"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
She starts her day as she often does, in the shade of the Mother Tree. She leans against the rough bark, watching as the sun slowly grows over the horizon. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately - the new crown is a heavy burden that she has yet to adjust to. She thinks it will eventually, hopes it will, but for now her head is full of worries that she has yet to solve.
First and foremost of which is the activity in the kingdom. The Gates has always been a quiet kingdom, and that has never been more true than now. They are looking at a mere four members, including herself and Mast. A pitiful number for a territory calling itself a kingdom. They need to grow if they are to survive. And they’ve been trying - she’s taken trips to the field, and she knows Jason has as well. But success so far has been limited. It’s hard to attract newcomers when they don’t hand out traits like the mythical kingdoms.
She sighs and pushes herself off the tree. Since she is doing nothing else, she might as well head out towards the field. Perhaps she will have more luck … though she doubts it.
She spent her time meandering through the Gates, inspecting this, having a look at that. There were so many new sights and smells to discover, it kept her more than busy. Being busy however, did not keep one from being lonely. She was often alone, not that most of the Gates herd had shunned her no, they were all pretty nice actually, they were just so few. Her friend Jason was often off trying to recruit more members, as well as her new Queen Fiasko. She couldn't blame them really, she understood the necessity of herd members, or else they were not much of a herd now were they?
The King of the lands, was it Mast? Yes she thought that was the name, she knew it was something to do with water, or boats maybe. She hadn't really spent much time with him though she was sure he was rather busy himself, it would take a lot to run a Kingdom she was sure. Then there was the dark one, the big one. Voudou. Wichita hadn't had any time with that one either, she seemed to be off doing her own thing. The few glimpses the silver black had caught of the Friesian ended quickly, as the minx was adept at fleeing from any social interactions with the smaller doe. She however could not put full blame on the others, she herself hadn't been particularly outgoing. She really didn't want to be a burden on the others, it wasn't their job to entertain her,but still.
She was doing what she did best when she found herself on the path to the Mother Tree, one of the few she knew relatively well. And, what luck! Here she caught the vision of her Queen, how often did she spend beneath its branches she wondered. She appeared to be on the move, heading out towards the borders in the direction of the field. The place Wichita had first met Jason, a fond and happy memory for the little dapple. One of the few, and so she cherished when it found its way into her thoughts. Perhaps her Queen might like some company too, she looked a bit worried as of late. Stress. Wichita decided, with a matter of fact nod of her dial. She whickered happily as she made her way closer, a happy greeting to her painted Queen.
"Good morning my lady", she offers with a bright smile and a dip of her dial.
As she takes a step forward, the familiar heartbeat thuds for a moment at her sides. She wonders, as she always does when this happens, where it comes from. It’s such an odd thing, to a feel a heart beat that isn’t even there. And yet it feels right, somehow. Familiar and comforting. Like it’s supposed to be there.
It’s been there all her life, and she still can’t explain it. She wonders if she should ask someone to help her figure it out. Someone like a magician. But she knows better than to follow that temptation. It would be a poor idea to make a deal with a magician now, especially considering her position. She can’t afford to give anyone a potential position of advantage over the Gates.
She’s mulling over this idea when a soft whicker reaches her ear. Her head pops up, and her orange eye takes in the sight of a familiar silver dapple mare. Fiasko’s face lights up with a crooked smile. She doesn’t know the mare well yet, but from the few times they’ve interacted, Fiasko knows the mare to be open, friendly and caring. “Good morning Wichita!” She finds it so odd to be called ‘my lady.’ She’s only new at this crown - she doesn’t deserve any honourifics. And with the Gates so small, she feels that it’s important to be close to the other members of the kingdom. “And you can just call me Fiasko.”
06-21-2015, 10:23 AM (This post was last modified: 06-21-2015, 10:29 AM by Wichita.)
The little mare bobs her dial up and down in her happiness. It was indeed a good morning, and made even better yet when she had found some company. At the suggestion of calling the Queen just Fiasko, she laughed. "Well, all righ' just plain ol' Fiasko then,"she says in agreement. "You seem pretty chipper today, something good happen? Did we get another herd member?" she questions, perhaps a bit too excitedly. She always felt best when around other females, more at ease, sliding into the interaction with little effort. That was not to say that she didn't feel comfortable with the stallions in the herd. On the contrary, she felt a strong bond with them as well, they were both everything opposite of what she knew. Not once had they hurt her, or called her names and that in itself was a huge step up from her last digs.
Wichita was determined to help strengthen their kingdom, and a new herd member, that would be wonderful. She knew they were small in numbers, but she felt that they were big in heart. If you asked Wichita, that meant more to her than some silly old number, but that's just not how the world worked. A small herd meant a weak herd, or at least in the eyes of most. She would need to do better, she would need to help more. She looked eagerly at the painted mare in front of her, auds forward and alert, all too ready to learn the answers.
Wichita responds with equal enthusiasm and Fiasko’s smile widens. The silvered mare has been a welcome addition to the Gates so far, and Fiasko is looking forward to the opportunity to get to know her better. “No, not yet. It’s nothing really in particular.” She glances down, then back at the mare. That’s not entirely true. “Well, it’s just that it’s nice to see you. The Gates has always been so quiet, as long as I can remember, and it’s nice to have a new face around. Especially one as friendly as you.” She likes seeing this little bit of life brought back to the kingdom. Fiasko really, really hopes that Wichita will want to stay.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get to know you a little better.” She pauses, looking at the mare. She has too few friends in her life and she hopes that, if she is willing, Wichita can be added to their numbers. “I can tell you a little bit about myself as well! I’ve lived in the Gates since I was only a year old. I was adopted by Finnley and Kaelie, the horses that ruled before my predecessor, after Kaelie found me in the meadow.” She laughs suddenly. “I have to admit though, other than that and my recent rise to the throne, my life has been pretty uneventful.” She smiles broadly. “What about yourself? What brought you to Beqanna?” She clearly remembers the state Wichita had been in when Jason had brought her here - the mare had appeared to be in some distress. She wants to make sure that she’s not prying though. “If you’re not comfortable telling me though it’s quite alright.”
It comes as a shock, though it probably really shouldn’t have. The automatic reaction she has when she is asked about her past, causing her to wince. The conversation had started out rather merry, Wichita was glad to hear that she was a welcome addition to the herd. “Well then ain’t that the berries! I sure am glad ta be here.” She was more than glad really, it was what she secretly wanted, deep down. Just to be a part of a herd, to be welcome, and wanted. It was a feeling she was rather unfamiliar with, of course her mother had loved and wanted her, but this was entirely different.
The Queen shares a bit about herself as well, though perhaps not answering all of Wichita’s questions. Like the one about her scar. She had never heard what exactly had happened for the lovely paint to receive it, and she was unsurprisingly curious. Her mood soured from its otherwise shining brilliance, slipping into a somber quiet.
“Well,” she began, walking a bit, perhaps some movement would ease the telling,“I’m not from Beqanna originally of course, you know that. I grew up some ways from here, round about the parts of Petrolia.”The funny words slipping from her mouth make no difference, her tongue is used to the curve and pattern of their sounds. “My- my mother raised me in a fair size herd, ours not near nice a place as this un. Mos’ly flat grasslands, and some mountains to one side. Not really mountains though, not like there are here. My father was the lead, as mos’ fathers are I guess. He was different though, not kind, not like Jason or Mast.”she supplied comparison as though one might be needed. “He really liked ta be the boss, I guess you could say. He wanted ta be the ‘Big Man large and in charge’ needed to have the best and biggest herd. Well, where I come from that means havin’ the most and purdiest mares. Even if that means breeding within’ yur own stock.” Her eyes were kept straight ahead, perhaps an attempt to look like she was watching where she was going. Truth is, she wasn’t she hardly saw what was in front of her at all. “I-I didn’t want ta do that,” her voice cracking and becoming more strained as she struggled to speak past the lump in her throat. “So I thought I’d fight him for once, but I’ve never been any good for a fight. Momma stepped in though, just as things were bout ta get bad. Now she’s gone mor’n like, and that’s all my fault.”
The image of her mother’s face that day would never leave, the whites of her eyes staring back at her in alarm. She had only one parting word from her, to carry with her throughout the rest of her years.
07-17-2015, 06:27 PM (This post was last modified: 07-17-2015, 06:27 PM by Fiasko.)
fiasko
She can see that she’s hit a nerve when she asks about Wichita’s past and she winces at her own clumsiness. She, of all people knows what it’s like to want to put the past behind you and never think of it again. It took years for her to feel comfortable enough with someone to talk of her own past, and even now, that person is the only one she’s ever told. It’s ridiculous of her to pry into someone else’s own dark history.
And yet, much to her surprise, Wichita tells her. She tells her of her herdland, of her father and his cruelty, and of her mother. Her heart goes out to the mare - though their stories are entirely different, they have both experienced much that no horse should ever have to experience. She reaches out tentatively to brush Wichita’s neck, before pulling away. “Oh Wichita, I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s his, all his.”
She looks away, considering. She owes it to Wichita to be more forthcoming. She owes her more than half answers. “I … I blamed myself for a long time, for, well, this.” She looks back at Wichita - it should be pretty clear what she’s talking about. “My mother … she’s the one that did it. She hated me. Called me an abomination. A fiasco.” The painful truth behind her name. “For the longest time I blamed myself. If I had been different, if I had been … more, maybe she would never have done it.” She sighs. It had taken a long, long time to learn to not blame herself. Even now it’s still hard. “But it’s not my fault - not your fault. I was a child. You were a child. Our parents should have protect us. And they did not.”
Wichita is not surprised at the apologies given, even though Fiasko was not to blame in any form. It's nice though, the sincere care the Queen bestows on her herd. A soothing touch is offered and the little mare accepts it, a soft nicker in thanks whispers from her maw.
What she finds surprising is that the tables have turned, and now the painted mate shares her own story. Wichita is filled with a sadness, it was an awful story. She couldn't imagine a mother acting in such a way, females in her old herd were so different, these actions unheard of. Fiasko had even kept the name her mother had uttered in her hate, that had to be a terrible feeling growing up.
The mood lightens, if just a small bit. Fiasko tells her that it is not truly their fault, but the fault of their parents. Perhaps she is right. She has a hard time swallowing this thought, and is not wholely convinced. It is a nice sentiment though, one she won't soon forget, even if she can not believe it just yet. Wichita carried a lot of shame still, and a terrible sense of self value. "Perhaps yer right."she offers, still mulling over the thought.
"At any rate, least they ain't around to hurt us anymore."it's the only bit of light she can muster about their situations.
She can feel the empathy from Wichita as she relays her own story. They’ve both suffered more than most in their short lives. They’ve both experienced pain and loss that no horse should have to experience, and have both survived. It’s left them scared, but it’s made them stronger
If only they can manage to keep surviving.
“I am right.” She smiles grimly. “I know well that it’s easier said than done to stop blaming yourself. It will take time. And even when things get better, there are still times that you will waver.” She reaches her neck tentatively across Wichita’s, in a sort of horsie hug. She knows that the one thing that had helped her to heal the most had been the support of her new family and friends in the Gates - Kaelie, Finnley and Jason. She wants to do the same for the silvered mare, be there for her in whatever capacity she needs.
“Yes. They are gone, or at least far away. And even if they did come here, we have friends that would support us. Would even fight for us if need be.” She’s struck by a sudden image of Depravity meeting Jason. She can’t help but smirk, just a little - she doesn’t think the grey stallion would be terribly good at restraining himself. And she’s not sure that she would want him to even try.
She immediately tries to shake the thought - it’s abnormally blood thirsty for her - and turns pulls away from Wichita. “Well, now that we’ve thoroughly depressed ourselves, maybe we should find a distraction. Want to go for a swim?”
