"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
09-04-2016, 09:08 AM (This post was last modified: 09-04-2016, 09:10 AM by Epithet.)
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home
Epithet
It was time.
The tensing of her belly was one that she was familiar with—having done this before. She had nearly fled into the trees with hardly any time to create a thicket for herself, before laying down in a puddle of her own sweat, the heat coming off of her in layers. Epithet spread her legs and pushed, closing her eyes with the uncomfortable feeling as her body wracked with one contraction over the next, rolling over her like waves crashing on rock. She pulled her tail backwards, and moved her head to examine her body. Two tiny pink hooves made their presence eventually, a puddle of blood seeping from her nethers. She nibbled on the membranes and the fluids gushed from her body, and another contraction sent her moaning aloud, turning away from the sight of her newborn.
She pushed again, determined to have this be the end. And after a time, it was. A beautiful black baby girl slid forth from her body and into the world, gasping for breath, her tiny chest heaving with all the work that the little filly had gone through to get herself into the world. Epithet nosed the child, smiling at herself... wondering if Akhil was even aware—or if he cared—that he was a father again. “Rest now, mommy has you…Leola.”
09-06-2016, 03:39 PM (This post was last modified: 09-09-2016, 02:30 PM by Leah.)
AKHIL
He is oddly calm when the world ends.
The setting sun is ironic; the lovely pinks and oranges behind the chaos of the destruction and reconstruction. Fitting, really, with Beqanna’s sense of humor.
Akhil had seen the Catastrophe and the rebirth, even been influential in the newly formed Deserts. It seemed so long ago, now -- and it was, truly: fifty years was more than a lifetime for most, but in Akhil’s stretch of life it was more like yesterday.
It began similarly: the shifts and the earthquakes.
He takes flight, outstretching his huge, black wings -- Epithet’s wings, really -- and follows the chaos, where Beqanna has led them all. He looks for them first, of course -- Maye’s smoky black body, similar to his own, a glimpse of scars across her chest from Moriarty’s attack, and Epithet’s small body, angelic and white. He looks for them, even as he lands on the Mountain, air thin and cold. He looks for them, and sees nothing,
until --
He sees Epithet in the distance, slipping away, and follows her into the Forest. As he follows along, his wings begin to feel different. Lighter. He gives them a brief shake as Epithet comes to a stop, breathing heavily and sweating uncomfortably, and then -- a child.
“Epi?” He says, quietly, as not to disturb her, their, child. They’d had another, years ago, but Malachai had been fiercely independent, going off on his own at an early age.
“Oh, Leola,” he murmurs, stepping closer to them, black and white, wanting to reach out and touch them both. “She is mine, isn’t she, Epi?” he moves closer, still, gently touching Epithet with his nose. He doesn’t even notice how she is different; she has and always will be angelic in his eyes, despite the loss of her magic. He loves her, and while perhaps it is a different love than he shares with Maye, it is real nonetheless.
“She’s beautiful,” he says, finally, falling silent.
09-07-2016, 05:55 AM (This post was last modified: 09-07-2016, 05:56 AM by Epithet.)
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home
Epithet and Leola
The shifting of the leaves and the twigs at the entrance of the thicket caused Epithet to become wary. She did not get up, but her muscles tensed, and as Leola got up and tested her legs, it became clear that she was entirely clueless as to what was going on in the outside world. At the entrance, there was one that did not wait to be allowed in, but rather, he made his entrance as soft as he could, his eyes on the mother and child, his wings tucked gingerly into his sides.
Epithet blinked at seeing Akhil. Of course she had hoped she would see him again—but after that one time, she was not sure that she would. Her eyes widened at seeing his wings—for he had had those before the Reckoning—but she says nothing as he views his daughter through the eyes of a father. She sighs, her grey colored pelt rising and falling when he touches her with his nose, calling their daughter by her name. She had always known that she had had to compete for Akhil’s heart, but for the moment, she was content with the role she hoped he would play to their child. Malachai had gone off on his own with little regard for either one of his parents, and had not been seen in ages.
Leola was very much a mumma’s girl. She was aware that she did not look like her mother, but when the big black came into their little corner of paradise, she lifted up her small fuzzy head to try and gain a glimpse of him. Overwhelmed, she squeaked, and fell backwards onto her small rump. Struggling to get up—she’d only just been born—she fluffed up her tail, wiped off her rump, and bounded behind Mumma, staring at the large man before her. “Mumma, he knows my name. How does he know my name, Mumma?”
Epithet chuckled slightly from her place in the dirt, and nuzzled her child on the cheek, turning her soft blue eyes to view Akhil’s face. “Leola, this is your father. And we both love you very much.”
She would talk to Akhil once they made their exit from the thicket, but for now, she could pretend her heart wasn’t the least bit broken by the black stallion’s disappearance. She would be content.
09-25-2016, 06:14 PM (This post was last modified: 09-25-2016, 06:21 PM by Leah.)
AKHIL
He always knew they would find each other again.
It was just his way, to settle down and make roots for several years before growing restless and leave to wander. Before, he had always returned to the Deserts. He’d always felt confident that he could recreate himself there, whether he was a councilman or just a resident.
But this time, there was no Deserts for him to return to.
And though he was calm during Beqanna’s reformation, he was no longer confident. He didn’t know, of course, that the Deserts had been gone for years; Beqanna’s first victim. He didn’t know of the wars, or how it had almost been under the Valley’s control. He only knew that he was truly homeless for the first time in his long life.
Homeless, but not alone.
Leola reminds him so much of his only daughter with Maye, Charley, so outgoing and full of life. Akhil smiles, proud and excited, as the young black girl squeaks and falls and bounds about. “Well, Leola, I know everything,” he says with a wide grin, looking back down at Epithet, completely oblivious to the subtle tone in her voice that was less than thrilled with Akhil. Why would there be any reason for her to be unhappy with him? After all, they’d just had a beautiful, healthy child.
He relaxes, moving closer to where Epithet lay, nuzzling her and nibbling at her withers. He hoped she would continue to recover; after all, where did they have to be?
“How are you feeling? How have you been?” He asks, glancing back and forth between Epithet and Leola.
