"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
Sadness fills her as she crosses the border. After the events of the past year, she’d thought she’d never see this place again, that she’d never, ever come home. It’s wonderful to see it again, to see the new growth that Straia had spoken of springing up all over. But she can’t stay. She has to go back.
This will truly be the last time she sees the Gates. Unless the Chamber decides to be benevolent, but that is unlikely. This will be the last time she ever sees her home.
When she reaches the garden at the centre of the kingdom (still littered with the ashes of the Mother Tree) she stops and calls out. The shadow raven on her shoulder digs its claws in - a little reminder of what she came here to do.
She hopes they understand, but she doesn’t think they will, not completely. She’d been all but useless as queen and had failed to build up their defences, had failed to protect them. It’s the least she can do to make such a deal, to give up her freedom for their safety and to make up for her deficiencies.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
For all intents and purposes, the timing was good luck. The buckskin stallion had just been preparing to leave for the Chamber on a mission when he sees the mare with the raven digging into her shoulder. He pauses for a second, wondering if he should let the unknown other delay his trip—after all, time was truly of the essence when it came to this. But, instinct eventually won out. Altering his course, Magnus moved toward the patchwork mare, his gold-flecked eyes curious, if not a little wary. All of the residents of the Gates had good reason to be wary lately, and he had never had the good graces of meeting the Queen.
“Hello there,” he said when he is within several feet of her, his voice smoke and ash, the rust having long dissolved from the decades of disuse. There is something sad about the way she holds herself—something that speaks to defeat and Magnus cannot help but pick it up. If only he knew the way she was feeling; there were few who could empathize to the depth and degree of he. He knew just how heavy the head was that carried the crown. More so, he knew the marrow-deep ache that came from disappointing a kingdom.
Not that he would agree with her assessment of her failure.
After a few moments of silence, he takes another step forward, caution bleeding away, “My name is Magnus.” The say that a name holds great power, but for him, such power often is just sand in the wind. A name is only powerful so long as people remember it. He didn’t mind it though. Taking another step, the stallion dipped his head slightly, unsure of how to proceed. “Are you okay?” She didn’t look like she was.
the ghost of a girl that i want to be mostthe shell of a girl i used to know well
Mast had told her everything. He’d told her about the Mother Tree going up in flames and receding to ashes, about the Chamber raiding their homeland, about Fiasko following their orders to preserve her kingdom. Camelia’s heart aches for all that has happened (and she can’t help wondering if she’s arrived at just the right time). She cannot help admiring her adopted sister for her bravery, just as she admires Mast for still remaining the face of the Gates during the dark times. They’re both doing better than she did as the previous queen of the Gates.
The dunskin is standing in the middle of the ashy garden when she hears the sound of steps sifting through the powered leftover grass. Blinking away quiet tears from her gentle eyes, Camelia turns. The sight of her sister (older, definitely, with the swaying belly of a mare having just given birth, and with a raven perched on her shoulder) sends a choked gasp out of the once-queen. Despite Fiasko and Camelia never having a ton of meaningful interaction, Finnley and Kaelie instilled a deep-set belief that family is important. Her heatt floods with relief and mingled nostalgia.
Camelia is just about to run toward her sister when a stallion approaches. She hasn’t been in the Gates long enough to know any of the newcomers’ names, but his comfort within the kingdom seems to reassure Camelia that he knows this place well. Almost as well as her. Nonetheless, the dunskin steps quickly forward to wrap her sister in an embrace.
“Fiasko!” she says, her gentle brown eyes brimming with relief. “Mast told me everything… I’m so proud of you.” She forces away the feeling of guilt rising in her chest. Just when leadership had been hard for her, Camelia had ditched the kingdom and left it in Mast and Fiasko’s stead. She’s thankful they are doing much more than she ever did, but part of her is still sad she couldn’t carry the crown in the manner that they do or that her parents did.
FAMILIAR BREATH OF MY OLD LIES CHANGED THE COLOR IN MY EYES
She's been gone far longer than expected. Her stay had needed to be prolonged, to rest, to gather her children. She has nothing but kind feelings towards the Deserts, they had been so very gracious at their arrival. Her youngest child's Grand-mama, Yael, had been so very welcoming, she would never forget it. It was something special, the simplest of gifts to relay her sons name to him, to mark him as her family. Wichita had not known much kindness in her life, she would cherish these little things.
She had to return though, the Desert dunes were no place for her, and she greatly missed the Gates. Wichita had not witnessed the devastation the Chamber wrought upon their lands, Tioga had shoved them all to safety before they had a chance. Of what had happened she had only seen and smelled the smoke, had been told that Gryffen and the Chamber was behind it. She was ashamed truly, but what would she have done in defense? Really her daughter had done what was best for them, all of them. The children were safe, that was a blessing, it was more than she could hope for. Surely there was something good they had done in that. Even if most of the little ones were her own.
She leads them this time, Tioga still close to her side, little Rucker clinging as all new foals do. Now she had two deaf children to care for, and she felt so very bad she could not give them her own hearing. She would gladly part with it for them. The others follow not far behind, it is quite the procession she leads, and it is sad that they must return to something so devastating. She makes for the Mother Tree only to find the ruin that was left in its place, not only that but the worn form of her Queen. A shadowy raven digging into her pelt, causing both fear and anger to clutch at Wichita's heart. "Oh my word, Fiasko, what's happen?"
I've heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord but you don't really care for music do you?
He hated himself for not going after her.
He hated that she had been forced to sacrifice herself to save them all. More than anything he hated that there was nothing he could have done about it. He knew that much was true, though it pained him to admit it. The Chamber had brought everything short of a magician with them, and it was only through the grace of God that his kingdom hadn’t been burned completely to the ground. But that was just a hollow victory- in addition to losing their Mother Tree, they’d lost their Queen. She was worth more than any tree ever could be.
He is startled to find her scent on the breeze. He’d almost given up seeing her again, at least for now and definitely not here. The stallion fully expected there to be a fight to get her back, and for the moment they were in no position to offer such a thing. So it was a surprise that she was here, back in their home. Perhaps they had let her go- Straia, despite being the Queen who’d given the order to destroy, seemed to have some sort of conscience within her. A questionable one, but a conscience nonetheless. Or perhaps it was a trick from the Chamber- send the Queen in and annihilate the Gates members when they came to investigate. Whatever the case was he made his way to her, his steps light and quick. He hated how on guard he was, but that was a new habit he’d acquired since the raid. Watching and tense, always. Finally he spotted her, and his eyes softened slightly. She was alive, but their was a hollow look in her eyes that made his stomach clench. They hadn’t just stolen her from her home- they’d stolen her soul as well. The gray came to rest beside Camelia, his lips finding her shoulder by way of greeting. Of course he’d told her what had happened. He nodded to Magnus and Wichita by way of greeting before turning his attention fully to his former Queen. “Fi. I’m so sorry. Are you well?” He felt stupid even asking such a question, but he didn’t know what else to say. He wanted more than anything to apologize for failing her. For failing them all.
10-20-2015, 02:58 AM (This post was last modified: 10-20-2015, 02:58 AM by Fiasko.)
fiasko
It doesn’t take them long to find her.
The first is a stranger, a buckskin stallion that she’s never seen, but moves through the kingdom like it’s home. “Hello. My name is Fiasko.” He seems kind, concerned, and asks if she’s ok. She smiles sadly. She’s not ok. But there’s nothing he can do, there’s nothing any of them can do. “I … I’ll be fine.”
The second is Camelia. A few tears trickle down her cheek as she returns her sister’s embrace. She’s never known the dun mare well, but she’s family and it’s wonderful to see her again, even though she knows it will be painfully short. “Thank you Camelia, thank you.” It’s a tiny comfort to hear that, though she doesn’t truly believe it. She’s failed the kingdom, dropped the torch that Camelia passed on to her and Mast. And there’s no way she can fix it.
The third to arrive is Wichita. She smiles sadly to see her old friend, noting to see the little boy clinging to her side. Such a sweet little thing. It only drives home the differences in her own, strange red-eyed son. She doesn’t answer the mare’s question yet though. She’s waiting for Mast. She owes him the truth at least, and she might not have the strength to tell the story more than once.
And then finally he’s there. He slips in beside Camelia, watching Fi with eyes full of concern and asks if she’s well. It hurts to see all that worry there and to know that she’s the one causing it. It hurts more that she’s only going to add to it.
She opens her mouth to speak and falters, but the raven digs in its claws, urging her onward. “I … I’ve come to tell you that I’ve made a deal with Queen Straia. I will stay in the Chamber, and in return they will leave the Gates alone.” She pauses, giving them time to let it settle in. They won’t like it, but it’s already done. “You will be safe, and I will be safe there, so long as I do not try to escape, and so long as no one comes after me.” She thinks of poor Nadyah, who’d come crashing in to the gory scene of her son’s birth. The little mare had intended well, but no one can help her. She’s made her bed and she will lie in it. “I know you will not like this decision. But I’ve done this for you, for the Gates, and I ask you to respect that.” She inhales deeply, fighting tears. “I … I think you should find someone to take my place. To help you move on.”
The world is a silent place, but it is not a dull one.
Rucker is learning to read lips but mostly he amuses himself with exploration. He clings to his mother's side and she indulges him in his antics. Everything fascinates him. It is all devoid of a soundtrack but as he has known nothing else, it doesn't bother him. Sometimes he can feel the shifting vibrations in his feet. He knows they mean something but he doesn't always know what. At least, not yet.
He is unremarkable, a black colt with white stockings and a white blaze. The only thing that stands out about him is the blue of his eyes and the gold strands in his mane. His grandmother gave them to him at his birth. He thinks of her fondly, tossing his little head and making a nickering sound he will not hear.
He was born in the Desert and he had thought he would always live there, but today his mother has gathered him and Tioga up and led them to this new place. He wished he knew the name. It was beautiful, all flowers and sunshine and softness where the deserts were itchy and dry. He collapsed to the ground and rolled with a grin.
After awhile he looked 'round for his mother and noticed that she was in a small group of horses. Two yellow brown ones, which is a color he hasn't seen yet. But it is the mare with the sad face who captures his attention. Perking his ears he trots forward clumsily and nuzzles her chest. He is a tiny thing, still small despite the half a year of life he has lived. He looks up at the Queen with bright blue eyes in a childishly sympathetic face, and wonders if he could make her smile.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
Magnus is silent as the other residents pour forth, not recognizing any minus the shifter-King. He had never felt so alienated in Heaven, had never felt more a stranger in his own home as he takes a step back, recognizing the scarred mare as their Queen. Magnus supposes this makes his journey to the Chamber moot, and he is grateful that he chose the diversion. He cannot decide whether he is glad to be stripped of the need to journey to his old home or whether he was disappointed to lose the chance for a fight.
Tucking away the conflict to think on another time, he waits patiently as they gather and fuss over Fiasko, wondering if it would be wiser to perhaps give them privacy. Despite his decades of life here, this was clearly an intimate gathering—and he was not sure he would be welcome. Just as he decides to excuse himself, Fiasko speaks up again, and his gold-flecked eyes begin to burn with intensity, his gut twisting.
“There has to be another way,” he growls suddenly, fully aware that his opinion was most likely not needed. “The Chamber won’t be sated with keeping a mare who is no longer Queen, and rolling over and giving up is not setting the kingdom up to be protected in the future.” It was setting an example that they were weak—that they would willingly give up their monarchs at the slightest inclination of pressure.
His stomach sours on the idea as the warrior in him roars angrily. He shakes his head at her request to be respected, clenching his teeth. It was not in Magnus’ nature to actively rebel against a monarch’s decision but he couldn’t help himself. Not sure how to respond without spewing forth angrily, he fell silent, eyes burning as they turn to Mast, hoping that the King would not simply accept this without a fight.
FAMILIAR BREATH OF MY OLD LIES CHANGED THE COLOR IN MY EYES
Wichita can hardly contain herself, listening carefully as everyone speaks. The person she is most interest in hearing is her friend, their Queen, Fiasko. She can not for one second, fathom how anyone could be well when held captive. Even a someone willing.
It's nothing short of admirable though, she must admit. She heard Fiasko had bravely surrendered. That she had willingly given herself up for the good of the kingdom. There was nothing to be said against that, but stay? Why did they want her to stay? To show them who was boss? To torture her, rape her, make her do horrible things?
The little silver black trembles, whether it is from fear, or anger is uncertain. All the same, it is a hint of the coming outburst. They had set the country girl on fire, thoughts of her past flooding her mind. She had done so well to repress those memories too.
It's not very ladylike, but it is right on cue for the little, southern belle. "Stay there?! No. NO. Ya can't stay there. What'll they do ta ya?" Her chocolate brown eyes grow wide as she speaks. Soon they are pooling with tears, seconds away from mussing up her pretty face. "No" The words are choked and broken as she fights her emotions. "Mast, tell her not ta go. She don't have ta righ' ? Right?" Pleading for someone to make the words untrue, turning first to the King.
Before he can even give her an answer, she shakily reaches for her friend, overcome with deep sadness. She wants nothing more than to reach out, lay her head and neck across the painted mare. The black shadow-bird looks on with a menacing stare, keeping her from making contact where she intends. She settles instead for a cheek-to-cheek embrace, hoping that it would not be the last. "Fi-Fiasko, this is Rucker." she sniffles into the other's ear. "Ain't he purdy?"
I've heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord but you don't really care for music do you?
Come hell or high water, they would not leave her. Not now, not ever.
Not after she’d given herself so readily in an effort to stop the Chambers unprovoked onslaught. That wretched kingdom had taken enough from her. Their sufferings paled in comparison to hers. They may have lost a tree, but the look in her eyes said she had lost so much more.
As long as he was breathing, it wouldn’t happen again.
One by one they came to her side, concern etched on each and every face. Even those who didn’t know her before came. Mast found Magnus’ presence a steady anchor to their emotions. Though the buckskin may not have known her as a queen, he clearly had her best interests at heart, and that was what mattered. But they were stuck, forced between a rock and a hard place. He wanted very much to throw caution to the wind and hide her in the forest. But there was the matter of the raven clinging to her withers- the gray king knew it would fly off immediately, thus bringing the Chamber and her minions back to their doorstep. If ever there was a time he needed mind reading, it was surely now. But unfortunately he was just a simple horse, and deer shifting wouldn’t be of much use in this situation. The others were roaring for battle, and though he agreed with them wholeheartedly, they had to play their cards just so. Finally he swallowed hard, his deep brown eyes finding Fiasko’s. He tried to convey a message that way, that what he was going to say next was a lie. “We must respect Fiasko’s decision.” he said, his voice flat with the bitter taste of his lie. “We don’t have to like it, but we must respect it. I repeat; we don‘t have to like it.” he said cryptically. He hoped, it saying that they didn’t have to like it that they would be able to read between the lines. Nor did he outright forbid them to do anything. One by one he met all of their gazes, trying to convey the same thing to them as he’d done to Fiasko. He was hoping his members respected and trusted him enough to know he would never leave one of their own to the Chamber. But still he felt uneasy even saying that she could go, and he hoped that too would help convince the others that though he said she could go, he would not stand for it.
He would not let them be playthings for the school yard bullies anymore.
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