"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
For a half-dozen centuries zer children have bickered back and forth, and ze has finally had enough.
Beqanna gathers them to zerself one midwinter day.
They assemble in a semi-circle around their MotherFather, each looking subdued and rather shy. None of them look apologetic despite their crimes, and so Beqanna takes it upon zerself to punish them, to ensure that they know of their crimes.
“I have allowed you governance of your own worlds, but you have disappointed me. What right do you have to discriminate?” Here ze looks to Desert, Valley, and Dale. “And you three – why do you think yourselves responsible for draining my magic from those who seek your shelter?” Beqanna’s flinty gaze settles on Falls, Gates, and Chamber. “And all of you –dividing yourselves? What are light and dark but two halves of a whole? I am ashamed”
“I take back the magics I have given you. I take them all back.” Ze does so, pulling back the magic into the earth. Each of zer children will feel it, god and equine alike. They will feel a ripple in their spirits, an intangible something pulled out of them in all directions at once. They will not feel its absence because it has only relocated, drawn back into Beqanna’s heart.
“You may have them back in time, but this time the division of power will be fair. You are siblings, and it is time that you act like it.”
With one cool breath, ze strips Amazon of her tattoos. “Your followers make an oath, but they do not swear to the right gods. Take this, and raise him. His growth will reflect my pleasure with you.” A cub appears at the feet of Amazon, a jaguar that winds itself between her legs. Tundra is next, and his scars grow less distinct as Beqanna tells him: “Do not forget your origins. I will bring your ruins to light that your people might remember the past. They are but stones for now – they will change if you improve.
Beqanna turns to the rest of them, and with a deep inhalation strips them of their power. “You have forgotten me. I will change the lives of your people to ensure that you do not forget again.” Beqanna is the earth and the sky and the water, and one by one ze alters the kingdoms. Some remain the same, others shift minutely. To Chamber and Valley ze gives a single seed, telling them to “plant it, and ensure that it grows strong.” To Gates, Falls, Desert, Dale she gifts zer waters. “Place these where you will, and protect them. Do not allow them to become dry, or suffer my displeasure.”
And then, in a swirl of stars, Beqanna is gone and zer children return to the worlds they occupy, each to speak in dreams with the leader of their followers. They appear as the most awe-inspiring dream, each as individual as the horse they appear to.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Chamber appears to Straia: “I have planted a seed within your borders. Protect it, and in time it will show you things beyond natural sight. . I return to your members all magics that I have taken away. In time, the tree might grant you immortality as long as you rule, and the same to your predecessors. To two members it will give wings, and to the leader of your army a horn. Your lead peace member will become empathetic and their second-in-command invisible. Petition me, and I might grant something more.” And then they are gone.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
In summary -
ROYALTY:
-King/Queen allowed immortality as long as they rule - non-genetic
-King/Queen allowed one trait that is in line with the kingdom (ie Tundra ice manipulation, Desert's sand shifting, etc)
ARMY:
-Wings to maximum 2 horses to have "airforce" - non-genetic (allow license to make wings cooler, like butterfly wings, etc)
-Horns to leader of the army - non-genetic (any horn is acceptable)
DIPLOMATS:
-Empathy to leader of the peace caste - non-genetic
-Invisibility to second highest member of the peace caste - non-genetic
All of these traits can be given without approval, except for the one king/queen trait that is not immortality. This trait must be approved by administration, and is contingent upon ruling. Kingdom granted traits will not be marked in the database, to show they are both non-genetic and disappear once that horse has ceased to serve in that kingdom. You may add them to your profile with the caveat that they're kingdom granted. Traits are granted by the magical entity's alliance with the king/queen, who has sworn to protect the magical entity while it's in its fledgling state. Because your kingdom's magical entity is still an infant it will take 6 months (2 RL years) for the trait to come to full fruition. If your queen/king possesses magic they may grant the trait themselves. All other kingdom granted traits are now completely gone (see directly below).
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Beqanna will be roaming the Meadow for several weeks. If zer grandchildren feel too defenseless without the magics that zer children have now taken from them, perhaps they might seek zer out. Be warned, Beqanna is benevolent but not overly generous.
Straia is cowed by nothing, but when Beqanna calls to them, she is no fool either. She doesn’t come with her head held high as it so often is, with the look of a Queen in her eyes. She comes as she should, respectful and slightly curious. Perhaps she should be fearful, perhaps she should feel some remorse. But these things don’t cross her mind. Had Beqanna ever come to them before? Not that she knew of, in the stories she’s been told. How can she not be curious as history unfolds before them? How can she not hope that this might change the fate of the Chamber.
And oh, how she is not disappointed. Yes, they are reprimanded for calling themselves darks. Though if she had room to argue, she’d point out she doesn’t call them evil, just determined. Is she evil? No, not really. But she can’t say she always has the best plans in mind. Then again, did Camrynn? Scorch? Whatever division they had created were foolish, and it was long time they were done away with entirely anyway. Straia can’t disagree.
But the thing that catches her attention more, the thing that makes the corners of her mouth quirk up with a smile, is when the magic shifts. No longer can the other kingdoms hand out traits like candy, leaving the Chamber to wallow because others seek power over loyalty to a land. No, they were equal now. Kavi could wear the world on his skin, and Oksana could stay without her wings ripped from her sides. The Chamber could have its power back. Oh, the Chamber was strong without magic.
Imagine what it could do with magic.
Then Beqanna is in front of her, just her, and it must be a dream. The world is not quite as it should be, everything magnificent, the way it had been before the disasters. Everything is explained then, and all they need to do is grow a tree. The Chamber is very good at trees. She grins in the dream, and when she wakes, she finds that she’s standing in the middle of the kingdom near a patch of dirt that looks freshly dug and patted back down. It’s right by the heart, and the old charred mother tree they shared with the Gates.
She looks at the ground for a bit, feeling almost giddy with the changes. But maybe that’s not what makes her feel this way. It takes some time before she begins to understand that there’s something more. Some sort of power flowing through her veins. It couldn’t be from Beqanna herself – she wasn’t giving anything out. But maybe the Chamber? A thank you for staying when the kingdom was in ruin. Maybe something she always had, and simply never knew? After all, there’s never been a day where she didn’t serve the Chamber.
Whatever it is, she can feel it like wings inside her. After a moment, there’s a raven perched on her shoulder. It caws, and two more ravens appear in the air, made of fire. Again, it caws, and two ice ravens join it. She laughs, and at the sound of her laugh the sky comes alive with ravens made of light and dark, ice and fire. They swirl around her, diving in and out of the sky. She has no real idea how she made them, and certainly no ability to control them yet. But that would come, in time. For now, she lets them swirl through the Chamber. If the others hadn’t already come to this spot, certainly the sound of her laughter and the elemental ravens would draw them here. Let them come. Let them see just what the Chamber would be.
07-01-2015, 06:40 PM (This post was last modified: 07-01-2015, 06:42 PM by Killdare.)
Killdare did not dream.
If he had, he did not remembered it. That may be because he had a poor imagination, if any at all. He thought it strange, how he had heard voices. Far off, somewhere. He was on the edge of consciousness, that feeling between awake and asleep. The mind free to flow between both states freely. Was that even words at all? Laughter, yes, that was laughter.
Laughter?! his mind exclaimed,as he forced his lids open. Sea green eyes, searching the night. It was still night, the darkness of the witching hour lay thick among the wood. Where were the others? Had Engel not been resting just yards from him? He had taken to sleeping in the copse with her, in case thieves in the night intended to raid. That was when they always came, during the stillness of the night. It had always been that way, his eyes searched for her. No sign of her golden pelt anywhere. His auds flickered madly atop his crown, attempting to locate the disturbance.
It was then that he spotted something. Yes, something alright. Lights, flickering through the pines. Some alight with a cold glow like a winters kiss, other burning their image into his iris. Burning. Had they been set alight with flame again? His thoughts turned to those of everything and anything that could do wrong. Focus and move! he growled at himself. Spinning out in the mulch, a spray of decaying leaves in his wake.
He was off. Barreling through the trees like a freight train. He had improved on making his way between the pine totems. Caressing his sides with their bark instead of destroying them, branch by brittle branch. Hmmph Hmmph Hmmph, his breathing became heavier as he gained momentum. Killdare was never fast though, he probably never would be. Not like those with lithe spindly forms, Arabians, Quarters. He could never outrun a horse, no, not in the sense that one might think. Zipping through the treeline, a blur of motion. He could outrun a horse, for hours. Chugging along farther, eating up the earth on and on and on. When the other had tired of their sprinting? Well, their skinny legs made the most beautiful music beneath his mass as he sent them plummeting to the ground. As he progressed, he threw away thought of fire. These lights had not spread like they should, had not come to caress his carriage with tongues of flame. This was something else.
Something else, entirely. There was Straia, he saw as he reached the clearing. The one where the charred twin of a tree sat. Nearby, a heart thudded gently, continuing to cling to a life that was beyond it. Straia though, she was absolutely jubilant. It was if he had never seen her before, not truly, not until now. Things had changed, he knew, as he approached, gut heaving. A smirk filtered through and traced its way along his maw. He waited still as stone, elemental light reflecting in his orbs.
((The first post i wrote was way more kickass. Computer decided it couldn't handle all that badassery i guess ))
He blinks, and he is back. He thinks for just a moment that it was all a strange dream, that it was all – nothing.
And then he catches sight of his own leg out of the corner of his eye. A deep wine red. He feels his heart race in panic for a moment, and quickly looks over his entire body (or, as much as he can) – deep wine-red, blue and green in his mane and tail. But all of it is fur, all of it is natural, and he knows his surroundings to be the Chamber.
In fact, he's in the exact spot where he was when plucked and sent into that strange otherworld. He's in the same place, and yet it feels impossibly different. The world seems to call out to him now, something that he can't quite define seems to ebb and flow, to eddy around everything like water but it isn't water.
And above all, he feels – both hot and cold. It's almost impossible to describe.
But even as he registers a myriad of sensations that he can't process, Beqanna adds one to the list. Something ripples out from the heart of the kingdom, making his heart skip a beat and twisting his insides in a funny way. He can't place what it is, but he knows that it is strange and new, and he must find his queen and make sure that she is safe.
He knows in his bones where he'll find her, and his strong legs carry him to the heart of the Chamber easily enough. He sees her then, and Killdare too, but he's too busy marveling at her to think of acknowledging the other man.
He stares at the sky in mute wonder as the ravens swirl, knowing somehow that they come from his mother. He knows in that moment that she is okay, that she is unharmed, but that she is forever changed. He understands then, even though Straia has said nothing, he knows that the restrictions that used to ban magic here have fallen away. He knows that what she has is a gift – and that it's new, because she had once told him she had no magic, and he knows she would not lie to him.
And he laughs with delight, a rich sound like melting chocolate. He laughs because it's all so glorious, because the Chamber is at last unbound, because he can feel the joy of the flight of ravens, the power that now radiates from his mother. And perhaps he laughs because in the back of his mind he remembers a time when he was plastic, because he is still wine-red with dark green and dark blue in his mane and tail, and because he is both hot and cold all at once, and because the entirety of the Chamber seems to shimmer around him.
And as he laughs, the air around him becomes a shower of sparks. Like miniature fireworks, little pockets of gases in the air superheat and explode. Harmless, like fireworks in miniature, or exploding fireflies.
And suddenly, concerned, he stops laughing. His jubilation calms, and with it, the air calms. He looks to Killdare, and to his mother, the raven queen in all her glory. "Everything is different now, isn't it." he speaks calmly, and it is a statement rather than a question.
As though to prove his point, he focuses hard, closing his eyes and using all the discipline and training he's gathered, all of the wisdom-beyond-his-years that he's ever had. And when he opens his eyes again, a small ball of radiant fire is swirling in front of him. He sustains it carefully, letting it draw in fresh oxygen and fresh material to feed off of as it swirls. It doesn't last long before he gets it a little wrong, before it sputters out and dies, but he's answered the question that the sparks had raised. It would take time and practice, his gift did not come as naturally to him as his mother's did to her, but it was only fitting: Straia's power had erupted from within, whereas his had been granted by an erstwhile fairy, earned in pain and torture (and a whole lot of melting).
Melting, he thinks with a wry grin. How very ironic.
Do you believe you're missin' out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
The laughter does not wake me. Nor do the ravens; no, their pretty flashes of fire, ice, light, and dark do not phase me. The whirl of air created by the barreling of a giant through the young pine-trees does not cause my ears to prick in curiosity. The sizzling of sparks and rising of smoke does not tear me from my slumber.
Perhaps nothing could rouse me in this darkest of nights, save the sudden feeling. The sudden comprehension. I am not woken by noise, movement, or scent, but rather, the beginning of true awareness. Beneath the oppressing blackness, two amber lights are illuminated. They watch the flickering of magical wings, wings untamed. And though they do not see who controls them (or rather who does not), I feel her. Straia. The ravens are of her, and I know it.
Why do I know it?
I arrive last to the scene, heralding the sunrise with me. Gold light flickers against my gold skin and my amber eyes. Grimly, I look towards my niece. She breathes exaltation. I look towards Killdare; he feels muddled. I squint, but these things are wonders not of the world, but of the mind. With slight frustration, I look to my oddly coloured great nephew, and he simply sparks. He feels hot.
“Oh, yes.”
In difference to the dawn, midnight begins stretching from the tip of my noise to the ends of my tail. Stars glimmer in the void of my pelt, as though one could walk in and forever be trapped within the endless space.
I am a galaxy.
”Different,” I grin darkly, twisting my head until my eyes, like two suns against the universe of my skin, meet Erebor's. “Yes… But in our favour.”
