"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
01-02-2019, 10:53 PM (This post was last modified: 01-02-2019, 10:55 PM by Elkhazel.)
She’s not really sure where she is.
It’s hot, and humid, and it smells funny. She already misses the sweet-smelling grasses of home, and she wrinkles her little nose in distaste.
She also doesn’t really know who she’s looking for, either. She woke up here this morning by herself, and she waited to see if mother would come back. This morning, she’d been sure she would. Sure that she had dreamed the bit about a sister, and a new home. But now the sun is high overhead and she’s starting to think maybe it wasn’t a dream.
And she’s hungry.
The filly glances down at the grass and it’s lush here, but it doesn’t look appetizing. She could subsist on it, is starting to think she might have to, but it’s just another reason to miss mother. With a sigh, the girl unfolds her spindly limbs and climbs to her feet, glancing around.
It had been winter everywhere else, but here the air is warm and salty. There’s – a mountain? Mountains don’t smoke, in her experience, but hey, there’s a first time for everything.
Curious now, she sets off across the ground with no real destination in mind, simply following the winding water.
she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees make you thinks she means it this time
Pyxis does not know all of her siblings—how could she? The one thing her parents had proven truly good at, besides finding ways to fall apart and then fall in love together again, is reproducing. She knows of her closest sisters (Malis’ wild smiles and Ilka’ dreamy eyes), but after the trio of them had been born, she had begun to lose track of her growing family. Was she to find out that she had a dozen siblings, her eyes would pop open and, depending on her mood, she would either curse or laugh. Of course she did.
Of course her parents had created such a large, sprawling family.
All of this to say, she has no way of knowing that the spotted, winged filly making her way across the volcanic island is her sister. She just knows that she sees a filly without any sort of adult supervision in sight—a little girl with a determined glint in her eye and in her step as she cuts across the vegetation.
Sighing, regretting the momentary flare of maternal instinct and blaming the twins for it, she picks up her pace, moving gracefully from a walk to a trot and then a leggy lope. When she finally nears the little girl, there is the barest hint of salt on her neck and the irritation flares in her. She does her best to keep it from her elegant face, instead dipping her antlered head down to the child and giving her a small smile.
“Are you having fun exploring Tephra?” She studies the child for a moment, feeling that familiar weight, the need to comfort and protect the little girl—the need to look after her. “My name is Pyxis.”
she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair but I still love her, I don't really care
01-06-2019, 11:54 PM (This post was last modified: 01-06-2019, 11:55 PM by Elkhazel.)
The filly doesn’t realize she’s being pursued for some time, until the mare grows quite close. Then she slows and looks back, coming to a halt and watching the last of the stranger’s approach. She can’t help but notice the similarities between them – the mare’s color is nearly identical to her own, plus the way she is built… - but also the differences. She doesn’t share Elkhazel’s wings, and the filly takes a long moment to openly admire the mare’s magnificent antlers.
”Hi, Pyxis,” she chirps, and answers almost automatically in response: “I’m Elkhazel.” She opens her wings a little to steady herself as she opens her stance; today they are simply black feathers, to match her natural coloring. “Um, yes, I guess,” she offers a hesitant smile in return to the one she’s been given, and glances around. “Why is the mountain smoking?” she blurts out the original question in her mind before she can forget it, but then turns her rapidly spinning head to other questions.
“Your antlers are really cool. Have you always had those?” she admires them again, wonderingly, trying to work up the nerve to ask the questions she really wants an answer to. For a long moment she merely shifts uneasily, eyes turned away, but then she peeks up at the mare from under long dark lashes and lowers her voice. “Um, well, do you think it’s funny that we look a lot alike?”
In the dream -or memory, if that’s what it was – mother had said her sister lived here. Unless they all look like Pyxis and Elkhazel, she can’t imagine they aren’t related.
she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees make you thinks she means it this time
Pyxis is many things, but exceptionally observant has never been one of them.
She is bright-eyed and sharp, but only in the things that immediately pertain to her—specifically, the things that pertain to her own survival, her own safety. And, now, she supposes, the things that pertain to her family’s safety. So her observation of the spotted bay child are distracted and scattered.
That is, until she asks the question that cuts through the noise in her mind.
It clears the fog and brings her eyes refocusing on her, the ice of her eyes suddenly much brighter.
“Oh, uh, it’s a volcano,” she says absent-mindedly, only just realizing the question that she had been asked. To be honest, Pyxis has never really paid much mind to the central piece of Tephra’s landscape. This is just a home for the moment, a place to rest her head, a place to keep her children safe.
She shakes her head, dropping it slightly so that she can get a better look at the filly. Her blue gaze is fierce and unscrupulous, studying her face for a moment before huffing, her nostrils flaring. “That is funny,” she says, although there is not much humor in her voice, just a sharp-edge of recognition.
She is quiet for another moment longer, taking a deep breath, before she finally asks:
“Elkhazel,” it certainly sounds like a name from her family, “who is your mother, exactly?”
She knows the answer already; in her heart, she knows.
But she still needs to hear it directly from the girl’s mouth.
she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair but I still love her, I don't really care
She turns the idea of it over in her head, staring at the smoking mountain for a long moment. The smoking top is faintly menacing, like at any moment it could spew nightmares across the land. Elkhazel doesn’t like the idea of that, so she changes the vision – in her mind, the ash turns into butterflies, who float across the field.
Pyxis agrees that it’s funny, but she doesn’t laugh. Blue eyes meet blue, and Pyxis’ eyes are the same shade as the butterflies from her earlier visualization. For a moment she can almost see those butterflies landing on the other mare’s antlers, wings fluttering gently in the breeze. They gaze at each other in silence. Perhaps another child would break that silence, but Elkhazel certainly is not that.
Mother? She’s mother. The filly frowns, thinking hard about the question Pyxis has asked her. It takes her a moment, and some restless shifting; her wings change, too. Some of mother’s favorites appear, as she thinks hard about ‘who, exactly’ Mother is. Suddenly she smiles, and lifts her wings briefly (copper, and momentarily draconic) in excitement. “Her name is Oksana,” she announces, quite sure this is the correct answer.
Of course, at that point, maybe Pyxis doesn’t need it. Maybe the wings were enough. “I’m sure she’s coming back,” the girl tells the mare with quiet confidence. “But I think she wanted me to find you, for now.”
01-12-2019, 06:13 PM (This post was last modified: 01-12-2019, 06:13 PM by pyxis.)
she'll lie and steal and cheat and beg you from her knees make you thinks she means it this time
It’s been a long time since someone has said her mother’s name aloud.
It causes a nearly visceral reaction, a shudder that races up her spine, that causes her mouth to go slightly dry. She just nods as she studies the wings that transform into something copper and a form that she has seen her mother wear so often—although especially when angry. Her features cloud with a frown, with a recognition that strikes deep into her core. “Oksana,” she repeats the name and thinks of her soft-eyed mother with that wild love of her father, with that all-encompassing need that engulfed them both.
So Pyxis had more siblings now.
“It would seem that you’re my little sister then.”
She closes her icy eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself and gain some level of control over herself. When she finally opens them again, her features are softer, and that wildfire of emotions has been locked away deep in her chest. She will deal with it some other time. Later.
“I’m sure she will be here soon,” she lies, because it has been years since she has seen her mother. She doesn’t begrudge her mother her happiness, but she cannot stop the bitterness she feels to her father. These are not things she shares with the little girl before her now. Instead she just sighs and beckons her forth. “You can live with us for now. I have children. I am sure they would like to have more friends.”
she'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair but I still love her, I don't really care
