"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
05-12-2020, 06:05 PM (This post was last modified: 05-20-2020, 03:39 PM by Tirza.)
A new day had dawned bright and crisp and Tirza promptly decided she wanted nothing to do with it. There were so many things to explore, faces to meet, things that could be done but the scaled filly just rolled over onto her side and huffed.
She could feel her brother nearby, the constant in her life, but for a few more precious seconds she did not even have the energy to acknowledge him.
Was there some magic that could allow her to sleep until she got bored of it, not becomes some big ol' dumb sun decided to rise or because her treacherous stomach decided it needed to be filled. That little pesky nuisance of life had woken her up earlier so the very least that the day could have done was to just never start so she could go back to sleep.
She did not open her dark grey eyes, just thumped her multi-coloured tail against the soft ground in a huff. Tirza was fully awake now but she was trying very hard not to be.
"Do me a favour and stand so that you're blocking the sun. Your fat head should do the trick."
The young filly was at least 75% sure her mother wasn’t close enough to hear that remark or assume it was directed at her - which was good. When possible, Tirza preferred to be on her best behaviour for her parents, wishing to impress them however she might, but her darling twin brother got no such treatment when they were alone. He was her favourite and Tirza would not pretend to be anything other than her true self when it was just the pair of them.
Still without opening her eyes, she speaks out into the morning air. “Gravy, why do we have to wake up every day?”
Stave had not expected to bring life into this world—not when so much of his life had been spent removing it. It was a strange sensation, the antithesis of his entire being, but he does not find that he overly regrets it. Instead, like so much in his life, he finds that it washes over him and leaves him relatively unscathed. It is only when the months have passed and he has discovered that the little ones have entered this world that his curiosity peaks. He heard rumors of Ghaul handing over the Cove to Gospel and while he is loath to leave Pangea, he does finally tear himself away for the day.
He walks quickly, his legs eating up the distance between the kingdoms. It’s dawn when he finally arrives and while he usually does his best to never see the sunrise, even he has to admit that the gentle light washing across the kingdom is not entirely unpleasant. He sniffs lightly, almost dismissive, before he casts his dark gaze over the rest of the kingdom. The pair of them catch his eye quickly and he stands still for a moment, watching as the pair of serpentine stars wrap around one another in the early morning.
He feels no great sense of paternal pride, no rush of love, but he does feel curiosity.
Tilting his head, his dark eyes consider them and then move to the horizon. Gospel is out there, he knows, and he looks forward to finding her once more. Perhaps they will resume their usual dance of life and death. Perhaps he will finally bleed the rest of it out of her while their children watch.
His lips purse in thought, a rush of adrenaline at the thought of it, before he focuses again on the children.
He reaches his gift into the ground for a moment, rooting through the soil and the roots until he finds what he is looking for. None so gently, he begins to pour the powers into it until the skeleton of the small deer. It was young when it passed, but bordering on adolescence. Still, it was fresh enough that the bones were all intact. It erupts from the soil in one swift motion, shaking the dirt from the bleached ivory of its skeleton. He smiles at it before jerking his head toward the twins. Without hesitation, the deer begins to run over there, rattling as it does. Finally, something of a smile tilts Stave’s lips.
He’d been awake for hours.
Watching the distant shore glow as the waves crashed brilliant against the sand.
He’d thought about waking her, insisting that she watch it, too. Because they shared everything, the two of them, and had since they’d fought for space in their mother’s womb. But he’d decided to keep this for himself. All that breathless wonder.
He wonders if it makes him soft. To look at something and think it beautiful.
He wonders if their mother would be disappointed in him for wanting to sink his teeth into it just to see if any of it tasted as beautiful as it looked. But it is his secret, this softness.
It is the thumping of her tail that alerts him to the fact she’s awake. He does not startle at the sound of her voice, merely rolls his eyes at her request. Doesn’t move. He loves her dearly, his sister, but he is like their mother. He will not bend to anyone’s will. Not even hers.
He does not know enough about their father to know that he is like him, too.
He turns to look down at her, considering her question. Reaches down to nip at the crest of her neck. Like he might pull her up. But he doesn’t, just sinks his baby teeth gently into her flesh before he releases her. “Would you rather be dead?” he asks.
And it is then, ironically, that he lifts his head and spots the dead thing lurching toward them. His heart spasms with one stroke of fear as he nudges her. “Get up,” he says, urgent. And when she does not react quickly enough he says, “Tirza, get up now.” Like this is something he needs to protect her from.
These bleached, noisy bones. A deer that is certainly no longer a deer. He does not understand the magic and it is the unknown that frightens him. The eyes are wide when he looks past this cryptic gift to the figure in the shadows. And he does not recognize him for what he is, does not know that his own galaxies, Tirza’s galaxies, were born from his.
He flares his baby nostrils and shifts his baby feet. No match for either of them, the figure in the dark or this collection of bones hastily forced into the shape of the thing it once was, but he thinks maybe he can pretend.
She doesn’t immediately answer his question because she’s thinking it over - would she rather be dead? If she were dead, maybe she could be a ghost and then she could haunt the Cove and her brother. That didn’t sound so bad, really.
Before Tirza can open her mouth to inform him of this plan, the mood shifts as though the sun has been blocked by a cloud. The sudden change in her brother’s tone catches her attention - though she does little more than just roll her head to see what he was looking at. Then, finally, she scrambles upright because her sideways view of the scene was confusing. A skeleton is running towards them, and there is a figure behind it as well.
She can see the tensing in her brother’s muscles and the widening of his eyes, but she feels none of that. There is not even a flicker of fear in Tirza. It might trouble her later, to think back on it, but in that moment she did not feel the absence of the fear either. Gravitas seemed cautious, protective, but she just felt curious with a dash of her own desire to protect her twin.
After a first cautious step, the rest come more easily as she approaches the moving skeleton.
The concept of death has not settled on this filly’s mind completely yet - the permanence of it, anyway. She thinks she can become a ghost for a while and then return to her body when she gets bored of it. Perhaps that explains the complete lack of fear, taken over by a brazen interest that drives her to reach out boldly to tap her muzzle against the rib cage of the creature.
She pulls back her head for a moment, just long enough to spare a glance to the blue and black stallion she suspects had sent this gift before she moves her head again - but this time with the intent to grasp one of those rib bones with her teeth and then she jerks her head back to rip it out.
They do not coo at it either and he supposes that is right, also.
Instead they lurch to their feet and stand off against it. There is steel in their eyes and the girl actually attacks the deer. It nearly sets his temper off, having something of his own creation attacked like that, but he supposes that she is of his creation too and he thus lets it slide. Instead, he releases his grip on the deer and lets the bones fall to the ground, clattering as they do and lying in disarray at their feet.
Once a moment more passes, he moves from the shadows toward them. He cuts an imposing figure, but his prowess has never been in his lean muscle or large build. It’s always been in the cunning of his mind. The control he wields over life and death itself. There is something of that in his belly.
Something cruel.
Something cold.
“Are you pleased with yourselves?”
His voice has no warmth for his children—only the barest glimmer of paternal pride at their ferocity. He looks down his nose at the two of them, the endless black of his eyes searching them before nearly dismissing them. Stave stretches and flicks his tail at his hocks, almost impatient as he stands there.
“Where is your mother?” A glint of white teeth against the black of his muzzle. Something living there in the unsaid, in the real reason that he would want to see their serpentine of a mother.
An arched brow, a slow breath.
“Please take all day to answer. I have nothing better to do than wait.”
He thinks to call her back.
But he is not his sister’s keeper.
They are only children, young, but he does not question his sister’s ability to look after herself.
He thinks to call her back.
But he will not embarrass her in front of this stranger.
Because he does not question that his sister is every bit as fierce as their mother. The mother who had told them in no uncertain terms that she had oft thought of carving them out of her belly with her own fanged teeth.
He thinks to call her back.
But he merely watches as she takes a bone between her teeth and yanks. And it is only seconds later that the whole thing collapses and he thinks that it is his sister’s doing and he feels some swell of great pride.
The figure creeps closer then, closing up all the distance between them and Gravitas instinctively sidles up to join his sister where she stands. He sets his jaw, a juvenile display of courage, lifts his head and meets the stranger’s eye as steadily as he can manage.
He is young, confused by the stranger’s first question. What is there to be pleased about? He bumps his hip against Tirza’s, locks his baby knees. Looks back over his shoulder when the stranger asks after their mother. He wonders, in his baby way, if the stranger knows their mother or if the question had been something general. An accusation.
He tips back his galaxy-kissed head, meeting the stranger’s gaze again. Just in time for the remark to sink into the marrow of his ribcage. “Who are you?” he asks instead of answering.
06-18-2020, 04:15 PM (This post was last modified: 06-18-2020, 04:16 PM by Tirza.)
Tirza assumes that her removal of the rib bone is what has caused the skeleton to collapse and it sends a jolt of joy throughout her body. She did that. She holds the bone in her mouth for a moment, turning to her brother with her head and tail held high in triumph, before she turns back to see the shadowy figure approach. Gravitas joins her, the presence of his body beside hers inflating her bravado even further. Tirza tilts her head as she watches the stranger approach, trying to puzzle out who he is.
To the question about whether they were proud of themselves - the answer is a pretty obvious one though. She just blinks up at the star-strewn stallion and utters an incredulous “Yes.” around the bone in her mouth. Of course she is proud! She had toppled that skeleton? That was easily one of the coolest things to have ever happened to her so far.
While they are being asked about their mother, Tirza lowers her head and finally (carefully) places the rib on the ground by her hooves, nudging it fondly before lifting her head back up. Her snake eyes are narrowed in suspicion when she returns her attention to this stranger and she’s grateful that her twin seems to be of the same mind.
If Tirza could tell time, she would know that there had barely been enough a few seconds for them to answer about their mother (not that they were going to) before the stallion started getting all impatient. Like her brother though, the scaled filly just asks one of her own questions instead of answering the one that had been posed. “How do you know our mother?”
They are frustrating things and if he was more reflective, he may recognize Gospel’s and his own stubbornness reflected back at them. But he has never been particularly good at seeing his own faults and there is no true paternal warmth to soften his opinion of them, so instead he feels nothing but annoyance.
The slightest hint of rage if they were more worthy of his true wrath.
His lips pull back from his teeth in a show of his anger, although it is not his teeth and hoof that they need to worry about. His tail flicks, whips against his haunches, and he focuses on the sting for a moment to distract himself from the way that his throat grows warm with the words currently unsaid.
“Do you always evade questions when an elder asks you?” he turns a question back on them and this time, there is a slight heat to his words. He should not have to answer to children—let alone ones that he is responsible for bringing into the world. His temper flares again, this time growing cold, and he runs his fingers across their life force. He pulls on the strings of it, drags his knuckles against the length of it.
Perhaps they feel nothing.
Perhaps they feel that strange emptying—that sensation of being drained dry.
He stops quickly enough. Releases his grip to let it flood back into them fully, and his eyes never leave them. “Answer me before you regret it,” he says between gritted teeth, taking a step forward again. “I helped create you and I would be more than glad to be your undoing.”
He feels it.
At first he thinks he’s imagined it. The chasm that opens up in his chest, turns his breath thin, makes his nostrils flare.
And then, when he’s certain that he has not imagined it, he mistakes it for something that it’s not. He knows that it’s not fear, but he is young and there are so many things that he does not understand. There are so many emotions that he does not have names for.
But then it’s gone, just like that. Just as quickly as it had come and all the air in his chest expands, fills him up. There is nothing left but the stranger’s question, clipped. Not angry but certainly not warm. He feels no overwhelming need to protect their mother, really. It is more a matter of principle now, he thinks, as feeling returns to his mouth and the heart chugs back to its regular beat.
The stranger grits his teeth and Gravitas does the same. He lifts his head, drags in a big breath and holds it, puffs out his chest like he’s any match for the stranger that descends upon them. He knows so very little about magic, Gravitas. He does not understand that the stranger was responsible for that chasm in his chest. He does not understand this dark thing that feels like anger wrapping its cold fingers around his heart.
It takes him a moment to process the stranger’s threat. Or, rather, the preface. I helped create you. The boy frowns and glances at his sister, takes not of the galaxies splashed across her skin and how they compare to the stranger’s. He knows that his are the same.
“Why don’t you go find her yourself?” he snaps, emboldened perhaps by the knowledge that he is their father. But he wonders, too, why he feels no joy in this. He looks at the stranger and feels nothing at all.
07-20-2020, 02:25 PM (This post was last modified: 07-20-2020, 02:26 PM by Tirza.)
Tirza feels it too, and she feels the rage that fills the space that something leaves as it is drained. She pushes back against it, pushing out with a power she does not quite understand. And when that something (her life force, she just doesn’t know it yet) rushes back into her it pushes out her own little trick, pushes out into the galactic stallion before her as her grey snake eyes burn with annoyance and a flush of hatred.
When she feels his life force, she doesn’t tug it down, doesn't toy with it as he had theirs - she bites into it. Stealing a piece. The surprise of this action causes this power to snap back into her body, and she feels rejuvenated with whatever she had stolen. That sensation and her brother’s boldness beside her stops her from thinking too much about what she had just done.
It was just a few days that she had taken, not enough to make a difference in the end, but it was enough for her to get a taste of what she could do.
She fixes her father with as intimidating of a stare as a young filly can. It’s a matter of fact that they would have probably been this ornery no matter who showed up, but there’s a special sliver of defiance for the father that may have helped create them but certainly had not helped to raise them. His threats do not persuade her to behave - quite the opposite.
“You are nothing to us. If you want to find our mother, you can search for her yourself instead of bullying foals. Bet you would have already felt her bite if you hadn’t wasted so much time with us.”
