04-05-2020, 09:51 AM
i feel
a bad moon rising
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]
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]
