"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
12-03-2015, 06:00 PM (This post was last modified: 12-03-2015, 07:58 PM by prague.)
PRAGUE
a touch of wicked, pinch of risqué
It is no secret that Prague has a habit of performing a disappearing act from time to time.
She is also known for returning at the right moment, especially if the Jungle is at any unrest. Although many Queens have come and gone since her reign, she still wears a crown of loyalty, service, and dignity. She also had another habit of being drawn to Texas, it was a rather irritating tick to have if you asked her but word on the wind is that he is King, once again. They have far too many similarities - perhaps that's why they both love and hate one another. Often, Texas is the one to stumble onto the silver lioness but this time was slightly different, things were on his terms really but she was going mostly for pleasure but anyone who knew Prague knew that business was always on her mind. No title falls behind her name, no responsibilities but it matters not.
She listens to the healing waters rushing down from the Waterfall, remembering a short time when she and Texas would have bathed in it together - a time when their few children were born before a man did what all men do. Her reminiscing was over quickly though as she remembers why she has come and without saying a word she calls for him, her voice soft and alluring - Texas.
As much as he doesn't want to, she knows he will come.
there was something in the water, now that something's in me
i can't go back, but the reeds are growing out of my fingertips
Texas has only ever done what all men do; there is no shame in infidelity. He has never made promises – if only to be able to say that he has never broken them – and has never seen the need to. He is king again, and is so close to losing count of the crowns he has worn. This one has always been the most comfortable, the crown of the Falls, but is comes with less pleasant side effects than the others. He has history here, history that despite the passing time has never quite faded the way that he wants it to. His deaths echo especially loudly here, and when Sparrow squeals happily the sound is too much like those copper-haired children that he has tried to forget.
He sees Prague, but since he often does pays her no heed. She is not really there – it is just a flash of sunlight against the quartz in the granite falls.
She doesn’t usually speak though, and he turns back to where he had seen her. She is still there, silver and black, and she is looking directly at him. The tempest of emotions that begins to spiral is a familiar, though uncomfortable one. The knowledge that it will only last a while, that it will disappear as soon as she does, makes it easier to bear. And she always disappears.
“Did they finally kick you out of the Jungle?” He asks with a wry grin as he draws near, taking her in and finding that she has not changed at all. Texas, the immortal, has changed, and the grey that streaks his black mane and peppers his mahogany face have not always been there. Though his immortality had returned along with the magic in the waterfall, there are some things that cannot go backwards. “I suppose we could take you in as a refugee, though you’d have to work hard so I know you’re worth the effort.”
Along with the irritation, dislike, and annoyance, there has never been a shortage of desire in what the bay stallion feels for the grey mare. He does love her – though would quibble the differences between loving and being in love. They have never really been in love; there was no blossoming courtship and passionate vows in the Story of Texas and Prague. They had simply been present often and enough in each other’s lives that the inevitable happened.
Prague has three men in her lifetime that had been noteworthy in her life. Berlin, her childhood love - naive, innocent, true but destined to fail. Mathieu, her first - three children, still fell prey to infidelity and then death. As an older magician she realizes now that she could have changed some circumstances. And last, there was Texas - he was the maggot writhing, pushing itself into her heart. He was vile, brash, unwanted but somehow he got in the thickest layers of scar tissue, doubt and insecurity. Prague has seen so many things in her life, some that have been deduced to short term memory and discarded but after all this time she still remembers the first time she saw Texas.
She was in her third year of ruling, shortly after being raped for the first time, shortly after she murdered her rapist and the current Falls Queen made snide remarks about her deserving it. Prague's war song was not a smart one, it wasn't carefully thought out it was all passion when she approached Texas and a few select others to join her tirade. She remembers him being older, his face less gray and his heart more giving, the muscles not as tightly bound. She asked for help and he helped her, no judgment and without a second glance. She is not sure how all the things between then and now came to pass. The iron-fisted Queen she was, full of newfound rage and misguided power, he was the one to help; Texas has always, in his own way, helped her. She watches him as he looks, she knows she appears as a ghost in his eyes - sometimes even when he really believed she had been a ghost, it was her way of checking in. Prague was not heartless, she was actually really selfless behind all the practiced facades. Things were always peaceful when they were really together but that quietness drove the lioness mad.
She doesn't know how to simply be.
He mentions the Jungle but she knows that he can smell the hibiscus nectar on her skin, her summer coat even in the spring, the way the sun has bleached her gray skin to white. They both knew she would always be this way, even if she were to live elsewhere (which she has tried) that she could not be fully present anywhere else. Although I'm sure you would love to have a false sense of entitlement over me, being 'King'," she smiles a weak smile, it's unsure just as her heart is on the matters at hand, "that isn't the case and you know it." Prague is sure that no one would want to listen to two ancient people talk about times of old but she couldn't take the risk. Her honey colored eyes close and her lips whisper a chant, she starts a spinning vortex around them and provides a barrier for eyes, ears and other magicians (at least those not as skilled or old as she). Her eyes squint, her thick black lashes lifting her eyes back open as she watches both of their forelocks dance around - she shifts her weight to distribute her center of gravity. "As I'm sure you're aware, the Chamber has raped the Gates Queen and murdered a child, we have been asked to aide. I got the word that our allegiance is with the Gates but we, ourselves, are not unified in this decision. Please share with no one, if you do I will curse you," she says, though she knows that Texas would normally crack a joke at this, her tone is dry - serious - she could not risk her home or sisters, even for Texas. "It's a different time now, the Chamber has magician's and a Raven Queen, if they ally with the Valley my magic will be tested heavily against multiples," she speaks strongly, unafraid but realistically, "I cannot ask you to stand with us, that is not my place at this time in my life but I can do the right thing, for once, in my life," her voice wavers, she is showing a real emotion for the first time she can remember since a young yearling Queen. "I will do what is necessary of me to protect my family, my tribe; my life-" she stops, a large knot presents itself in her stomach and her throat. The gray cannot continue on with this conversation, she does not have the capability to let all guards diminish.
The vortex spirals upward and the view of them is once again clear, the dust settles and she reaches out to Texas, her honey eyes affectionately taking in his graying face. "What is new with the Falls, are you interested in an alliance with the Amazons?" she quickly becomes a iron-fist, a block by block her wall is rebuilt. Prague loved Texas greatly, she has never known what it means to be in love but when she loves it is for life. Poor unfortunate soul.
ooc: you can't hear any of the middle unless you're texas. you can see the tornado if you are a passerby and wanna jump in :)
there was something in the water, now that something's in me
i can't go back, but the reeds are growing out of my fingertips
He’s not really listening to her reply; Texas had asked only so he could soundlessly mime along to whatever witty retort Prague might have. (Despite his age, the bay stallion will never be known for his maturity). She’s still in the Jungle – she’ll always be in the Jungle – and it is (and will always be) her presence there keeps the lanky stallion permanently ill at ease with the Amazons. Prague is unpredictable and so the Jungle is unpredictable – fickle and wild in the way that only women are. Texas has always been equal parts enthralled and repelled, but his vocal dislike of the kingdom and the fact that Prague knows it is not entirely dislike are as much a part of him as his tail.
His dislike of magic is not at all feigned though, and he huffs irritably as Prague manipulates the world around them. There is nothing he can do to stop her, so he stands idly and watches the grey mare with a scowl from beneath his flying mane. He’s not naïve enough to think that there’s anything pleasant coming after the guard Prague has erected, and when she mentions the Gates and the Chamber he knows that the secrets to be guarded are political in nature.
Boring.
But he listens, unable to hide his glee at the dissension in the Amazonian ranks and not at all mollified by the seriousness in Prague’s voice. She has always been the stoic one (perhaps only because she has to make up for the cosmic balance that is Prague and Texas). It’s only when she mentions her magic being tested that the grin begins to slide away; her magic has always been omnipotent and to hear her question it is not something he has ever heard.
“You’re not going to die,” he says, as unable as Prague to show his emotions. His tone is dismissive, as though she’s said something entirely nonsensical that he is not even going to bother with. Texas refuses to think about her death. Too much of Texas is tied up in the existence of Prague for him to even begin to fathom the idea of losing her; he’d bring Beqanna itself down to avoid it, and will never admit such a thing aloud.
The tornado stops and the falling dust is a welcome distraction to unpleasant thoughts. He meets Prague’s eyes with a crooked smile, knowing that the changes since their last meeting are more than visible in his greying face. “Last I heard, we already have an alliance. ” He replies, quirking a brow as if to ask if anything has changed since
As much as Prague knew Texas disliked her magic, as much as she liked to truly only use it in times of need; practice was needed. Prague had entered the battlefields many times as a mare, tangible - a target. She had never been given a chance to enter as a magician but with the days passing as they often do, more and more magicians are joining from far away lands or being born. She has never tested or been tested in her abilities.
When he dismisses her concerns, a part of her feels insignificant and belittled but she knows just as well as if she were looking into a mirror; perhaps that's what they were. Texas and Prague went back and forth throughout the years, on and off again but they always show each other oneself in some way or another. She can hear her heart palpating more rapidly with every minute that's passing. When he tells her she isn't going to die, a small wave of relief washes over her but then she remembers Texas is not like her; he can't predict nor glimpse into the future. If the gray mare wasn't sure, how could he be such? Granted, it would be a long fight to the grave it was possible. Aren't all things? "I wish I could believe that," she says, quietly and softly; perhaps the most feminine and vulnerable she has been since her naive days of a child-Queen. A time before even Texas knew her. She moves toward Texas, her gray mare lips at his mane near his ears and provides herself with an opportunity to self-soothe. Her honey eyes close as she pushes her neck further down and drawing her body nearer. She rests her head on his withers, even if they were slightly bonier than the last time; she sighs knowing that he would not like what would come next. He may decline it but he would more likely just bitch about it.
"I need you to keep a part of me safe during this time," she says, although she has never done such a maneuver nor dreamed that it would be something she gave to another person. Although the Jungle was a great contender, it could not walk the earth, it could not care for her like her only resemblance of love. It will not care for her like a friend which was what they were before anything else. They felt very similar about one another and like the bay, she would not speak of such things unless death were eminent. "Will you take it?" she asks, her heartbeat surrounding them as her respirations continue on, she means her heart of course. "I will make it where you know if I am in danger," she whispers to him and rubs her cheek against the middle of his back, "or worse.""I am not politically in the know, the last I was in the Jungle Scorch allied with anyone and welcomed men in our home. With Lagertha, things are a tad different but if you say an alliance is what we have; I'm sure we do."
If she could ever stay in a moment, perhaps her life wouldn't be so difficult.
there was something in the water, now that something's in me
i can't go back, but the reeds are growing out of my fingertips
A world in which Prague does not exist is not a world that Texas would want to exist. He cannot say that, of course; he will not even admit it to himself. They are not sentimental creatures, and they never have been. To say they are mirrors is precise, and so when Prague steps forward, soft and vulnerable, Texas reacts without thought, pulling her closer to himself. He lays his dark neck across her silver mane, rememorizing the pale dapples that he has never forgotten. She is warm and smooth beneath him and she partially of the Jungle and mostly of herself, and if he closes his eyes he can almost remember what it was like in the before times, when they were young and not quite so weary of the world.
When she sighs Texas does not pull away, but he flicks his dark ears curiously. His first reaction is to ask if she’ll be leaving him with her left foreleg or her right, but he bites down the retort, respecting – for once – the gravity of the situation. She asks if he will keep it safe and he nods without fully understanding what she is asking; there is very little he would ever deny Prague, even if he might enjoy making her ask politely (and repeatedly). This though, he accepts without condition.
Though Texas has no intention of involving his kingdom in the coming war, he has given his few denizens the freedom to choose their allegiance on their own. He will do the same, of course, and has never intended to wait quietly in the Falls when the war between the Gates and the Chamber finally comes to a head. He has another reason now, but he knows that what Prague is giving him will be more accurate than his own senses, and he is quietly grateful.
While he might be reading too much into her words, Texas detects a hint of dislike for Scorch – whoever she was, presumably a queen – but is unable to determine what she thinks of Lagertha, who he knows is the current leader of the Jungle. He’s never met the mare – nor any of the current leaders of the other kingdoms – but is not overly concerned. For all his dislike of politics, he would much rather discussing their boring intricacies than the approach of what Prague fears will be her demise. “Perhaps you could check with her,” he says, nibbling gently along her spine, more for his own pleasure than in an attempt to tickle Prague (though he’ll no be displeased if she squeals a bit). “We won’t be requiring a permanent Jungle resident here anymore,” adds the bay stallion, “I’m sure that’ll sit better than our previous arrangement.” He’d never understood the former monarch’s requirement that a member of any allied kingdom dwell in the Falls, and now that he is making the decisions he’s more than happy to alter it.
