"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
If Yael remembers correctly (and she always does… funny how that works), it was she who had given Sinder the terms of his new voice, and he who had never gotten back to her. The mute had said he’d consider it, gone to do something, or twiddle his thumbs and then never returned. She could fill him in with a direct memory if he likes. That particular bit of magic was becoming easier with practice.
She knew he wasn’t dead. She just didn’t care whether or not he came to claim his prize.
The offer was still on the table.
He had to want it.
He had to accept her terms.
Luckily for him, her children were disappearing at an ungodly rate. She was down to three, if you count Kabechet (which she did), so the odds of Sinder being called into service was smaller than the last time they spoke. The gold and silver woman reaches out to touch his mind very gently, as if to say remember me? and then waits for a response. He didn’t have to get back to her. He could always go find another magician. But that would be a gamble, now wouldn’t it? What would their requirements be?
They were discussing, but that's all he remembers. What happened afterward slips his mind but he knows that the conversation went unfinished. There is still no voice in his head that he can transmit to others. There is no vibrating of his vocal chords. There is no sign of magic.
It left him confused, but with the change of monarchy Sinder set aside his ambitions. Everything he wanted crumbled and he has been left without a thing to do. There is a difference in the world, one that can be heard only by those of silence like himself. Such a subtle change and he isn't entirely sure what it entails; nonetheless, he wants to be a part of it. There is a great urge inside him to help bring about the chaos with only his select few to ever rise. A coy grin just begins to tremble at the corners of his mouth until there is a familiar presence that thumbs through his thoughts and blankets over his consciousness.
Yael.
Unable to ignore her, Sinder allows his muted thoughts to hover and wait to be netted like fish. Oh, my dearest and most favorite of queens, he wonders what humor would sound like if he had a voice or telepathy. Would it be eerie like his hooded appearance or would there be something appealing about it? His eyes roll in their sockets to half-heartedly search for her, but Yael is nowhere to be seen. I have missed you oh so much. Sinder tries to convince himself that it is a lie, but there is something about the coy magician that always seems to draw his interest.
It is conceivable that Yael has some sort of magnetism, whether it be from her dainty beauty or general benevolence (most of the time… apparently an attitude has cropped up since Van’s death) is unknown. Maybe the magnetism is her undeniable power. Isn’t that what everyone hungers for - whether it be a voice or immortality or something as simple as the feeling of control over one’s life? They were all moths to some sort of flame, hers just happened to be bright and white and good.
Sinder flutters and stutters and comes in to her. She smiles. Even though he doesn’t mean what he says, the game between them is amusing.
Deed you now? Deed you xaf nice dreams? She asks in a half serious, half teasing manner. Her voice lingers in his mind with a soft chuckle before the gold and silver magician decides to see him face to face. She is different than the last time he saw her; her mane and tail bleached by the raw power of the Desert as she rid the sands of excess water. There are lines of sadness around her eyes that never fully disappear, even when her eyes are smiling. Yael is still as she gazes upon him, waiting to see if he still wanted what he used to want. Waiting to see if he is still the same. Waiting to see if Noori and his child, or if the loss of love (yes, even his kind loves) has changed anything.
He doesn't feel obligated to her; he is not her servant or even a friend. Perhaps allies, unexpected allies, would be a more likely term. While Yael embodies all that is happy and pure Sinder feasts on the need for corruption and mayhem. His titles have been stripped away, leaving him bare and without a hope to stamp himself on this wretched world. This curse - his lack of a voice - hinders him more and more with every passing year. No longer is he that quiet prince that can more easily slip through the masses and press words into the skin of women. Now, he is an adult with a need for something greater. Mares are fearful; they jump away if he leans toward them to touch or form some statement. They are weak and misunderstanding. For that reason, Sinder has given up on most communication.
What sealed it was the Tundra when he could only stare as the other males congregated around him, waiting for an answer that would never come.
A snort of amusement quivers his nostrils as the fallen Queen mentions dreams. What would it be like to have such joy overwhelm him during his rest? With a shake of his head he thinks, No, only nightmares. There is no complaint or illness to his mental reply. It's an empty statement lacking a tied emotion. It fazes him not that he hasn't yet experienced true joy.
Father was killed. Mother disappeared. Sister faded away. Noori had others. He is no longer a prince.
What more is there? Everything has been stripped from him but still he continues on. It's all he can do even as he finds himself tightly tethered to the dunes because of his lack of responsibility or purpose anywhere else. Maybe Yael is another reason that he has remained here thus long; she is the only one who hasn't entirely abandoned him just yet, his unexpected ally.
The shadows of his eyes brighten subtly when she materializes in front of him. Rather than speak, the palomino matches his eternal silence. She still radiates the same essence of power, but Sinder notices the minute changes to her appearance. He doesn't comment on it, but simply nods his head. Telepathy, he muses with a casual roll of his muscular shoulders, because I enjoy the silence until I decide otherwise. Not everyone needs to know what lies in the crevices of his mind. With a physical voice (and how treacherous and frightening it would sound) the entire world would be able to overhear ideas, conversations, and ploys.
No, Sinder is much more secretive and quiet.
Being a mute his entire life has had its advantages.
Boredom is a pain, he inwardly comments with a sigh before slipping his gaze across the distant sand dunes.
For the first two years of her life here, Yael had almost nightly terrors, waking in a cold sweat at the sound of the children shrieking in pain and the sight of her Abba disappearing into the flames. And then her nightmares came to life again, when Vanquish died, and before that – from the night-monster with the dark-power. What kind of monster can kill a magician’s child? The very essence of nightmares, that’s what.
What does the poor princeling know of nightmares? She should laugh in his face, roll her eyes and tell him not to be so dramatic. Maybe it would be exactly what he needed. But you and I both know she won’t. So she doesn’t. Instead, she shakes her head. She doesn’t know how to open up the pathways in his mind to let him speak. She can manipulate the physical, but she does not want to delve into something that could hurt him more than help him.
“I can geev you an actual voice, I do not feel comfortable vit telepaty.” She knows better than to give him something like that, something like that to someone she does not entirely trust could be asking for trouble. Yael would not be blamed for letting something evil loose in the world. “But first, I vill xear you swear to xelp vone of my cheeldren, should t’ey ever ahsk eet. On penalty of losing your voice.” Her gaze is insistent and expectant, and while she wait for him to swear, she gathers her powers and prepares to look into him and fix whatever it is that keeps him mute. It is simply enough to look at her own body and copy what is supposed to be onto him. Minus the female parts, of course.
