"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
06-17-2017, 12:21 PM (This post was last modified: 06-17-2017, 12:48 PM by Levi.)
His memory had lead him true, back to his childhood home.
The year had changed him, he had gained height and girth. He had gained precision and aptitude. He had gained followers, and he had left them.
Rumors had floated to him on the wind, a new king rising. But this new king wasn’t new at all. He was as old as the gods, and older than the volcano.
Offspring, His father. Ironic.
King Offspring.
Levi would have enjoyed meeting the bitch who names a child Offspring.. but she had probably been dead for a century. Maybe he would meet her in the afterlife, there was a good chance they were going to the same place. Luckily he happened to have a thing for fire – so a lake of it wouldn’t be so bad.
Or maybe the name was meant to be Off Spring, How pretty. The true inflection of the black stallion's name could have been forgotten. His old man is indeed and Old Man.
In his mind Levi whispered these things to her sneeringly. But he knows better than to show any expression. And anyway- it’s not that funny she tells him.
Fire moves under his skin.
The red eye burns, a hint of what is inside. His father has managed to crown himself for a second time. Most rejoice is they can play king once. Offspring had placed the crown on his on head multiple times now, even a fool could recognize that was respectable. Levi was drawn back to his father’s power, but he was no ones fool- he would not be a pawn.
He wanted to learn, he was still young and he was smart enough to know that he was still in his formative years.
So the king’s offspring comes crawling back, the precarious son.
Somewhere on the edge of insanity and brilliance. He stand at the boarder of his fathers kingdom dripping wet from his swim across the channel, head high and eyes blazing.
you can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings.
Uncertainty.
That is the primary emotion surfacing from the darkest depths of his mind, his sharpened sight settled upon his son long before he had even reached the border of the island – he can sense the heat from his body; his vision changing to a heat signature and Levi is scalding. Burning from the inside, not unlike himself, and yet, seemingly at ease with it – far more than he, himself, had been or ever would be.
The fire, for him, was not a gift bestowed to him at birth – it had been a curse, given to him in return for a journey in another dimension; another world. Where he had bled, scratched, clawed his way through. Where he had tasted blood for the first time (would it be the last?). Where he had watched the corpses of his loved ones lie, bloated and rotting from the inside out – a vision of horror, that kept him awake long after the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon.
His son knew nothing of power, nothing of what it took – he wielded his fire with ease, but recklessly. Such did not go unnoticed by his father, who knew that there was a darkness within his son, one that he would never be able to reach – a darkness that no light would be able to penetrate. He could do little else but let him wander away from the isle from which had been born and raised, precarious and curious, wondering what might become of him. What he might make of himself.
He did not need to use his son as a pawn – he was stronger than him; more powerful than he.
At the very core of it, he is his own blood, his own progeny. He did not often say so, but he loved him, and would, unconditionally – but he did not need to use him for anything at all.
He simply longed for him to be - to make something of himself; to be content with himself.
Something he has never been.
The salty seawater trickles off of Levi’s two-toned skin in rivulets – Offspring can see each individual bead with the intensity of his newfound sight, and he is coming ever closer to him. Quietly, with his searing crimson eyes settled upon him, he moves towards him – parting the swaying grain with the girth of his body, singing the vegetation with the scalding heat of his body.
”My son,” he says simply, reaching out to touch his cheek, to draw him closer to him, but he does not yet make contact. ”you’ve come home.”
you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything.
Something was different, his never-changing father has changed. Had he ever really looked at his father when he was a child? That had been and oversight, and he does so now. Of course, Offspring had gone through many changes, like anyone with such an ancient soul. But these things were before Levi, to him the ebony king had stood a statue of the eternal stoic. In Levi’s eyes, he had always been a king (crowned or uncrowned), he had always been burning, he had always been untouchable.
His mismatched eyes are evaluating the larger stallion, his pale face rigid as his thoughts tick methodically in his mind. His body is uncannily unmoving, his head high on his thick neck, accentuated by his roached mane. Offspring seems, older. The grasses around the king smolder as he approaches, his crimson eyes equally intense as the heat rolling off his body in waves. But Levi does not wilt under the strength of his father’s gaze, he meets it and reflects it back. Interested, wary.
His father reaches out to him in greeting and he hesitates only for a moment before returning the gesture. His touch is the minimum of acceptable. His father may not be so pleased with his arrival after he heard what he must say.
“My son… you’ve come home.” The words hang in the sweltering air between them, but Levi barley notices the temperature of his birthplace, heat comes naturally to him. He hesitates briefly as he forms the sentence he must speak next. Flames came more naturally than words to him.
The journey for Hyaline had taken him two days. He had not rushed, he had used the time to contemplate his current situation – it had many facets. He decided his father would know soon, half the world would know, or already knew, soon and he did not want his father on unequal footing. The night may have been rash, but he did not regret it, at least not yet. With so many involved, there was no way he would remain anonymous. Maybe that had been his largest miss-step.
“Harboring me may put Tephra in a precarious situation.” A statement, the truth. He was not egotistical enough to believe he could manipulate his father. “Hyaline burned two nights ago,” and a few other things he doesn’t bother to mention, the lake boiled, the fish died, people were hurt, the earth shifted and rumbled, all are unnecessary details. If his father needed more details, he would ask. Hyaline Burned gets the point across. “but, I’m willing to earn my keep.” His voice is low and steady, despite his uncertainty. “And I’m not asking for protection.” He adds quickly. Levi was not hiding, he was doing the opposite. But he never was one for flowing words and his speech is a little more fragmented than normal, the only hint that he is not as confident as he appears.
His cards were on the table, and he had no idea what to expect from the ebony stallion now. Offspring may be his father, but he was also a king. Hellfire or ice Levi’s shoulders were broad enough to carry whatever he had coming.
you can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings.
The tension in the air is thicker than the humidity, stifling and suffocating – electricity crackling within the darkness of two wayward beings, smoldering from within, burning from inside. He had not seen in son in too long (time is reckless and unyielding; it waits for no one) – he had been only a boy when his wanderlust had struck, longing to see what lay beyond the border of the rising sea, aching to be anywhere but the volcanic island – as most children are wont to do. He had let him go, knowing how hot the fire that burn beneath the surface stirred him into restlessness (he knew because he felt it, too – scalding, urging him away from the shadows).
Yet now, he is carved of muscle, bone and surging testosterone – caught somewhere between his youth and inevitable maturity, with a slenderer build than he, but with the distinct feathering of his father and mottled coloring of his mother. He was the flawless product of his lineage. Strong, powerful, yet agile – he can see so much of Isle on the surface, but there is a darkness within him that is more like the shadow of his own. He is his son, through and through.
Uncertainty is not only felt by him – he can see it in his posture (rigid, terse – coiled muscle beneath taut skin), feel it exuding from him in slow but steady pulses, as rhythmic as his own heartbeat, pounding solidly within the hearth of his chest.
His son touches him, but it is a far cry from the quiet colt that had nestled against him for warmth. Ephemeral.
And then he speaks, his voice low – much lower than he had remembered – his mismatched eyes boring into his own, glowing like lit coal, and he is quiet, listening.
A precarious position, he utters carefully, but honestly. Bluntly. His own cheek is turned towards the rumbling volcano that lay settled in the distance, off to the eastern shore. He settles one single, roving eye upon him, studying the way his own uncertainty has crawled its way into the marrow of his bones, and beneath a façade of strength and confidence, he can see the shadow of the boy he once was.
Hyaline burned two nights ago - the confession is heavy in the air; more difficult to swallow than the thickened ash or sulfur lingering in the tepid atmosphere. I’m willing to earn my keep (let me stay, let me be home) and I’m not asking for protection, he is quick to say, but there is doubt swelling within the void of his chest – but his stern features remain solemn, feigning stoicism.
”You burnt Hyaline,” he says – a statement; a truth he already knows. ”what for, Levi?What purpose did it serve? And to what degree did you burn it?”
Recklessness, and his eyes flash, the fire stoking from within.
”You might not be asking for protection, but if I permit you to stay, you will be under my watch, and thus, I must protect you.”
My son, he doesn’t say.
”You have much to learn.”
He pauses, contemplating.
”You know that I would not – could not turn my back on you,” he murmurs quietly, a flame touching the surface of his skin and crawling the length of his spine. ”but I will not tolerate insolence within my kingdom, least of not from my son. You will earn your keep, as you promise, and harm no other. So long as you do that, you will have Tephra to call your own.”
you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything.
If anyone was to understand why he had needed to do it, it would be Offspring.
But Levi did not come home for companionship, comradery or to be understood. Does the ‘why’ matter? He had wanted to see the fire stretch from his toes to the horizon, and he had. He wanted to feel power, to see them squirm. And he had. Was that a good answer? Because I wanted too.
No, it was a childish reason and he knows it.
But his father’s investigation did not stop there, “And to what degree did you burn it?” That was a concreate question, with an answer he was ready to provide.“There is a lake in the middle of the territory and three rivers flow from it.” Details. “Hyaline is divided into three pieces by these waters, and the north eastern portion is where we… attacked.”Attack wasn’t the word he wanted to use, but it was the word on hand. “So, about a third, half at most.”
He had not stayed until the morning to evaluate the extent of the damage, but he knew that the flames could not have crossed the wide rivers with no aid from him.
Too late, he realizes the other piece of information he had given away - We.
Well, no use in pretending that was all you now.
So, he continues. “One of Hyaline’s leaders, Iset, played a part. She does not deserve to be a princess… or whatever she is.” He hadn’t planned on giving away any details about the others, but Iset stood apart from the rest - she was unique in her dual involvement as victim and perpetrator. Was that cowardice, blame shifting?
No. It is an important detail. And his father needed details. “If I stay, you will be taking responsibility for my actions.” That night in Hyaline, events had escalated quicker than Levi had foreseen. The sacking of the eastern side of an entire territory would not go unaddressed. But the king already knew this.
Offspring’s eyes flash, impossibly hot, and for a second Levi believes he is about to lash out. But he doesn’t flinch in anticipation, maybe that was his inexperience showing. Luckily, his father chooses words instead of violence and Levi listens carefully – a pupil.
I won’t be a pawn is what he thought but “If I stay I will be useful.” Is what he says, his confidence returning.
Father, I want you to see me as a valuable.
His mind was active and always churning. Nothingness, grazing, chatting and bathing would drive him into the not so distant arms of insanity. Idleness was not in his nature; his body was young and supernaturally fueled by his fire and immortality. He had a need for excitement which was masquerading as darkness. He didn’t know how to answer his inner turmoil, but maybe Offspring did – wasn’t that why he was king?
He was not yet ready to make something of himself, he could barely claim the title of stallion. He wanted more than a home, he wanted direction. If he had only been seeking a place to exist The Forest would have served him as well, or better than, Tephra. He wants what only his father can give him.
“I want to learn.” He nearly growls, not from agitation, from conviction.
you can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings.
His explanation is carefully constructed, yet built with a shaky and unstable foundation – there is a tremor in his tone that reveals the trembling, uncertain boy beneath the exterior of hardened resolve. He can still feel the young colt, nestled up against the hearth of his chest while the volcanic island endured the throes of a passionate, but violent summer storm – a wild and forceful tempest, and he had been his shelter. He would always be his shelter. He longed for those days (so simple, so pure), to capture them again, but time is cruel and unfair, and the innocence that once filled his son had long since faded away.
There is a shadow of ire within the tension wrought beneath his burning eyes, but more so, there is disappointment – evident in the way his teeth clench, with the muscle of his jaw coiling tightly. His mind is thoughtful, contemplating the explanation offered – it is satisfactory, at best, but his son does not answer his first inquiry as to why and the fire is suddenly burning so brightly, it scalds the delicate tissue of his chest, causing him to noticeably flinch in agitation. Slowly, the fire emerges from the surface of his skin, trailing across his marred flesh – a low, flickering ember, reflecting the turmoil stirring within him.
Iset - a Queen involved in the incident, against her own kingdom, no less! The Queen of Nerine must have no control over the kingdoms beneath her rule, and he can hardly stifle the humorless laugh from bubbling up within his throat at the thought. He had yet to meet her, yet to even know of her name, but she is already carving a name for herself in history.
He cared little for who else might be involved, as he would not bear the burden of blame for those he did not know, did not care about, but there is a small, logical part of him that is urging him to listen, to carefully keep the names spoken close at hand. Inevitably, those who had been involved might come looking for Levi, might come to Tephra, and he would harbor no one else but his own son. He would not make the mistake of overlooking another.
”I am certain that once the Queen of Nerine is aware of her involvement, she will be more or less be no more than a speck of dust,” he muses softly, his voice rough and husky. Quietly, he observes the ferocity etched into the features of his youngest son – he has conviction, a wild heart, a free spirit – he is so much of his mother, yet so much of him, as well. He is speaking of responsibility, of carrying the burden of his actions, as if he is worried Offspring is unaware of the dire consequences that may arise from doing so.
But nonetheless, he is his son, poor choices be damned – he would not tolerate a reoccurrence, but he would not turn him away for allowing his judgment to go astray. No. He held too much promise – he was a diamond in the rough, longing to be taken beneath the proverbial wing of his father, to be like him – to come into his own, with guidance, and he would not turn him away.
”I am aware of the consequences if I am to harbor you – but first and foremost, you are my son. I will give you one opportunity to make something of yourself, to be a part of something more. But those involved with you will not be welcomed here.”
I will be useful – I want to learn.
”Then I will teach you all that I know – but do not mistake my compassion for weakness, Levi. You are capable of so much more. You are destined to be so much more. Do not let me down.”
you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything.
