• Logout
  • 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


    Thread Rating:
    • 3 Vote(s) - 3.67 Average
    • 1
    • 2
    • 3
    • 4
    • 5
    [open]  Shadows for Skin [ANY]
    #11
    I can see through you, see your true colors
    Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
    In any other situation, the three of them doing something together would have been hilarious beyond belief. Somewhere in the numbness, he knows this should be amusing. A perfect opportunity for shameless flirting and banter. He would have enjoyed it once. Yet the feeling of disconnect continues and he can’t find the will or the want to do so. How could he enjoy anything when his son was at the bottom of the sea?

    It is the mention of Fyr and Wherewolf that brings a sudden sharpness back in his burning gaze. Wherewolf had always made it clear that if anything were to happen he would save his own skin first. There is little doubt that the ill-placed diplomat had taken one look at whatever was coming and taken to the sky on his mottled wings. He had always known what Wherewolf was, who he was. And yet the bitterness on his tongue remains knowing the stallion had probably left without a single care for those below. The children that didn’t stand a chance.

    Children like Obsidio. And Fyr.

    The pale jaguar spotted colt was a different story. There is a ripple of something beneath the fog when he catches Aela’s cerulean eye. A reminder that he was not the only one who had lost someone. There were other missing children beside his own, there were others that may have been lost to a watery grave. He gazes at her and remembers the boy who spoke to ghosts and set the world on fire. Remembers the understanding in the yellow eyes of one so young when he had set his mother’s remains to flame on a pyre. It was unlikely that Fyr had survived, despite his many talents. The determination in his Seneschal’s gaze (for how could he think of her as anything else when the world was normal yesterday?) to find her son no matter the outcome stirs something beneath the emptiness and when he nods to her, there is a promise there. And a sliver of hope though he cannot bare to catch it yet. To hold it close and believe.

    “And mine.” He says quietly at Cheri’s side. “If any survived… we will find them.” Fyr, Wherewolf, Revelrie, Obsidio… The Loessians that were important to Cheri. And Light. It was worrying that the Wisp had not appeared but for a fae creature designed to hover over water.. Surely his Companion was simply too far to call for. He would need to check the River again, a task for another day. For now… A crease appears on his smooth forehead as something else Aela had said comes to mind. “What are Baltians? Also... Where are we?” He had never heard such a term before but if whatever the Baltians were had caused the destruction of their world and the death of their children… In the hollow cavity that feels nothing… The snake stirs.


    obscene


    @Aela @Cheri
    [Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]
    #12

    Aela knew that the three of them coming together like this was absurd.

    She knew it in every fiber of her divine, and yet here she was, casting a skeptical glance towards the daughter of Yanhua and Amarine and the former Prince of the Pampas. She hadn’t known what to expect of what Cheri made of her proposal. The former Seneschal had even wondered if that might be the thing to make Obscene’s familiar scowl return.

    But no.

    The three of them stood there, contemplating Aela’s offer, and for a moment, the palomino wondered what her half-brother Reave might have thought of this whole situation. He would have found the irony in it, surely. He’d warned her over and over again that the future was an existence that expanded across numerous paths and there was never one straight path ahead. It would always twist and turn and twine in ways that would remain beyond mortal comprehension; there had to be so many improbabilities that led to a reality where Aela would willingly align herself with Obscene and Cheri, and yet here she was, contemplating if Reave would laugh at this circumstance.

    Her words - the mention of Wherewolf and Fyr - seem to elicit some response in the onyx-and-gold stallion that stands beside Cheri. There is a flicker of emotion behind his burning gaze, and though Aela doesn’t withdraw her calculating stare, she recognizes the promise that lights there. Good, she thinks. Something was stirring within the large brute, and that was something she could use. Something they could all use.

    ”I don’t know how many survived,” she tells him, truthful and blunt. At least in this search they were about to undertake, Aela would not (for once) lead Obscene astray. ”If any at all,” the striped mare warns them. ”But Wherewolf went missing before the South sank, and perhaps he meant only to save himself, but I don’t think he would have willingly left his son and mother in my care without intending to come back for them.”

    Atleast not Neverwhere.

    Wherewolf had enjoyed his retribution - murdering his Immortal mother over and over again - to so easily give that up.

    ”He disappeared shortly after you did,” she continued to explain, moving from them both. Her steps were slow, though, waiting for Cheri and Obscene to follow. Her pale lips pursed into a thin line. ”I think he has something to do with the calamity,” and then a gold ear flicked back towards them. ”And I will learn what he knows,” she added determinedly, wondering (again) if the pair behind her had any part to play in all this.

    "Baltians are what ... whatever came out of the sea calls themselves," Aela went on, concealing a shudder. She had a strong dislike of water - especially the ocean, thanks to her father. "And I don't know what this place is called besides Creepy." The Empath grew quiet again, and then checked to see if Cheri was actually able to keep pace. "Its what came after the South was swallowed. It stinks all the way to the Moutain and I'd rather be gone before low tide."

    @Cheri

    #13
    Trying not to, Cheri couldn’t help but let the smallest flicker of a grin break her composure as Obscene threw his support into the cause. “It only took one minor apocalyptic catastrophe, an accursed relative, the twisting turns of a power struggle, and a trip through alternate time in order for us to put our heads together.”

    Progress, she thought.

    The trio left presently, since there was no sense lingering among the surface ruins while the ones they were interested in lay beneath a literal ocean of water. Aela seemed to take the natural lead as guide, walking and talking as they left the green-covered stones behind. Cheri studied the quiet effigies, sometimes passing underneath their shadow or nearly tripping over them in the grass-carpeted soil. It was quiet here. Aela's voice seemed too loud, though she was speaking at a normal tone.

    “The Calamity…” Cheri whispered, keeping pace with the group and Aela’s story.

    It sounded wholly appropriate. The loss of her homeland, her Kingdom - a place rich in history as much as heritage. That certainly felt like an unmitigated disaster. The entire southern region…

    Gone in an instant.

    She’d had days to process the shock. Months to deny what she felt all along. Time had only served to remind her that breathing was guilty. Being alive was guilty. Every. Single. Step. Every one taken was a step that the fallen would never take again. It made her heart shrivel.

    She left a trail of dead and dying earth in her wake, little semi-crescent shapes of black soil that melted anything trying desperately to live aboveground. Eventually, like everything else, nature would govern itself and grow back - essentially erasing the damage. For now, the tracks stretched behind them long after the group of horses moved into another terrain.

    “Baltians, wreckage, and catastrophe involving the Mountain.” Cheri muttered plainly, “We’re definitely in the right place.”

    Obscene and Aela could interpret that as they liked. The where clicked into place for her, unlooping a bit of the timeline in the mage’s scruffy, dark head. She’d been reviving for months post-Calamity, and before that: something. Something involving the mountain had obviously occurred. Amarine had been gone for so, so long during the rejuvenation of the sun… which could only mean one thing.

    Years.
    She and Obscene had missed years.


    @Obscene
    #14
    I can see through you, see your true colors
    Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
    The black and gold Fae isn’t sure what to make of the information Aela shares with them as they begin to pick their way through broken stone. He’s not sure what to make of anything regarding this whole situation. The golden mare seems to read his thoughts regarding their former diplomat (a long running prank due to the rather severe nature of the dappled winged stallion), picking up the thread of his discontent and delivering even more confusing words that leave far more questions then answers. “Wherewolf has a son?” He quickly throws out, his red eyes glancing at Aela before shifting to Cheri and then straight ahead. Dark lips press tightly together feeling a familiar sensation of irritation rising through that aching hollowness that winds tightly through every fiber of his being.

    Wherewolf was a mystery in a lot of ways. He had never been truly put off by the abrasive nature of the man for he was a rather abrasive creature himself. He had only been vaguely aware of Neverwhere’s presence, his attention focused on much more pressing issues, but he knew that his mother was trapped as a child and that Wherewolf’s obsessions with her extended to much darker places then his own relationship with Tantalize. It was his job to know every single face that resided in the Pampas, willingly or not. So a mystery child of Wherewolf's in the Pampas didn't make any sense. And when he thinks of Tantalize... There is a flash of jaguar spots and the overwhelming scent of death and he exhales sharply, unwilling to remember more. It is what Aela says next that redirects his attention, enough to allow a scowl to break through his otherwise solemn appearance even as Cheri’s whisper pulls a pointed ear in her direction.

    “I’d hardly call one night a disappearing act.” He snaps sharply, feeling that irritation flickering in his chest again and the sliding response of the hungry beast within. Hungry… He was rather famished now that he thinks of it as his stomach rumbles with ferocity. His own hunger that has nothing to do with the serpent. He halts suddenly as the cogs turn in his head but the gnawing pain is too distracting for it to click into place. All he has to do is close his eyes and think and then spreading before them is a bounty of wildflowers, so similar to the ones that had once covered the Pampas. A new trick he had discovered by accident right before Gale had appeared that he attributed to his Faeness. There is a pointed look thrown at Cheri who still looks rather peaky despite the healing he had given her and wastes no time ripping at the flowers himself with blunted teeth, thinking all the while.

    As the wheels turn, he finds his irritation rising again. A flicker against the golden stars etched along his chest as he tries to recall what had happened last night. When it had all turned hazy. Why had Cheri looked like a skeleton? How could the South have fallen and he not even known about it? Even in a drunk haze… Surely the earth ripping itself apart would have been felt through every inch of land including that riverbank. How did they end up in this place that had only risen after the South had fallen?

    A sudden deadliness blazes in those glittering vermillion eyes as he raises his head slowly. Looking directly at the crystal magician before him. “When did the South fall Aela?” He asks, his voice eerily smooth and quiet despite the intensity blazing in Cheri’s direction.


    obscene

    @Aela @Cheri
    I forgot he had Feast Manifestation now so figured I'd try using it lol
    [Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]
    #15

    Perhaps it was because Aela was more familiar with Obscene that made her more aware of his emotions. The little palomino kept walking, kept herself moving, but the feelings wafting off the dark brute behind made her scowl as he did. His rising irritation became hers, and the only immediate solution that the Empath could think of was to keep a brisk pace and Cheri between them.

    Cheri, in a strange way, reminded her of Gale.

    The emotions and the feelings and memories were all there. Aela could sense them, she realized with an annoyed flick of her flaxen tail; maybe if she focused solely on the appaloosa mare, she might have been able to discern exactly what they were. Like her Cursed half-brother, they were hard to read, as if they were light refracting in different directions and Aela’s powers didn’t know which way to look.

    So the striped woman scowled again when Obscene asked yet another question.

    ”Do you need me to explain that as well?” Aela chimed sardonically back to the former Prince who had once enjoyed his fill of nectar as he had women. She slowed her measured steps and then glanced behind her, staring up at the red-eyed stallion rather indignantly. It remained there for a moment until the corner of her vision began to flash dark spots and the feeling of an unbidden memory coming on. Her finely-tipped ears pinned and Aela gave her elegant head a shake, pushing whatever Obscene had been remembering out and away from her.

    Aela had always prided herself on her cool nature, on her ability to keep calm even when her own emotions and those around her were not. She had spent a great deal of her youth trying to emulate Heartfire, who barely batted an eye at destruction or devastation. But this place… The Ruins often pushed Aela to the limits of her abilities. The ground was saturated with sadness; the very air was permeated with death and ruin. Multiple trips and repeated exposure to this place left her as something she very rarely (if ever) was.

    She was vulnerable.

    ”You were gone months,” Aela said and began to turn around so she could face Obscene, momentarily abandoning their trek towards where the River met the sea. If he was going to take that tone with her, she would give him an equally sharp reply. Her anger began to light in her blue eyes, and it flickered there in warning. A flame sparked nearby, and caught one of brightly-colored (and to Aela, out of place) flowers on fire. Months before the South sank,” she cast a deliberate look to Cheri as well, because though she didn’t know exactly when the Loessian Queen had disappeared, there could be no coincidence that first Obscene had gone and then Cheri; that now they had returned together. ”And it's been nearly a year now since then.”

    @Cheri

    #16
    Cheri was lost in her thoughts. They were worrisome questions about the whereabouts of her mentors - Oceane, Ledger, and Tarian. Concern grew inside of her like one of the many blossoms Obscene produced out of thin air, supplying the grounds and forested areas with a blanket of fresh, edible flowerbeds. Where had they gone? North? And what of her Uncle Nash and cousin Reave?

    The names and familiar faces were all present in her forethoughts, piling on top of one another like a jury holding court inside her headspace. Disappointment radiated off each one, reflecting Cheri’s failure as a Queen.

    She was so busy with her own guilt that at first, Aela and Obscene’s biting conversation sounded like bird chatter. The comments were hardly worth listening to; not until the Fae Prince asked when exactly had the South fallen.

    Then the tri-colored pegasus lifted her head, focusing on the thousand-yard-stare radiating in her direction. Obscene’s bloodred eyes bored holes into her skin, making Cheri shift uncomfortably under the weight of Aela’s answer.

    Nearly a year. Not as long as she’d calculated, but clearly enough time to lose everything they’d built.

    “And you haven’t seen hide or hair of anyone since then?” She purposefully avoided the mystery surrounding their untimely departure, uncomfortable with the idea of Aela knowing more than she already did.

    “Were there warning signs at least? Earthquakes, endless storms, something that would give the Southerners time to escape?” The crystal mare pushed for further information, sucking in her hollow cheeks.

    The entire time she kept her gaze centered on Aela, the one who’d lived through an ordeal neither she nor Obscene could fathom. Of the two, only Cheri remembered what pulled them away from this world - and what she remembered was hazy at best. Not exactly memories… more like daydreams. The past year or so stayed out of focus, coming back and forth like fringe waves on a deserted beach.

    The sea of Cheri’s splintered recollections would crash over her one second, only to recede the next, taking everything with them. The only surefire proof of it ever happening was Aela’s confirmation that they’d left in the first place, and Cheri’s deteriorated body. Obscene, for some unknown reason, seemed mostly unaffected.


    @Obscene this is crap but I wanted to keep things rolling D:
    #17
    I can see through you, see your true colors
    Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
    Aela’s snippy retort would have once made him smile, would have coaxed a sly and suggestive grin to his mouth as he pressed it to the golden velvet of her skin with the promise that she could explain better by showing him exactly how Wherewolf had come to be a father. Instead, he simply glances at her with annoyance and can think of nothing but death until she turns away. Once he would have given anything to hear her sigh in pleasure again, be it by his touch or causing chaos until she had brightened with satisfaction. It wasn’t until his chat with Skandar that he realized how foolish such a dream had been. That was what it had always been between them, a fantasy. It didn’t mean that he didn’t care about her, that he wouldn’t be by her side when and if she needed him. Aela had taught him much in many ways, had shown him things about himself that he had long denied. He owed her in that regard and despite his rather abrasive nature at times, he was loyal to a fault to those that had proven themselves worthy of it. Yet when he looks at her now, there is no pang of unrequited desire. There is no love lost. Not anymore.

    Her tone is not lost on him (and his irritation was not reserved for her) but she no longer has his attention. It’s all directed on Cheri who seems to shift beneath his unwavering stare as the weight of Aela’s words fall on both of them. Months. A year. All he can do is stare at her as she deflects away from the missing time stolen from him, avoiding him by questioning their guide and turning her jaded eyes to her. He doesn’t give her the release she desires as he continues to glare. To let his penetrating scrutiny run along the curve of her hollowed cheeks as she sucks in breath. There is one glaringly obvious question that hangs between them but he keeps his mouth firmly shut. In this they at least will agree, a conversation better held when its just the two of them. But there would be a reckoning and with the building anger flaring in the pit of his stomach, it wasn’t likely to be pretty. It feels better than the numbness though, this looming storm of fury. Eases it back just a little. 

    Obscene had always despised magic. It had been born of intense jealousy when he had realized how different he was compared to everyone else around him. Traitless, plain, a clean slate. His mother had told him of times before the Reckoning, back when she had once been a Queen. Magic had been a rarity in the Beqanna she had grown up in, a world where he would have flourished being exactly who he was from the start. That had changed though (even she had adapted with the wings that he can still vividly remember, black feathers tracing against his dark cheek) and now types like him, born without magic, were the anomalies of Beqanna. More than that, they were vulnerable. Weak. So he was driven to seek that which he detested and he had succeeded in spades. And yet even with the begrudging acceptance of the magic he held (the loathing to admit that at times he even enjoyed it), he had never truly trusted it. What exactly had Cheri done? Despite her rather frail appearance now, he had always known she was powerful. More powerful than most probably knew. What if she was the reason the South was gone? If Obsidio was dead because of her….

    He rips viciously at another flower if only to bite back the heated remarks rising on his tongue and then starts to move again, stalking past the two of them in the direction Aela had initially been headed towards. Not trusting himself to be idle next to Cheri a second longer in case he said or did something he would later regret.


    obscene


    @Aela @Cheri
    Someone's pouty  Big Grin
    [Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]
    #18

    Aela has always been a mare of diminutive size. She was light-boned with delicate features, inherited from a mother she barely knew. It’s always been an asset to her - she has made sure of it - because her slight stature meant that it was easy for others to dismiss the palomino as weak or frail. She wasn’t wildly colored as some Beqanna-born were; she wasn’t jewel-touched as Cheri was or born with blazing red eyes as Obscene had been. Despite a few golden stripes on her forelegs and hindquarters, there was really nothing outwardly unusual about Aela.

    Of the three horses gathered here (even despite Cheri’s fragile appearance), she was the smallest. And for a moment, Aela felt every day and week and month that had passed since she last saw the two. The lives lost, the terror, the fear of having a land sink beneath your hooves flickered behind her vibrant blue-eyed gaze as she looked between them. Cheri might be forgiven in Aela’s high-strung temper, because it wasn’t the appaloosa that had made her so angry.

    It was Obscene.

    He had vanished without a word. She hadn’t forgotten her conversation with Skandar where they had contemplated his murder. But Aela had said that he was more useful to them alive. She had allowed him to live and he had repaid her benevolence by disappearing. The least he owed her was an explanation of where he had gone, of what had made him leave behind the Pampas and the might of an illustrious Court that they had both been working towards.

    Becoming exasperated with their questions and lack of answers, she wanted to tell them both to shove off (or take a dip in the Bastian-infested waters). Aela had come to the Ruins time and time again searching for any information; had remained in the Common Lands to listen for the accounts and retellings from survivors for any part of the story she might have missed when she might have sought out the immediate safety of a territory like Pangea or Nerine. They wanted answers to what she knew without offering anything themselves. The long stare that the former Prince gives the last Loessian Queen makes Aela wonder, but it isn’t enough to draw conclusions from. The only thing that it reveals to the Empath is that there might be some discourse between the pair (but what was a lover’s quarrel in the grand scheme of things?)

    She turns away, moving ahead, and considers not saying anything.

    But they were her best chance of finding Fry. They were her best chance of understanding what had happened, and if Aela were to ever try to put her sunken Court back together, they were her best chance of doing that. ”The Gray,” she said from over her slender shoulder. ”The gray pegasus from Loess. If there is anyone who has scoured this place more than I have, it would be him.” Cheri must know Tarian, she thought. The only time they had spoken, he had asked after her. ”He was searching for his children, Lady Oceane and her family, and you, Queen Cheri.” She continued to explain while stepping forward, and finally placing a hoof over the burning flower that had been roused by her anger.

    "And no, there wasn't any warning." Aela added while her voice began to quiet. It had been one of the talents that her Pampas didn't have, there was no Seer in her Court who might have warned her of the Calamity. "There was only the shaking, and then the ocean came."

    The ocean came, and that was she most remembered. Being overcome by nature herself, and then getting swept up in the emotional tide that came after. She remembered what it was to feel a hundred hearts stop beating, the fear that clenched their last thoughts and memories as the sea claimed them. Spurred by those emotions, Aela glared suspiciously again to Cheri and the now snacking Obscene. "You know nothing? Wherever you where, you felt none of it? The earth shakes? They said you could hear the Sea roar all the way from the Isle to Pangea."

    @Cheri

    #19
    As they talked, Cheri could sense normalcy returning. It was the hatred in Obscene’s eyes, the anger in Aela’s tone, the disappointment in herself, and an overall feeling of despondency that confirmed it.

    Everything had changed.
    Nothing had changed.

    But what could Cheri do? Better yet, she pondered what Obscene or Aela would do in her case. Would they spill the truth and take a leap of faith, hoping to gain some understanding or gather fear instead? Would they be proud of themselves? If she’d been taken away from everything she loved by force, could she forgive the horse who’d done it?

    Her head began to pound. Cheri felt Obscene stomp past herself and Aela, quietly fuming. The urge to reach out and let her mouth skim over him as he passed was overwhelming, but she resisted. It was better to let him go quietly. She should be grateful that he didn’t push the issue like Aela was, though the small palomino had every right. It was still painful, though, to juxtapose this Obscene with the one she’d grown madly in love with. Even more painful to be the reason for his anger and disappointment. How could she ever touch him again?

    Sighing to herself, Cheri watched the pony smother out a flower with one hoof instead, secretly elated to hear that she’d come across Tarian in the months after The Calamity. Part of her wanted to ask exactly where Aela had last seen the pale gray stallion, but she wasn’t impatient enough to press anymore than she already had. In time, she reasoned. All in good time.

    For now, there were much larger concerns. Already the news of what transpired since their disappearance was settling in, making itself right at home without any indication that it would ever leave. The feeling left her empty, devoid of emotional reactions and incapable of either smiling or frowning for too long. A flicker of something might come and go, but Cheri forced each one down. If Obscene wanted to speak later and if Aela wanted to find her kin, it would be useless to break down.

    Dangerous, actually.

    She would have to keep the feeling of detachment for as long as she could manage, if Cheri ever wanted to try and fix her mistakes.

    “I woke up here, among the ruins. It was silent.” The dark mare spoke for herself. “Actually…”

    She paused, taking a few labored breaths as they continued to wander through the mostly open expanse of territory. It looked deceptively flat in every direction, except where the horizon was interrupted by the hazy outline of a mountain range, but Cheri’s body protested even the smallest hill they came across.

    “I’ve been resting where you found me for weeks, trying to regain some energy.” She divulged.

    Then, with an unexpected flare of determination, she decided: “Whatever happened, happened. What matters now is how we deal with it.”


    @Obscene
    #20
    Don't look back, nothing left to see
    I can feel you though, wake me from this dreamin
    Their tension runs in circles, cycling the blame back and forth between them. He grinds flower petals between his teeth with much more viciousness than needed but there is nowhere else to expel this restless energy except for on the two mares behind him. Two mares that were exceptionally powerful in their own rights. So in a rare moment of wisdom, he continues to push forward through the brittle ruins and bite off the heads of flowers he had manifested that suddenly taste like ash on his tongue.

    With his finely tipped ears still laced against his skull, he picks up pieces of the conversation behind him and snorts at the mention of “The Gray”. So Tarian the pegasus had survived and that was not surprising, being winged and all. Plus, prickly old coot that he was, he doubted the old guard would fall to something so trivial as the sea. He finally pauses in his massacre of flowers to turn back to them just as Aela stamps out her flames. “I’d be surprised if Oceane and that bear of hers weren’t holed up somewhere.” He finally says, keeping his blazing eyes trained on the golden Seneschal. “She’s a damn genie and isn’t he made for swimming?” He throws out before turning his back again before they can see the anger on his face. How easy for the magically blessed to survive. For those that weren't though... For those who had no wings or couldn't wish themselves away...

    Sauntering further away from them, he misses the rest of their quiet exchange and finds he prefers it that way. The hunger ebbs away and the numbness steals back in, settling back in those wide empty spaces within him. Perhaps one day it would ease, this emotionless void, but some of it settles in those nooks and crannies that even a broom wouldn’t be able to reach. Unable to pull the unyielding cobwebs out.

    His failure, the biggest of them all, was not something he would ever truly be able to forget.
    Or forgive himself for.

    If he was a man, he would be pressing his fingers to his temples and rubbing them with exasperation. Instead, all he can do is finally come to a standstill and close his eyes, his forehead crinkling with tension, as vivid dreams and confusing memories mingle and merge together until he can’t make sense where one starts and the other ends. He stands there until the others finally catch up to him. When they do, he exhales slowly and looks at them both. “We need somewhere to regroup, somewhere to rebuild.” Somewhere for the survivors that may still be drifting and lost to go, somewhere easy for them to be found for those that were searching as they were. “Aela we need a crash course in current political standings and what is open for the taking.” He finally says and there is nothing but cold calculation in the dark glittering depths of red. In this, at least, he can push everything else back and focus on a simple task. He and Aela had built something from nothing before (their ragtag band of misfits) and they would simply have to do it again, this time with Cheri regardless if she liked it or not.

    Speaking of the former Queen… He glances at her and registers how fragile she still is despite the initial dose of healing he had given. There is no doubt that she would need more as well as rest. There was still something he wanted to do, something he needed to see for himself, alone. Yet regardless of his pressing doubt about the crystal mare, he stubbornly could not leave her in such a vulnerable position. He still remembers her fury at Gale with his mother bleeding before them. He still remembers the hazy whisper of dreams that curl against his mind like fog, ones where she had pressed against his chest like she had always belonged there. “Aela, can you take Cheri somewhere safe to rest? There’s something I need to do but I’ll catch up to you.” He pauses for a moment before meeting the golden mare’s gaze. “I promise.” Words he had never said aloud lightly for they would know there couldn’t possible be a lie hidden within. 


    obscene

    @Aela @Cheri
    [Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)