her Mother didn’t matter to him.
Her Brother didn’t matter to him.
Reign, herself, who had been poised to be his favorite was suddenly nothing in the eyes of Tarnished.
Not once he remembered his Master and their Cause.
And then Caw came.
Caw begged for Reign’s life as Reign lay dying, pleading: “Pretty please don't let her die, don't let anymore of them die—“
Reign supposed someone, or something, was listening. They must've been. She had spent the years since then hiding behind the stars, the sole witness to a war that would never quite end. A war that waged on and on in the heavens, beyond Beqanna, past their moon and stars and understanding. They destroyed other worlds in their wake, oblivious even to the planets they annihilated all in the name of their Gods. Good and Evil. Light and Dark.
'Please let me go home, please...'
Someone, or something, was still listening.
All Reign needed to do to was ask.
—
The sky was cloudless and then it was not. Black, monstrous thunderheads swirled—roaring, crackling, until they cast a single lightning bolt and then they were gone. No harm, no foul.
Only Reign in her little, roan child’s body, regarding the world around her with a bizarre mixture of wonder and contempt. She blinked her yellow eyes as if to test them, her black, forked tongue sneaking out of her mouth to taste the air. There were no Titans here struggling to destroy one another, only water and sandstone and grass and trees.
She was almost afraid to move, half-considering the fact that she had gone mad and this was all some grand hallucination. Still, the urge to do so won out and she began inching forwards—slowly, steadily. Her legs didn’t feel like they belonged to her. Her wings were mere wisps at her side, hardly noticeable unless someone bothered to look close. She followed the river, figuring that it must support some kind of life, and didn’t stop until two figures stood in the distance.
Reign lifted her head higher, her tongue, again, slipping out between her teeth to taste the air. She didn’t quite know what to make of them, whether to approach and ask for directions or to skirt around them and find her way out of this place on her own. Regardless, she would still be doing quite a bit of traveling—she wanted her Mother, if Mother would still have her—and nothing was going to get in her way.
Snorting, the filly opted to try and go around them—hoping to give them a wide enough berth that they might not notice her. She chose to stick close to the canyon wall, only bothering to side-eye them if they moved.
Her Mother didn’t matter to him.
Her Brother didn’t matter to him.
Reign, herself, who had been poised to be his favorite was suddenly nothing in the eyes of Tarnished.
Not once he remembered his Master and their Cause.
And then Caw came.
Caw begged for Reign’s life as Reign lay dying, pleading: “Pretty please don't let her die, don't let anymore of them die—“
Reign supposed someone, or something, was listening. They must've been. She had spent the years since then hiding behind the stars, the sole witness to a war that would never quite end. A war that waged on and on in the heavens, beyond Beqanna, past their moon and stars and understanding. They destroyed other worlds in their wake, oblivious even to the planets they annihilated all in the name of their Gods. Good and Evil. Light and Dark.
'Please let me go home, please...'
Someone, or something, was still listening.
All Reign needed to do to was ask.
—
The sky was cloudless and then it was not. Black, monstrous thunderheads swirled—roaring, crackling, until they cast a single lightning bolt and then they were gone. No harm, no foul.
Only Reign in her little, roan child’s body, regarding the world around her with a bizarre mixture of wonder and contempt. She blinked her yellow eyes as if to test them, her black, forked tongue sneaking out of her mouth to taste the air. There were no Titans here struggling to destroy one another, only water and sandstone and grass and trees.
She was almost afraid to move, half-considering the fact that she had gone mad and this was all some grand hallucination. Still, the urge to do so won out and she began inching forwards—slowly, steadily. Her legs didn’t feel like they belonged to her. Her wings were mere wisps at her side, hardly noticeable unless someone bothered to look close. She followed the river, figuring that it must support some kind of life, and didn’t stop until two figures stood in the distance.
Reign lifted her head higher, her tongue, again, slipping out between her teeth to taste the air. She didn’t quite know what to make of them, whether to approach and ask for directions or to skirt around them and find her way out of this place on her own. Regardless, she would still be doing quite a bit of traveling—she wanted her Mother, if Mother would still have her—and nothing was going to get in her way.
Snorting, the filly opted to try and go around them—hoping to give them a wide enough berth that they might not notice her. She chose to stick close to the canyon wall, only bothering to side-eye them if they moved.
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