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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    who would've thought it was pure gold; castile / any
    #1

    It has been months since she has returned.

    Months and it still feels like a dream—like an out-of-body experience. The magic has begun to settle into her more and, with the return of Vulgaris, she can feel pieces of herself clicking back into place. That does not mean she does not still rage at the actions they have taken to destroy her home (so much of it still covered in ash and scorch marks) or that she does not grieve for the mistakes that she has made that have resulted in more bloodshed than she will ever come to grips with—perhaps it means that she does feel such things. She opens herself to it and lets herself grapple with what that means, what she is to become.

    There is no part of her that wants to return here. So much of her wishes she could simply turn her cheek and look the other way. She wishes that she could pretend that it never happened. She wishes that she could relinquish her crown and move forward with her life, pretending she but a simple healer. But such things are denied her now, and she knows that she is to face this head-on. She is to bear it.

    So she comes to their border and waits.

    Her eyes are hazel and she does not use magic to announce her arrival. Instead, for all intents and purposes, she looks but a simple mare. Lovely and kind and quiet. Her mane ropes crimson down a dappled neck and the flowers blooming in her mane are white as the flag that she intends to wave. 

    Once, this had been her home. She had raised her family here with Vulgaris and watched as Adna had scampered up and down the hillside. She had felt her second child swell in her stomach. She had learned what a home meant by his side. It is not meant to house her any longer—she has returned to Tephra—but there is part of her that mourns to see her marks scarring the land. She angles her head toward the pieces of the maze that still exist and she quietly retracts them into the ground, slowly disassembles them.

    In their place, she lets flowers bloom to cover the fire and the blood.

    Let it be a peace offering, she thinks.

    it's only you and me there until the darkness calls
    let's face the dawn together; we'll brave whatever comes



    @[Castile]
    [Image: avatar-1975.gif]
    the heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity
    #2
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    The tumultuous relationship between Loess and Tephra burst into a storm of ash and fire.

    But the weeks, and now months, have passed and their homes have been recovering from the onslaught. He has made exhausted attempts to burn pieces of the maze, as has Reia, but it continues standing sentinel as threads of magic defend its place. A snarl quivered his lips each morning that he saw it, and when he looked down at his daughter’s injured wing. Somehow, it was snagged during the chaos and dislocated when she attempted to pull it free. Fortunately, with the assistance of Tiphon, it was popped back into place but the lost feathers are still trying to grow back.

    Venturing from the cave, Castile returns to a hill near the winding maze. It was altered when Leliana began withdrawing herself from it, but still it stands. A smoldering breath twirls from his nostrils in disgust, but just as he readies himself to turn away, the vegetation withers away. He turns his head to curiously watch until nothing remains except the memory. When his eyes lift, Leliana is somberly at the border.

    A growl is what greets her. It reverberates through his entire core as Castile’s gaze bores into her. ”Your warm welcome in Loess expired a long time ago,” her scent littered their foothills as it mingled with Vulgaris. That was months ago. Supposedly, she was a prisoner and yet treated with compassion by her lover. So, was it actually more of a vacation? Thoughts tumble over one another as he unyieldingly stares until finally asking, ”Why are you here?”


    castile


    @[leliana]
    #3

    Leliana does not expect to be greeted warmly—it has been a long time since she had felt such a thing here—and so she does not cower when the dragon greets her. Instead she stands quietly, soft but not weak, her hazel eyes steady as she looks toward him. “I know better than to think that, Castile,” she says, her voice mild, once again the sound of calm waters, unperturbed and unaffected, regardless of how she feels.

    For a second, she is quiet, thoughtful, turning her gaze toward Loess and then back to him.

    “I have no hunger for bloodshed,” she says simply. “I made mistakes. I let my power overtake me and when I tried to right injustice, I simply furthered it.” Her face does not betray the ache that she feels at the words—the way that it is a dagger that slips into her belly, the way that her hands cannot and will not ever stop the bleeding. “I thought I could control my magic, but I couldn’t. It took on a life of its own and innocents were hurt because of it. I will live with that knowledge for the rest of my life.”

    She straightens slightly. “I watched my husband die. I held my child in the afterlife. I know the depth of my crimes.” Once it might have crippled her—and it still might—but today she is clear eyed and calm, not fearful of his teeth or his power. She is but a magician of flora and fauna, but she won’t turn away.

    “I don’t come asking for peace, Castile. I know better than to think you would agree to such a thing. I can hope that you will stay your hand—that you will no longer hold anyone against their wishes—but I no longer want to fight for such a thing.” The air is sweeter without the presence of the maze, without the stench of its burned edges. “I simply came to let you know that should you continue, it will be one-sided.”

    Not that Loess would meet Tephra with their belly up, but they would not be the first to strike.

    They would be, as she had been during their attack, defensive in nature.

    It was the only thing she could be anymore and still hold onto whatever remnants of her soul she has left.

    it's only you and me there until the darkness calls
    let's face the dawn together; we'll brave whatever comes



    @[Castile]
    #4
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    Castile stares at her, listens to her, but a fire burns deep in his core. Anger bristles across him, but it does not show except in the flash of his eyes.

    ”You’re a fool,” he finally snarls as he takes a single step forward, holding her gaze with his own. ”Did you really think you could control yourself so easily and quickly? It took me years to harness my own abilities,” it was a turbulent process brimming with pain, fear, and heartache. Failure was the main artery in his learning – failure to thrive, failure to love, failure to protect – and yet Leliana thought herself better, stronger, to hold an unwavering grasp on her new powers. He wants to chase her away from Loess, yet his legs cannot – will not – move.

    He is forced to watch her as she straightens herself and admits to her faults.

    A summer gale kisses Castile’s skin as it warms beneath the unblocked sunlight. His head turns into it, breathing in the scents of his home and remembering so many of the lives that were affected by the war. The war didn’t only destroy land, but families. A wrench in his gut acts as a broken dam that permits the explosive anger to surface in the sound of his voice when he shoots his eyes back to the Tephran Queen. ”A Loessian child was killed, Leliana! A child that was never able to truly experience life or love – all brought on for a war you started for prisoners we no longer had!” A bold, challenging step edges him closer to her, but he does not reach to touch or attack.

    He suddenly reigns himself back, checks the sudden explosion of his anger and hurt at having seen a child plunge to its death. ”No, peace isn’t an option. I cannot expect my Loessian family to accept peace after what happened that day,” a brief pause allows him a moment to reflect on Loess’ ambitions and actions. ”We won’t bend to anyone’s wishes, either.”



    castile


    @[leliana]
    #5

    Perhaps when she was a younger girl, his words may have shattered her.

    Maybe she would have dissolved before him, meek and battered and guilty. She would have accepted all of the blame, would have self-detonated with it, would have been unable to hold his gaze or stopped the tendrils of fear that raced through her stomach. But she is not a younger girl now. She is not even who she was. So she doesn’t shatter or bend or even crumple before him; she just stays quiet, thoughtful.

    “I just told you about all of my mistakes. Do you feel better for having yelled them back at me?” She angles her lovely head, her calm eyes studying him. She doesn’t feel the need to defend herself further; to explain how the magic nearly broke her mind in half when it flooded through her. How it had not been her arrogance that had driven her mistakes but her naivety, her inability to harness the breadth of her gift.

    But such things don’t make it to her lips.

    Instead she just watches as he rages at her, curious at the way Loess seems content to waiver between chaos-loving warmongers and victims of a war they helped ignite. “I am well aware that such a life was lost when the child followed you to Tephra, and I mourn that child as much as I mourned my own.” She had tried to find ways to revive bodies from the magma, but just as she had not been able to recreate Vulgaris from the ashes, she could not remake the boy she had never met. “But I did not deliver the killing blow. I did not take his eyesight or force him into the middle of the war. No Tephran did.”

    She knows the series of events that led to the boy’s death.

    She knows how he had been flying, how his own relative had tried to end the war but caused his death.

    But Leliana, for as complicated as her relationship is with Heartfire, has no desire to cast blame.

    Still, if Loess seeks to blame her and her kingdom for his death, she would bear it. When he finally, conclusively, denies her offer of peace, she merely rolls a shoulder. “I am not surprised.” She takes a step back, hesitating for just a moment before finding his draconic eyes again. “But do not mistake my intentions to try and negotiate peace as weakness, Castile. I have no intentions of letting you harm my home again.” There is the barest flutter of a smile at the edges of her gentle lips.

    “I am not afraid of dragons. Not anymore.”

    And then with a smile, she blinks herself out of existence and returns home.

    it's only you and me there until the darkness calls
    let's face the dawn together; we'll brave whatever comes



    @[Castile]




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