"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
After relinquishing Sette for a year to the Valley, Lagertha is loathe to let her little blue girl (who, let’s face it, is all grown up now) go anywhere else that she would consider dangerous. For now. Give her a week or a month or two and the overprotectiveness is sure to fade. The real reason is that she doesn’t want Sette to come face-to-face with Gryffen yet. Just in case her father is still around… the creepy white bastard.
So in light of her request, Lagertha agrees that she can go to the Gates with her and Rhy - and for Rhy to bring her along to meet her after she visits the Chamber with Prague. Luckily, the distance from the Chamber to the Gates isn’t all that bad, so she takes it the normal way, on foot. Damn, it feels good to run. She skirts the edge of the Falls and passes by the Field, then between two small mountains and finds the small entrance to the Kingdom. They’re waiting for her, and she offers a nicker to Sette and Rhy, touching her nose to Sette’s shoulder before settling into to her left. She’s never met the King of the Gates, but there is one stallion in particular she’d like to lay eyes on again. And then to give him a very brief piece of her mind.
She calls out to the members of the Gates, curious to just who exactly they’ll be aiding.
The time was drawing near. He could feel it in the heat of the summer winds, hear it whispering through the heavy boughs of the oak trees. Even the deer were more skittish than usual, preferring to linger in the depths of the forest rather than lounging about in the clearings. The gray king himself was more on guard, more serious an brooding than he had ever been in his life. He had, hopefully, done all that he could do, but there was always that seed of doubt struggling to take root in the back of his mind. All that was left was the finalization of plans and drawing the proverbial line in the sand.
The Gates had been quiet as of late, and Mast could only think that it was the calm before the storm. Of course their numbers were still swelling, but this was a different quiet. There was little laughter to be heard, though there were plenty of serious voices. What laughter could be hear was tense and crisp, as if the one laughing was afraid to break the somber mood. Because of the quiet it wasn’t hard for him to hear the mares call, causing him to raise his head sharply and push his fine muzzle into the wind. If he guessed correctly, this was a visit he had been waiting on. So without further ado he cantered to the kingdoms border, the ever-present antlers atop his gray head. It doesn’t take him long to see the visiting party, so he slows himself to a walk. “Lagertha, it’s a pleasure.” he said, his voice genuine and warm. Dipping his head he greeted the other amazons in turn. “Welcome to the Gates. I’m Mast. What can we do for you ladies?” he asked, though it was perfunctory. He knew (or at least had a good guess) as to why they were here. And he could only wait patiently and hope that they brought good news.
It isn't her protectiveness I mind. It's her overprotectiveness that annoys me. She was her firm and blunt self when she told me I couldn't join her in the Chamber and I can't say I was entirely gracious about her decision. There might be one or two trees a little worse for wear around our clearing. I just spent a year in the Valley! Everyone knows Straia and Gallows are itching for war. Does she think I'm going to hide, or run?
I am exasperated and amused and itching to prove myself. I just want my mother to know that I'm growing up. Well, know and acknowledge out loud. Still, I follow obediently behind Rhy as we make our way to the gates to wait for Lagertha. I wonder what my mother's best friend is thinking, but I find I don't have the courage to ask.
We arrive at the Gates first, and I glance curiously around. It's been over a year since I've been here. It seems busy but not overly full of soldier types. It isn't a secret that I supported the Chamber in their bid for our alliance, but I don't hold any sort of grudge against this place. I just want what's best for the Amazons.
Finally, mother arrives. I give her a disgruntled snort as she approaches, which is not entirely mature, I know. It can be hard having the Khaleesi for your mother. Obedience for one's monarch and mother can be a bit much at times. Although I am sure she has sensed my quiet rebellion, she ignores it, touching my shoulder in greeting. A reluctant grin crosses my features and I nudge her in return.
"Mother."
I bite back a decidedly snarky comment about the lack of deadly wounds she is sporting, and watch with interest as the Gates King answers my mother's call. I whicker a hello. He is impressive (for a male), with his gray antlers towering above his head. It is easy to tell that he will be a true ally in a fight. A colt scampers about in the distance. I frown. It's the little ones and the elderly that I worry about.
Still, I am certain that the others will think of such things, and I settle in to wait. War is coming whether we are prepared or not.
She has always served the Jungle, and always will. But right now, she isn’t sure how she feels about it. Which truthfully, was exactly how she felt under so much of Scorch’s rule as well. And sometimes the thought slips into her head, unbidden (but perhaps not as unwanted as it should be): why do I serve the Jungle?”
The problem of course with that question is it brought to a head too many issues, the war going on inside Rhy’s own brain. Part of her is glad to see the Amazons finally living up to their title as warrior women. They have sat for so long, done so very little. And she’s glad too that they’ve chosen the Gates, if only because of either side of her family to choose, the Gates needs more help than the Chamber
But here’s the thing, the part that scares her: she sort of wishes they had sided with the Chamber. There’s a terrible part of her, something burned into her heart or her soul from the end of the world, from death, from everything she is and everything she could be, that simply wanted to show the world just want they could do.
It’s probably good that Sette doesn’t ask what’s going on in her head. Rhy couldn’t begin to answer.
It’s also good that Rhy is a well practiced diplomat. Her face is nothing but pleasant and happy, even her eyes. She can hide her own mind well enough. Though in truth, Rhy doesn’t know why she’s here. There’s nothing for her to do in this meeting beside listen about a war she won’t be fighting in. Why? Not anything against the Gates, but simply because someone has to protect the Jungle. And really, who better than her? She could stop any intruders with one quick blast of lighting, and hell, they’d never even see her.
Mast is quick to join them, and she figures she may as well keep the conversation rolling, if nothing else. That was about all she could do in this particular meeting. She nods her head at Mast, remembering Kaelie talking about the boy. Though she doesn’t think that Mast ever knew that Rhy and Kaelie were cousins, and now doesn’t really seem like the time to bring up her missing cousin. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Mast. We’re here to let you know that the Sisters would like to aid the Gates against the Chamber.” And then her gaze turns to Lagertha, figuring the Khaleesi could add whatever details she wanted.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
He had not expected them to come. He had hoped they would—hope buried in a recess of his mind that he had not fully trusted. He had hoped they would see the righteousness of their plight; would see that all the Gates wanted was justice whereas the Chamber wanted chaos. The jungle of his mother may not have wanted to pursue justice over power, but he had hoped that the jungle of today would. He had to hope.
So he almost did not believe his eyes when he saw them crest the hill. He could not dare to trust to himself until he drew closer, his eagle wings tucked into his sides and his gold-flecked eyes burning as he came to a quiet stop near the group. He did not introduce himself, not at first, electing instead to just listen to the conversation, his heart thudding against his ribs when Rhy finally said the purpose of the visit.
His gaze swung to the Queen’s, caught and it and held. “Thank you, Lagertha.” His gaze then shifted to meet that of Sette (who looks vaguely familiar) and then to Rhy. The last time he had seen the mare, it had been on an unorthodox visit to the Jungle, she had been kind enough to let him skirt the edges of his birth home with a friend. He would not forget such kindness, and he smiles gently in her direction.
But this is neither the time nor place to explain the reasoning behind his visit—certainly not a romantic date as was assumed, at least he hadn’t viewed it in such a light—and he straightens, nodding toward his King. “I think I speak for the entire kingdom when I say we appreciate the support.” His voice drops a little, his gaze tracing the borders of their quiet, gentle kingdom. “We all know that war is coming, and I think we all intend to be on the winning side of it. So how do we best prepare for it?”
She may be preoccupied with other things (a hell of a lot of things), but Lagertha hasn’t entirely missed that her friend is out of sorts. She has a hunch that it may not just be about the war, and so she asked Rhy to join them - not as Khaleesi and Erinak - but as friends. Their walk back would be long, and it would either be fruitful and allow them to hash things out, or something else would happen and it would be uncomfortably long. Either way, maybe it could alleviate whatever is going on in that brain of hers, and hopefully allow them to reconnect.
They may disagree on some basic principles, but when it came down to it, if Rhy asked her to step down and gave a good reason, she would. When the gold and white mare had been completely mortal, the gray would have given her life if need be. Neither of them have those pesky mortality issue anymore. But the sentiment stands. Hell, it’s even crossed her mind that if the two of them were inclined towards mares, they might end up together and be quite the Jungle power couple. Which is funny to think about, in some alternate universe.
As for Anguisette, she is well aware of her daughter’s disgruntled reaction towards her denial of a Chamber visit. There is a reason for that, too. First, there was little knowledge to gain from Sette going there, as it was supposed to be short and sweet. Second, she needed to put a face to who they were fighting with. It’s always important to give a reason for war, instead of faceless cause. And third, all three women needed to understand exactly what they’re dealing with - for the sake of planning both offense and defense. They need to see the destruction, though it must be well on its way to repairing itself.
Rhy takes command as first Mast (she nods in greeting, but waits and says nothing) then Magnus come to greet them. Her eyes linger on the pair of stallions, examining the gray king’s antlers and the buckskin’s wings. Sometimes she misses her horns - but those wings were just a nuisance in the Jungle’s dense landscape. And they were easily infested with bugs. There is something she wants to say to Magnus - but not right now. Perhaps before she leaves. It isn’t important, and certainly doesn’t pertain to war. But goddamn, he is still rather handsome. It irrationally irritates her. Instead, she goes into General mode. Her eyes glance to the sky, noting the lack of black birds and the fact that they were in an area devoid of trees. Surely the Ravens knew they were there, but they hiding in the trees to eavesdrop.
“There’s a lot to do. Show us the damage to the Gates so we can understand what we’re up against.” She lets the stallions take the lead, and when they’ve started, she walks and talks business. “First of all, our magician has made it so Straia’s birds can’t get into the Jungle anymore. It’s safe, but we are far from each other, so we’ll need to find a way to communicate. Second, we wait to see what the Dale will do. We are very closely allied with them, and a Sister is there now, informing Ramiel of our decision. Do you have any other allies?” She pauses, knowing that she’s throwing a lot at someone who may not be so… militarily inclined. The Dale’s support would be a key factor in making this a level playing field or an uphill battle. “And lastly, I’d like to speak to your General. See what we can come up with.”
That’s all for now. It’s a damn shame she can’t be in two places at once. It would make everything so much easier.
surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
She had not been called upon but she doesn't feel she needs to be either, or perhaps she does. She was supposed to be doing Governor things, Lady things, right? That is why Wichita has been watching the group from afar, watching the group of women that greet her King and their Lord. They all seem much fiercer than she is, standing tall and proud, especially the grey one. That must be their Queen. She can feel them, each a different set of emotions reflecting from within. All except the one, she was..cloudy, as good a description as any. Shielded maybe, Wichita wondered how she was doing that. Wondered so much so that she thought to ask, her own accomplishments with empathy had been surprises. Its capabilities were for the most part unknown to her, so when she found new uses she was startled half the time.
She's cautious, a slow approach, though there's no reason for her to be. For one the emotions she could feel were not menacing, and two she didn't think Mast or Magnus would leave her a sitting duck. Truly she was when it came to a fight, that's why she had been so keen to keep practicing her new gifts, to learn. While she wasn't sure it could cause physical harm, mental assault was just as useful- she knew this all too well.
The short mare does her best to not interrupt, trying to blend in with the group that is already gathered, edging closer to the palomino paint. "Hi there." She smiles warmly, blinking at the woman with her painted lids. "I'm Wichita, How're ya doin' that?" Her words almost a mess of a honeyed drawl. "You're kinda..uhh, fuzzy." By fuzzy she means the sense of emotions from the Amazon, but she doesn't elaborate. "Is it magic?" Her chocolate eyes are sprinkled with a childish wonder, it's so strange to have company in their quiet Kingdom. It's so strange to be standing in a group so large, even if in truth it isn't very big at all.
Of the ongoing conversation she catches only the tail end, something about birds and communication between their Kingdoms. She seems to perk at this, her silvered black ears turning against her flaxen hair to listen. "'Scuse, me ma'am. Sorry." She looks on apologetically at the group. "Don't mean to butt in there, but I got sorta an idea if ya like. I didn't mean to do it at first, sure I could work on it though if ya want." She's like a young girl again, speaking to a group of adults, trying her best to make sense. "This empathy, you can make things, like a fawn. It's purely emotion but it might could work, do yall have an empath in the Jungle?" She had by mistake made a small fawn while watching the deer herd that called the Gates home. It was a small thing, whispy in appearance, radiating a serene feeling of peace. It had come and gone quickly but practice makes perfect.
He wasn’t a warrior by any stretch, but he was loyal to his kingdom. He would lay down his life for any one of them at any time. He would give them his dying breath, if that was what was needed of him. Despite their preparations, he knew there was a more than good chance that they would lose someone in the war. It was the nature of the beast, something entirely unavoidable when war was on the table. Even the thought of it made his stomach tighten painfully, but it also made his jaw clench with a fierce resoluteness. If it was war the Chamber so desperately craved, then the Gates and their allied forces would oblige them.
Out of habit he cast a glance at the sky, mimicking Lagertha, his eyes peeled for any circling ravens. He knew there was a good chance they were lurking in the forest somewhere, ready to report back to their mistress the moment the Amazonian envoy had left the Gates. Thankfully, the kingdom had given him somewhat of a solution to that problem. He had been keeping his new ability a secret- not because he wanted to, but because the more tricks they had up their sleeves, the better off they would be. It wasn’t a flashy gift like others had and not as blatantly powerful, but it would be immensely useful to all of them. But it doesn’t show it, not yet. He would know when the time was right.
“We’ve come to let you know the Jungle would like to aid the Gates.” He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he let it out in relief. For months the Gates had been waiting on tenterhooks for this news. With the Deserts and the Jungle they were a force to be reckoned with, despite the many magical creatures the Chamber and Valley had crawling amongst it. The news was even grander when Lagertha informed him of the Dales involvement as well. That left only the Tundra and the Falls to possibly side with the Chamber/Valley regime, and while he didn’t know much of the brothers in the high north, he felt quite certain the Falls would remain neutral before they would side with the two evil kingdoms. He could be wrong, but he liked to think positive anyways. Lagertha leads them forward, her manner as brisk as her tone. Mast wasn’t offended though; to the contrary, he was quite impressed with the iron-gray mare and her uncanny ability to take command of the situation. “Its mostly regrown now, but the damage was quite extensive. They burned our magical tree to a crisp. Thankfully, what they appeared to have not known was that while in looks it is nothing more than a tree made of bark and water, its roots tap into something much deeper than earth.” he said, a hint of pride shining in his smooth voice. “They also sent along a red-eyed cremello to act as mercenary. He stole our then Queen Fiasko, raped her, and held her hostage in the Chamber.” Even the memory of it is enough to make him angry, and he finds himself grinding jaw as if he were chewing grass. Before he can continue they are joined by Wichita, and he offers her a smile. She was one of his pride and joys as a king. She had come to the kingdom a wrecked little creature, and gradually the kingdom had healed her. It had definitely brought her out of her shell. He offered her a small smile, glad to see she was putting her kingdom gift to use and experimenting with its limitations. Finally, she finished (somewhat sheepishly, it seemed), and Mast turned back to face the Amazonian group. “I too have ways we can communicate. My daughter, Topsail, is a telepath. I’ve also recently been given something from the kingdom which should make it possible for us to communicate without leaving our kingdoms. I won’t go into details here, but I’ll send a little something along to the Jungle after you’ve returned.” He hated being so cryptic, but even more than that he hated the damn birds that made his clear blue sky their spy grounds. “Also, you’ve already met our General. Magnus has stepped up to the position of General and Lord.” he paused, turning his head to the buckskin, “Magnus, whatever you need to do for or with the army, feel free.” he said with a nod, giving the stallion free rein. Mast could admit his short-comings, and war planning was high on the list.
Lagertha takes the lead, picking up as General where Rhy leaves off as diplomat. If nothing else, Rhy can’t imagine leaving her friend. Perhaps that’s why she stayed, why she kept serving the Jungle no matter what. They were two pieces to one much better mare then either of them could be alone. Rhy has no skills as a general (though she’s not useless as a warrior simply based on instinct and an arsenal of useful traits), and Lagertha’s diplomatic skills are sorely lacking.
Rhy is content to listen, watching the others interact. A few of them cast their eyes skyward, Lagertha mentioning the ravens as well. “You should assume the ravens are listening, even if you can’t see them.” She says simply. It’s her job to know what’s going on in other kingdoms, after all, and being invisible often makes spying easy. Though she knows her cousin well enough anyway, and she knows the ravens take many different forms. They were not always black or easily spotted. They could made of clouds, for all she knows, hiding in the blue sky above.
Another joins the group, closing the distance between herself and Rhy specifically. Fuzzy she says, and it takes Rhy a minute to figure it out. She’s never spent much time using her empathy. She doesn’t like it, honestly. Not that it doesn’t come in handy at times, and she’ll generally open herself up enough to catch hostile feelings, but mostly she doesn’t use it. Still though, this new mare is somewhat calming, and Rhy figures out what she means. Is it magic? Maybe. Some combination of the traits in her veins, or maybe it’s just a product of being half dead and half alive. Maybe she uses the empathy to shield herself without even knowing.
Honestly, she has no idea. She smiles slightly. “Beats me,” she says honestly, because she’s not sure what makes her fuzzy where others are not. Maybe it’s simply because she doesn’t know her own emotions. How can someone else read her if she can’t even read herself?
She listens to Mast, wondering if he’s underestimating the Chamber. She suspects, though Straia would never dream of telling Rhy any of these details, that the Chamber never really meant to kill the kill. Well, Straia probably did plan to. She probably didn’t care if it happened or not. The Chamber simply wanted to start a war. And they had. They didn’t need to destroy a magical entity to do so (could anyone kill the magic of Beqanna anyway?).
But in this case, none of it really matters. It’s only speculation on Rhy’s part, a guess based on what she does know of her cousin. But her cousin has become a different mare then the girl Rhy once knew. Perhaps she simply wanted to destroy it all. Instead, she sticks to the topic of how to converse, because it’s the thing she’s best at. “I’m an empath. Though you’ll have to teach me that trick.” She says to Witchita.
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