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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    i see trouble on the rise | Castile
    #1
    i feel
    a bad moon rising
    Talk to Castile, Straia had said. Talk to him, as though that were a simple request. A month ago it would have been; there were few creatures in Beqanna that Lepis trusted like she did the piebald. But now? Now, with the rumors (many confirmed) of the burning north? Now, with the changes that she’d brought to Loess in his absence?

    Lepis is not ashamed of her actions, and she can only hope that the same is true for Castile.

    She stands on a red precipe, easily visible from the sky, and sends out a mental call.

    [Uncle?] is the unspoken word, silent and strong. [Uncle, it is past time we talk.]

    Settling her wings to her sides, the dun mare looks down at the kingdom that spreads below her. Her kingdom, as it had once been and is now again. She had told the magician that she had wanted peace, and some part of her knows now that Loess peace, regardless of what it might have embroiled itself it at any given time. She has Loess, and for now that is enough.

    For now.

    @[Castile]
    n | l
    #2
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    Castile roams freely among the clouds, wavering between nomadic freedom and allegiance to Loess. In truth, he doubts relinquishing all care for the kingdom. It holds a great part of him and it has granted him a life he never imagined. It has given him so much that he cannot wholly turn his back on it, even after resigning the throne.

    He was here, observing and listening, but gradually moseyed to the river where he glanced into a life he once had with a woman he once treasured. During those hours, the weight of Loess lifted from his shoulders and he experienced an odd sense of peace. All good things, of course, come to an end. The held conversation concluded, and in his wanderings, Castile haphazardly returned home.

    High among the clouds is when Lepis’ voice reaches the innerworkings of his mind. Out of sight, Castile flinches. A sudden jerk of his head is the greatest acknowledgment of her entry. Warily, he listens and considers it, but silence envelopes him as his banks and shifts his body into that of a horse. Able to revert to his natural form again, he gingerly attempts to ease any tension by approaching her like this – by looking like her uncle instead of a monster. This, of course, doesn’t discount his disappointment in her as he alights skillfully in front of her with a look of stern resolution.

    Amid the chaotic events of his life, Castile remembers what he told Ilma. Oceane was to succeed him. Rather than take her back, Lepis seized the throne for herself.

    She turned down the opportunity when he presented it to her on a silver platter, but then grappled for it the second he allowed the crown to tumble from his brow.

    Coiling his draconic wings to his side, Castile takes a few final steps before drawing to a halt and piercing Lepis with a keen stare. ”Then talk,” he gruffly states, not at all exhibiting his draconic self except for the wings neatly folded.


    castile



    @[Lepis]
    #3
    i feel
    a bad moon rising
    Lepis had not realized she’d grown accustomed to his dragon form until Castile lands as a horse. She blinks her storm-blue eyes, the only outward sign of her surprise, but then her gaze narrows. He’d been stuck as a dragon, he’d said, and now he is once more a horse. Had the fairies released him, then? She wonders. Or had he freed himself?

    The sternness in his expression is not unfamiliar to the blue-pointed pegasus, but she is no longer a child to be chided for her misbehaviors. Once he had the right to correct her, to turn her back to the correct course when she veered away. Those days are long gone, and the relationship of uncle-and-niece had become one more akin to siblings.

    "You burnt the North," she says, and despite the weight of the statement there is no condemnation in her tone. She merely waits, searching his familiar mismatched eyes for some acknowledgement of his actions.

    "You burnt the North." Lepis repeats, whether he confirms it or not. "The place might have needed a bit of heat, but I doubt that setting the Icicle Island ablaze will reflect well on Loess." See what you’ve done, she says without saying the exact words aloud, without adjusting the cool tone of her voice.

    "Shall I attribute it to Fairy Madness, then?" Lepis asks, but it is clear from the way she continues that she does not expect an answer. "That’s’ what I’ve told myself must have afflicted you, at least. What beyond the supernatural would have you think informing me of your succession through Ilma was a good idea? The woman cannot keep from meddling in places and things that do not involve her, and you thought her an appropriate messenger?" Now there is something in her voice, incredulity creeping in despite her still expression, disbelief tinting her words. "and Oceane? Really?"

    Lest he think her dubious of the woman’s ability (for Lepis thinks the striped mare will make a fine leader) she continues without much pause.

    "She was captive in Pangea. She is captive in Pangea. Making her queen while in their possession would have weakened Loess. It was not acceptable."

    Her intent in calling him here is complete. He was owed an explanation, and now he has one. Lepis is satisfied, and she waits for a reply with her mouth drawn in a thin line.

    @[Castile]
    n | l
    #4
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    ”I heard you the first time,” he snips back, sweeping his tail across his hocks as the only indication of his regrets, but her tone lacks chastisement and so he reels himself back and sighs. ”Obviously fairy madness,” he shrugs while considering whether or not indulging her with what transpired and what plagued him. He wasn’t right in the head. Thinking back to it, everything is muddled. What deep-rooted hate does he have for Icicle Isle? Even in retrospect, he isn’t sure.

    But it’s done. The territory has been burned. Ice melted and geysers formed. The tree at the pond crackled with an eternal, blue flame.

    The landscape changed, but maybe, just maybe, it will be for the best.

    ”No one was killed,” it’s the only reassurance he can provide her, but even then, he speaks almost coldly, without remorse even if it exists in the crevices of his mind. ”There was opposition. I’ve already faced Ruinam and Leilan. It’s over and done with, Lepis.” When she started speaking, she didn’t chide him, but now the tone leaks into her words. Castile prickles, lifting his flashing eyes to hers. His lip curls. ”Yes, Oceane. She is deserving of the throne you snatched up,” he cannot suppress the snarl that rises from deep in his throat, ”When she returns, I want to see that crown on her head. Loess needs a change. You’ve led it once, then Taiga. Share the glory, Lepis.” His eyes narrow on her. ”Why haven’t we taken her back then? Why are we letting her rot in Pangea?”

    Lepis is firm toward him in a way he used to be when she was but a young girl. It’s a strange to see her brimming with disappointment, as they’ve always been on the same page.

    His eyebrows stitch together in a furrow and he shifts his bodyweight to straighten defiantly against her. ”By the time her absence was noted and confirmed, I had lost myself. So, again, why haven’t we tried getting her back?” Taking a step back, scales ripple in and out of slight along his body. ”You know what, I’ll get her back, whether I have to steal or fight.”


    castile



    @[Lepis]
    #5
    i feel
    a bad moon rising
    I heard you the first time, he says, and while she doesn’t roll her eyes, she does let out a quick huff of breath. Lepis very much doubts this will be the last time he hears the accusation, but at least he seems to have understood. That’s all she wanted, really, and she dismisses it with a flick of her own white-tipped tail.

    His assurance that no one was killed is reassuring. This time, the quiet breath she releases is relieved. The last thing that she need was death on her conscious. Or on her reputation, come to think of it. Doubly relieved then, at least until he speaks of his opposition, naming the man who had so recently shepherded Alcinder to safety and the fox-friend that Lepis had reassured not a year past that Castile was not the monster the Tephran war made him seem. It’s over and done with, he says. Does he think that will fix things? She doesn't reply, uncertain how to do so without pointing out the foolishness of his assumption, and she is grateful she does not, for when she glances up it is to a curled lip and flashing eyes.

    The snarl that accompanies his demand is met with a sudden coolness in Lepis expression.  The dun mare had not hid her emotions from him until this moment, and they slip back behind a still mask that reveals nothing. She is calm, stoic even, when he demands that she share the glory, that she carry out the demands he had made when king, when he accuses her of letting Oceane rot in Pangea.

    Lepis does not respond when he makes his excuse.  It is an honest one, but nestled between the same rash sort of thinking that had gotten them both into this predicament in this first place. The scales that ripple along his sides merit a single glance, but there is no fear in her eyes, there is nothing at all until he verbalizes the decision to get her back himself.

    "You will not." She says, each word a crack. Her blue mouth pulls into a thin line, and her grey eyes meet his. For all the burning emotion in them, she searches still for some semblance of the man that she is still sure he is, buried deep inside this madness that still has not left him.

    "When I visited her," she says, forcing the words to come more slowly than the first, observing him carefully for a reaction to the fact that she’d already been to Pangea. She has already taken steps that he accuses her of ignoring; she does not have to make excuses. Her actions speak for themselves. "She was fine. Since the Loessian people wished for an end to the conflict with Pangea and her captors were uninterested in releasing her, the situation was not escalated."

    Has he so quickly forgotten what was said by the very people he had led? By those she now leads?

    "They hold two of our people Castile. They murdered two others. Do you truly think Oceane will appreciate being rescued if such an action endangers this entire kingdom?" She won’t, Lepis’ expression says, and she knows that if Castile would release his stubborn pride, he would know it too.

    She might be able to stop him, she thinks, if she were to fill his mind with the proper dose of emotion. Exhaustion and confusion and fear, enough to keep him grounded, thoughts of theft and battle far from his mind. But she does not trust the reaction of a dragon to equine emotion, and she will not risk endangering the rest of the kingdom to keep the former king from making more mistakes.

    "You’ve picked a fight with the North and the West in setting that island on fire, and now you want to resume prodding at the East when they have finally given us a moment’s peace?" She shakes her head, the mask of emotionlessness having fully fallen away as she speaks, replaced by one of incredulity. "If you insist on doing this, you do it alone. Play white knight for your lover if you feel you must, but do not expect Loess’ help or gratitude."

    With that she steps back herself, her head still shaking in a nameless emotion. It’s not quite disappointment, not quite sadness. There is a moment in life when one realizes that those who raised them are not perfect, that they are flawed in a myriad of ways. It had happened early with Heda – Lepis had never known her mother to be perfect, but it has taken decades for her to feel it toward Castile. It is not a comfortable feeling, but she does not replace it with another. Better to acknowledge this one, she knows. Better to feel it, and to let it make her stronger for the ache of it.

    @[Castile]
    n | l
    #6
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    Lepis knows he would never – will never – hurt her. It’s in the stoicism of her eyes and in the flatness of her expression as she regards him. A primal snarl and a flash of scales does nothing to unsettle her, but Castile doesn’t reveal his agitation toward this. Composing himself, he takes a single step back and slowly extends his wings.

    (Let us fly)

    Once, when Alcinder was stolen, she was quick to try taking him back. Don’t appear weak, was that not the point of her meeting? And yet now she tries to halt his escapades and refuses his mission to bring Oceane home. A deep breath bursts from him, an explosion of surprise and disappointment as their eyes level on one another. ”She has been there long enough,” he growls, wanting her home as quickly as Alcinder had returned and wanting life to settle back down. But Lepis doubts this possibility of this – he can see it in her face. ”The West didn’t partake. Nerine didn’t partake. Icicle Isle had – has – very few numbers. It’s an irrelevant territory, but before I left, I saw Leilan call everyone. He is taking over. It all worked in his favor,” each sentence is clipped as Castile duels with his mounting aggravation.

    ”Funny how you’re willing to take part in thievery if it wins you favor,” his voice sharpens disapprovingly, ”but when there is someone else that was meant to succeed me, you refuse to take part.” Tilting his head, Castile searches her face for a reaction as the impassive façade she adorned crumbles away. ”I don’t need gratitude from you when I bring one of our own back home,” his ears falls back into his tousled metallic locks. ”The East decided on their own accord to target us,” as though that makes it better, but he shakes his head disapprovingly at her. ”I will get Oceane back, and I will tell her that she was to succeed me. I will reunite her with our son so she can resume her place here,” the firm, unyielding tone in his voice confirms the decision he has made, ”and I will not be chided like your damn child after everything I’ve done and been through.” To avoid snarling – exhibiting further irritation – Castile clenches his jaws. His body is statue-still, quiet and impassive, but still his wings are slightly opened, twitching as a breeze tumbles past.


    castile



    @[Lepis]
    #7
    i feel
    a bad moon rising
    Oceane has been in Pangea long enough.

    Lepis does not disagree. Any time in captivity is too long for her friend. That most of that captivity was under Castile’s rule, and that the entirety of Alcinder’s was, Lepis does not bring up. It lingers at the forefront of her mind nonetheless, held back behind the knowledge that casting blame will do none of them favors. The control over her expression that she has relinquished returns as Castile argues with her, claiming that the West and Nerine were not involved. He set fire to a territory belonging to the north, and was opposed by a Western leader, and he wants to argue that they were uninvolved. Let him thinks so, she thinks; he is not the one that will have to deal with the blowback.

    The dun mare’s ear flick forward at the mention of Leilan taking over the island. Well, she thinks, at least that means Jesper hadn’t made it back in time to be endangered by the destruction. What will become of the northern island? She allows herself to wonder for a brief moment. She’d told Dracarys that a visit there would include an offer of aid, and now it seems that Loess owes their new leader a boon as well. Lepis hasn’t forgotten the bronze dragon’s return of Alcinder, after all. At the word ‘funny’, her attention turns back fully to Castile, who still seems determined to fault Lepis.

    If it wins you favor, he says, and for a moment she is uncertain what he means. Favor? The accusation that follows, that she must want Oceane as a captive to cement her claim to rulership, only further adds further clouds.

    Oh, she thinks. Oh yes. The theft of Brennen and Jesper.

    The pensive look she gives him is surely not what he expects after the accusation, the coolness in her expression requiring no effort. He thinks she ordered that theft to gain favor? Lepis? She does not need favor. She’d wanted them to weaken the North, and to use as a bargaining chip. She’d have released them both the moment she’d gotten what she wanted, yet the theft of Brennen had failed, and the very horse that she’d wanted the magician’s assistance with had been the one to successfully sneak away with Jesper. The Tod of the Icicle Isle had no purpose in her plans, which was why her first action after assuming power had been to release him.

    Castile continues in what she can only assume is an effort to provoke her. He’ll disobey her, he says, he’ll do his best to cause strife between Oceane and Lepis. Lepis sighs, and shakes the long hair of her navy mane.

    "If you don’t want to be treated like a child, Castile, then perhaps you should stop acting like one." With that and another shake of her head, she takes a second step away, flaring her own wings to catch the wind and depart.

    @[Castile]
    n | l
    #8
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    For the first time in over fifteen years, there is disruption between Castile and Lepis. It aggravates him, but he has nothing more to lose, not anymore. Everything slips through his fingers, but he realizes that much of it is his own fault. Everything crashed in his final weeks – months? – as a king, and that is what everyone remembers. That is what everyone funnels their energy and opinions on.

    He is quiet except for the scoff that punctuates Lepis’ frigid statement. ”I’ll see my way out then,” a crude ad mocking bow dips his forehand toward the ground. There is nothing more to say or do now. A smug, unapologetic grin lopsidedly curves his mouth before he takes flight. The shackles Loess has clapped around his ankles years ago disintegrate. The sense of obligatory entrapment subsides in his agitation when he looks at her one last time.

    Not forever, he tries to tell himself. Nothing ever lasts forever.

    With a huff of black smoke, Castile takes to the skies, disappearing into the horizon.


    castile



    @[Lepis]




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