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    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


    Here come the sun, little darling // Any
    #1



    Tornados from a butterfly's wing


    She could feel her body being torn apart. 

    Every fragile nerve and tendon screamed as they snapped, ragged ends burning until they to were consumed. In the end, there was only a tattered, bloody mess remaining of the butterfly mare, alone at the top of the cliffs she had unwisely gravitated towards. 

    She hadn't even had a chance to scream. 

    That came later. Her skin pricked and ached as she came aware of it again. She could only cry out as sensation returned, and blood flowed too and from the heart that has so recently begun to beat again. Breathing was its own struggle, until the pain of living subsided. Until she was left with a shaking (but intact) body, and a tear soaked face, and enough awareness to realize that death hadn't gripped her tightly enough to stick. 

    The same couldn't be said for the yellowed bones at her feet. Someone's ribcage, smoothed with time, lay half buried in alabaster sand. A little further along a collection of mismatched hooves and femurs. Bones, everywhere she looked. Some of them further along in the decomposition process than others. 

    This stretch of earth was macabre. She felt that after all of what she had just experienced, this ought be the last stone. The breaking point where she simply laid down and told Death to try again, and get it right this time. 

    What she didn't expect was the all encompassing Peace that seemed to be woven into the very fabric of this place. It seeped into her skin like summer sun. Like... And she blinked. It was not just like the sun, it was the sun. Hot and bright and perfect, the celestial body hung in the sky as if it had never gone. Tears sprung to her eyes again, but this time she didn't mind them. 

    It was alright to cry whenever you needed it, but it felt especially alright when you discovered that your sacrifices had been really truly made a difference. 

    She groaned, suddenly exhausted. Her joints ached and she felt hollow and overflowing all at once. Blinking her eyes clear again, a subtle motion drew her attention. A brilliant smudge on the landscape that grew clearer as she focused on it. 

    It resolved itself all at once, a shining thing that she knew quite suddenly wanted to be a fox. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, than it became truth. A fox, marbled black and white and blue-green bounded up to her, coming to rest perched on a convenient skull. 

    "Have some respect, please," she rebuked quietly, voice a thin croak on her dry throat. The fox obliged, surprisingly, and stepped daintily from the skull to sit beside it instead. Her stomach rolled unpleasantly. 

    The pony's neck curved to bite at her side, only to be met with a sharp kick from within. She froze. Examined again how she was feeling, really. It was the squirming, tight weight in her belly that confirmed what she'd already gathered. 

    She was pregnant. Very pregnant, and very far from home. How long had she been gone? It had felt like hours, but this was the evidence of months... Cat-like, the marble pelted fox twinned between her forelegs, warm as a miniature sun. A painful held breath released from deep within, and she fought down the rising anxiety, focusing instead on the little creature. 

    "I haven't got any idea where we are, do you?" She asked, plaintive. Her wings fluttered weakly above her, the shadow dancing across the sand, almost masking the nod the creature gave. She was too tired to be surprised. "Lead on, then. I'm ready to be home." To see who was left there. 

    The thought nearly froze her again. Cheri and Mem and Reave; what had happened to them? Her throat constricted, a sob threatening to well from her. The little fox wasn't waiting, though. Already it's bottle brush tail was blending into the white sand, and she knew she wouldn't get home quickly on her own. Desperation forced her forward, her little guide staying several lengths ahead, not stopping. It was a good thing. If she stopped, she didn't know if she'd be able to get going again. 

    Against all odds, she began to recognize the landscape as it changed around her. Trees that had been place markers before still stood, even if they were bare. The path underfoot was disturbed, but gradually she began to recognize that too. Only when the trees began to tower impossibly high though did she begin to relax. She was almost home.

    ...Amarine




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    #2



    She is the last to return home, but the only one Yanhua had been expecting. He knows better than to hope for a glimpse of that tell-tale flame between the foggy kingswood, and he knows he should be in the north by now, but he simply can’t go. Not without Amarine. Never without her. The rest of the forest dwellers are home now, tucked into their favorite places or out enjoying the return of the sun. Yanhua dwells where the light hardly breaks through the tree cover, places he finds that cause him to shine his brightest, and he waits for her. They are all waiting for her.

    Languid, the tall chestnut did his rounds and checked in with his loved ones. He met newcomers and old relations, listened to his daughters talk about the midsommar fair and everything they had planned with a gray, knowing smile. Spent his evenings with Borderline because she’d not really gotten better, not fully, and raised his sons with equal measures patience and pride. The days stretched into weeks.

    In the back of their minds she’s there: her presence is like any other ghost Yan comes across in his walks. They imagine the sound of her voice and what it would say in response to certain things. They all say how much they miss her, and Yanhua agrees deeply. This home is not the same without the butterfly mare. Her absence is a heavy weight that unbalances the scale.They are happy, but not as happy as they should be. They talk about her in the present tense, unlike how they talk about Lilli in the past, and so they hope.

    And like the sun returning, so eventually does Amarine.

    It was the cry of a flock of birds that caught Yan’s attention at first. “Someone’s approaching.” He’d thought absently, unable to see the way they took flight from so far below a canopy of evergreen tree limbs, but he pictured them lifting and swelling and dispersing all the same. He knew what they felt - fear - at having been disturbed, and took off in the direction of their now-quiet covey to intercept whoever might’ve been using the distant road into Taiga, not expecting to see her. Amarine had made her way back onto one of the main traveling routes from the common areas; she could’ve been anyone, any thing, and (stupidly) Yan had expected her to appear like Leilan had that day. Out of thin air.

    He’d been trotting, but the moment he broke a bend in the path and saw her there in the distance it felt like he was flying. His hooves hardly touched the ground; the distance between them vanished and he didn’t care if it was overwhelming: Yan was touching her, smelling her, murmuring senseless things as he pressed his head carefully against her own and felt tears of anguished relief rolling over the edges of his coppery cheeks. And then he was calm; for her he could empty his mind in a minute and just breath without a thought. For Amarine he would pour out everything, hollow himself so that she could fill the space left behind.

    He was shaking, but not from fear.

    YANHUA
    Image by Ani2ad


    @[Amarine]
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    #3



    Tornados from a butterfly's wing


    She was shaking too. 

    Every inch of her felt stretched and worn and barely held together, and now that home had found her again that seemed okay. She could fall apart, because she knew Yan would help her put the pieces back together again. He'd always had a knack for that. 

    With him holding her, she could begin piecing together what had happened. Beyond the numb shock that had let her walk this far, she could allow herself to understand. 

    "Yan, I-" she gasped after a moment, face still pressed against the reassuring solidness of his neck. "I died, I think. And Neverwhere, she's dead too, I saw her there. And the girls-" Her voice broke off in horror. "Yanhua, the girls followed me, please tell me there here, that they're okay, I couldn't send them home and we split up-" her chest drew tight with the shortness of her breath. The heavy weight in her belly rolled as if sensing her distress, making her groan. 

    Oh, she would never forgive herself if her misguided self sacrifice had instead gotten Cheri and Memorie killed instead. She pulled back, desperation flickering in the depths of her abstract eyes. 

    With a quiet brrr, the odd fox who'd brought her home leapt to perch on her shoulders. The monochrome creature nestled itself between her wings, the soft, warm little weight providing a focal point for her to draw into. A shuddering breath wracked her sides as the world slowed its frenzied pace around her. 

    "I've missed you so much," she realized aloud, the sun burnishing his features. She'd forgotten little details while the sun had hidden its face. The exact shade of his eyes, the way his whiskers curled beneath his chin. The half-lives they'd been living in the dark had taken so much from all of them, and she couldn't help but wonder if they'd ever get it all back.

    ...Amarine






    @[Yanhua]
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    #4



    Yanhua had been so stupid to think he could bear the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. He can see that now, so clearly. All this time he’d considered it a job or a duty to try and keep them together, when he should’ve just been there for them like he was now for Amarine. It’s so obvious that this is what he’s good at, and the much larger stallion takes to this job like a fish to water: naturally. Amarine was small and delicate, but not weak - he’d never thought that of her. Instead, she’s allowing him to see the vulnerable sides that could be mistaken for weakness, but he knows better. Sadness and loss are familiar ghosts for these two horses.

    “I missed you more than words can describe, clearly.” Yan couldn’t help but laugh. Be it from delirium, anxiety lifted, or a combination of both. “The girls are fine.” He told her quickly, rubbing the flat of his nose along the length of her short, lovely back. An easy feat for a stallion whose neck was nearly as long. “They’re back and -” He cut himself short.

    A noisy little creature made of fuzz leapt up onto Amarine’s back, taking Yan by surprise and cutting him off. He lifted his head, surprised, and looked down at it with a pair of wide, blue eyes. “That’s new.” He noted the marbled fox, but Ama seemed to almost relax under the weight of its bulk and so Yan let it go… for now.

    “- and Lilliana… I’ve been given word from Leilan that she’s missing. Enough so that he’s asked me to take up her position as Guardian.” The great horned chestnut spoke softly. “How overwhelming this must be for her.” He thought numbly, reaching out to untangle the snarls in her mane. The soft color looked so bright and alive he could hardly believe it; after so much death and terror, this moment felt surreal. Without explanation he knew that Amarine would understand what Lilli’s absence meant, and what this would mean for Yan in the months to come. The sun had returned and they’d all paid a heavy price for it.

    “Are you tired? Should we rest?” He nosed her here and there, mesmerized by the scent and sound of her body. She looked fine; a bit bigger actually, which caught his wayward attention. He’d forgotten that he should probably warn her about Taiga and its many changes, because he was focused on what she’d just told him about Neverwhere. Had Amarine truly died, then? Was her adopted mother in the afterlife with his dam, stuck in limbo or waiting for someone to rescue them? “Tell me what happened after seeing Nev.” He urged her gently. “The girls had a rough time of things for a while after coming home. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

    YANHUA
    Image by Ani2ad


    @[Amarine]
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    #5



    Tornados from a butterfly's wing


    The ragged edges of her breath smoothed after a few more moments. It was sinking in, that it was over. They had faced the night, and walked though to the other side more or less whole. It seemed impossible, but the sun was shining, and she was pressing her cheek to a very real, living and breathing Yanhua. 

    She sighed relieved, their family accounted for. Changed, maybe. In ways she was certain they'd only just began to discover, that would reveal themselves in the days (and nights) to come. For now though, it was enough to simply be alive. 

    It was too much to ask that they all be so lucky. The little mare pulled back just slightly, mouth a thin, sad line. "I'm so sorry, I... I didn't see her, but there wasn't much time." No time to look for lost relatives, or missing friends. She would have though. If she had known, she'd have searched every inch to find his mother. To spend more time with her own. Starlight,  but she hadn't even told Neverwhere that she was a grandmother. 

    She became aware of the gentle tugging on her hair, the straightening and detangling of a mane that had surely been neglected these past moons. Beauty lost in a fugue of exhaustion and stress and sorrow that had gone on far too long to be healthy. Her head dipped, giving him further access and giving her the opportunity to press her lips into the golden hair of his chest. Her North Star, her guiding light. 

    "I am, but what else is new?" She asked with weary amusement. Tired, that had been their common experience since the sun had sickened. Tired and scared, tired and angry, tired and hopeless. Every other emotion had been muted by the effort it took to feel. 

    Black and verdant wings, thin as dry leaves and ragged at their edges, fluttered with the tiniest of breezes. She didn't want the think about this. Didn't want to relive the darkness, her own death. It was not a cruel question. There was no menace in it, and she knew it. Still, she hesitated to reply. 

    "We split up on the mountain. I don't know where the girls went, but I was meant to be a distraction. It didn't work." She said at last. "Then we split again. A river or a cliff, and I went for the cliff. It... It felt most like home, and I missed home so much. I was already dead, I think? But it didn't matter. They arrived, an-and," she couldn't say it. Couldn't describe how it felt to be torn to pieces by a mob of teeth and claws. "And then I woke on the beach, with my friend here, and the sun was shining." 

    It sounded like a bad dream. One with a hopeful ending that she didn't quite believe in yet. Was it the sun's turn to shine indefinitely? Or would things go back to the way they had been, the sun and moon returning to their daily dance. She wasn't sure which she'd rather yet.

    ...Amarine





    @[Yanhua]
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    #6



    He accepted her unnecessary apology without words. Yanhua had wanted to take his anger out on Leilan when he’d gotten the news about Lilliana’s passing, as disappointed and frustrated as he’d been to realize that tragedy and war were about the only things that brought him and the Freyr together, but he’d resisted. Now that time had passed, Yanhua had been able to confront the reality of his dam’s loss while doing his best to move on from her absence. An impossible thing, though necessary for the sake of others.

    Amarine might’ve been one of the only few horses whose condolences actually mattered.

    He pulled her closer, eyes shut tight against the truth, and then released his grip when her personal story began. The girls had followed her out of Taiga, no doubt about it. Yan knew how stubborn and apt to adventure both Memorie and Cheri were. That part surprised him very little. What did shock him was the idea that Memorie and Cheri would be so willing to throw themselves into danger without a thought - and he remembers seeing them as ghosts for the first time since returning home - fully understanding now just what they’d been through.

    But Amarine wasn’t finished. She told him about choosing to stick to the cliffs, that place that felt most like home to her, and Yanhua could feel his heart ache for her and her loss. She’d given everything up to be here with him in Taiga and though he’d been aware of that, he’d somehow hoped that over the years she might’ve found a deeper comfort in these woods than the loneliness she’d been left to carry when Neverwhere had disappeared as well. He doesn’t blame her though; how could he? They’d been friends before lovers, before becoming parents. Yanhua took that into account any time he felt like he’d fallen short of being a good spouse to Amarine.

    “I’m so sorry Amarine, so sorry.” He parroted back to her, careful with the horns on top of his head as he lifted his face to press his cheek into the side of her own. Sorry that she’d gone through something horrible. Sorry that he hadn’t been there for her, or for their daughters. For a moment he lets the silent tranquility of the afternoon seep into their reality. He just stands and does nothing but stroke her cheek.

    “It’s over now.” He whispered to her and her companion after a while. “Let's go home.”

    Wherever that home might be.

    YANHUA
    Image by Ani2ad


    @[Amarine]
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