Ascending to the Stars as one | The Great Accord

[Obscene]

I can see through you, see your true colors
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me

For the first time in a long time, he steps out of the Pampas on kingdom business. Alone.

He had left the door open to the golden Seneschal if she wished to attend but he had not seen her this morning and so he made the trek through the flower fields into the winding canyons with only Light for company. His promise to her to protect her from Nashua still stood, regardless if everything else had changed. The Wisp hides itself beneath the long lanky threads of black and gold, a faint glow appearing beneath his mane where it rests. The sun was still beginning to crest over the horizon and he pauses for a moment, stopping just where that invisible border separates what’s his from what’s theirs.

He takes a moment to glance at the frozen dew clinging to the tips of petals. He catches rays of orange and blue and pink swirling in the dawn (and he thinks of Skandar as he takes in those colors). And naturally his thoughts turn to Aela and his gaze darkens as every inch of himself becomes something harder. Sharper. There has been a bitter taste on his tongue ever since he had truly seen himself the way she did. All those restrictions, all those barriers. And as much as he wished he could say he would never hold her back, he couldn’t lie to her. By choice or by tongue. Because he could see a day when she crossed a line he couldn’t follow. The star-studded skinwalker was made of stuff of dreams and he can no longer ignore what’s been so clear all along. How perfect he was for an endless visionary. And he finally admits that he still cares for them both. He cares for the Pampas and all those within it more than he’s ever cared about anything. He’s still not sure why.

He looks at the rising sun, brilliant like the mare he has left behind, and thinks of Revelrie, of his son (refusing to think of the light going out of a pair of small red eyes), of Wherewolf and the spotted boy Fyr. He thinks of Sickle and her questionable father. He thinks of the Queens he’s about to meet. He thinks of his unicorn sister and the jaguar mare in the volcanic jungle. He thinks of the Pampas and suddenly has a vision of the idyllic beauty burned to nothing but cinders and ash. He thinks he can taste soot in the air. 

Ash. Ash.

The serpent within is calm, calmer than usual. He had lost a few more days after the birth of his son but whatever had happened in that time had been enough to keep the creature quiet for a moment. Ever since his talk with Aela, ever since he had touched the surface of unyielding grief, he had seemed to be permanently covered in a layer of scales that just refused to fade. They ran down his spine, scattered across his haunches like the constellation glittering across his chest, wrapped around his sturdy limbs. He never noticed, he hadn’t cared.

Everything he touches turns to ash.
What was the point of turning away from destiny anymore?

He adjusts his crown. He schools his mask into the perfect mixture of boredom and indifference. And then he steps into Loess, the cruel Prince in all his glory. He seems a little extra sharp around his edges but for all the world he is still the same insensitive bastard he has always been.

The one-eyed grizzled stallion finds him first. Ledger, he recalls. The golden stallion greets him politely but he doesn’t miss the wariness in that single eye. For his part he drawls a quick greeting and then falls into step with the other. It is quiet for a moment and then the other speaks. “You’re from Tephra aren’t you?” Ask’s the shifter pleasantly and the Dark Fae says nothing, focusing on not letting his jaw visibly tighten. “I knew your father, served for him once. Offspring.” The Fae’s red eyes blaze for a moment too as a few more scales scatter across his ebony skin. He still says nothing. Ledger is quiet for a moment, perhaps considering the slick patterns rippling across his pelt. “He was a good Overseer. He would be proud of you, I think.” He finally offers quietly and before Obscene can look at him, the stallion picks up his pace and rounds a corner.

He pauses for a moment, staring at the place Ledger had once been. Unaware that the shifter had only spoken to him words that he had once hoped to hear himself. Thinking maybe the Prince could use those words as well. His breath mists around him and he inhales sharply, letting the barbs of early winter cut into his lungs and wake him up. He is still just as indifferent when he finally finds the others. A nod is all he offers to the two Queens on the cliff (and a familiar stallion hanging to the back) as he leans into the shade towards the back of where this little ensemble would happen. Quiet, watchful, waiting for destiny.

obscene