"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
The dark may not particularly bother Tirza, thanks to her ability to see in infrared, but it was getting a little boring. The monotony of it was tedious in a life that had, much as dear Gospel had pointed out, amounted to nothing so far.
The problem was that nothing interested Tirza. There was no desire to join a land or climb the ranks, no interest in falling in love or starting a family. Not even any real interest in making friends, however the hell anyone managed to do that. She was content with her existence on most days - the anonymity of it, the promise of a long future for herself and her twin where she could steal days and years from those around them to rejuvenate their bodies and give them time to find… something.
Occasionally, there were days when her indifference was false. When she felt more than she ever cared to admit and when she craved something more than what she had.
Even on those days, that something was vague. A hazy shadow of a future, nothing concrete to work towards just the pressing need to reach it.
A deep frown settles in Tirza's reptilian eyes as the scaled mare moves at a slow, easy pace through the meadow. The bodies around her are vivid shapes of colour that she does her best to avoid, certain that she'd have more luck figuring out what she wants on her own.
(She doesn't let herself wonder why she came to one of the most populated areas if she wanted to "be alone", why waste valuable energy on such useless introspection)
TIRZA
open to any!
@[The Monsters] do your thing with her equus viperous please!
She survived only because ghosts cannot die.
Because half (or perhaps more than half) of her was already dead.
Born dead. Carved out of the earth by a father who had mastered death.
Half ghost, half viper. Cast out into the world by a mother who had not loved her, who had not cared to nurture the living half and had no interest in the dead half either.
The ghost had wandered, flickering at the edges. Soft.
She had ached for death. Not this death that was not death.
But ghosts cannot die.
She wanders still in this eternal darkness. Soft.
There are times still when the edges are hard and she is more viper than ghost and hunger roils in the pit of her gut. But the grasses here have all wilted and when she takes them into her belly they leave her feeling even emptier. So she dissolves all over again. There is no good in being a viper.
She is drawn to the scales more than anything else. They remind her of the mother who cast her away. Not that she feels any particular fondness for the mare, but there is something to be said for the familiarity of it. She goes a ghost, all soft edges, transparent. Galaxies spiraling through the atmosphere and so little else.
“You look like someone I knew once,” she tells the mare and then sighs a spectral sigh, “but she was nowhere near as pretty as you are.” Does the ghost know that she, too, is painted with galaxies? Has she ever caught sight of herself? Has she ever been viper long enough to dip her mouth into the river so that she might catch her reflection there? Does she know that she resembles this stranger more than she resembles the memory?
ALL I WANT IS BEACHES FULL OF DEAD BIRDS. A FLOOD OF LIMBS
WASHED UP ONSHORE. SEASCAPES SPARKLING BRIGHT WITH BONE
@[Tirza]
@[The Monsters] mess with her equus viperous too please!!
‘Your sister is a ghost’, Gospel had said - and Tirza thought that meant she had killed the child, or that it had died soon after being born. The womb of their mother was hardly a nurturing place, the creature that claimed to be their father dealt with dead things. It had taken no effort on Tirza’s part to believe she would never get the chance to meet her sister.
But she looks at this younger girl after blinking her eyes from infrared to her normal vision, and now it takes no effort to believe this is that sister.
Perhaps it is a coincidence, but it does not seem likely that there is another fanged ghost girl with swirling galaxy markings. One who knew someone that looked like Tirza.
Another viper, one that had abandoned her daughter rather than care for the being she had brought into the world. None of them had asked to be born, certainly had not asked to be born into the family they had been. There is not much love in Tirza’s venomous heart but even she aches for this child.
Tirza doesn’t smile, but when she stops to face the ghost there is something soft about her dark grey eyes. “You’re right, she’s not as pretty as me. And she's definitely not as pretty as you.” The words are clipped, factual, (she has no practice giving compliments) but they hold no venom as she allows herself to observe the girl with curiosity that, at least, feels a little better than her usual indifference. “I’m Tirza, your sister.” This is also stated in that can-only-be-true voice, even though she only has her own speculation.
There's enough about this girl that is echoed in Tirza that they could be sisters, by blood or otherwise.
TIRZA
@[spectra]
@[The Monsters] hi hello let's try this again with her equus viperous please!
The ghost does not know that her mother meant to curse her, that she had gone to the magicians with a plea. That she had wanted the ghost to see only bones.
But this stranger is not bones.
And she is not a stranger either.
She is a viper, too. Scales and fangs and galaxies.
Just as the ghost would be if not for the pain of thirst and hunger that plagued the viper.
She says ‘sister’ and the ghost doesn’t know what that means, but she seems to know about the memory without the ghost having to explain it to her. Her name is Tirza, but the mother never bothered to tell the ghost about the children who came before her. She never bothered to tell her anything but the name, the name that meant ghost.
The ghost makes herself the viper so that Tirza can see that they are alike. Is that what it means to be sisters? That they both have skin mottled by scales? They both have teeth whittled into fangs? The ghost-turned-viper turns her head and finds that her hide is doused in galaxies, too.
“Is this what it means to be sisters?” she asks, touching her nose to her own hip and then reaching out to touch her nose to Tirza’s knee. The pain of hunger is too much, though, and her edges soften again. “You’re not dead,” she observes. She turns her head to peer into the darkness. “Everyone else is dead,” she says, something whimsical in the tone. How she wishes she were dead. “Just bones.”
And then she turns her attention back to Tirza. Stranger-turned-sister. “The memory told me my name is Spectra.”
ALL I WANT IS BEACHES FULL OF DEAD BIRDS. A FLOOD OF LIMBS
WASHED UP ONSHORE. SEASCAPES SPARKLING BRIGHT WITH BONE
@[Tirza]
@[The Monsters] i am once again asking you to take the snake
What do you say to someone when they tell you everyone else is dead?
Although Tirza is not particularly interested in any of the others that are in the area, or in the world in general, she’s reasonably sure that most of them are alive. She is, at least, pleased to hear that she is not one of the dead - nor is she appearing as bones. What a waste that would be.
She’d happily strip herself of the galaxies and her viper fangs if it meant removing her parents from her lineage, removing whatever hold they might continue to have on her heart.
But she is not focusing on anything other than the girl in front of her - who touches her before seeming to fade and become something not entirely solid. Not entirely alive? A shiver runs down this mare’s spine and because of it, because of how appropriate it seems for the conversation, she does not immediately notice that her spine is no longer coated with scales - she is a viper no more.
It will be noticed later, when she goes to feed. When she stretches and cannot reach as far. Perhaps she will miss it, for a time.
For now, though, she thinks of their mother and how much she likes the idea of considering Gospel a memory more than something made of flesh and blood.
Tirza wonders too if she could steal some life from a nearby stranger and feed it to her sister, if it would rejuvenate her at all - the effectiveness of that trick hinges on the answer to the question that comes out of her. Her voice is even and she puts some effort into keeping it clinical.
“Are you dead too, Spectra?”
TIRZA
@[spectra]
@[The Monsters] I don't want you to get bored so let's do the thing with her new temporal repairing
The ghost notices immediately when the fangs recede, when they turn dull. One half of her is ghost, one half of her is horse. There is no viper. If she stepped back into the living body, there would be no scales, there would be no reptilian eyes. (But there would still be the pain of hunger and of thirst.)
No, the ghost is not dead.
“No, sister,” the ghost tells Tirza, her tone mournful. So mournful. “No, Tirza sister, ghosts cannot die.” She has longed for death. She has begged for it. But this is as close as the ghost has gotten, hidden away from the hunger. Still, she is not protected from the sadness of it. She is not protected from the Memory.
She inches closer to Tirza sister and lays her ghost head on the living hip. The only living thing for so many miles. The only living thing except for the Memory. “You and me and the Memory are the only living things in the whole world.”
The ghost closes her eyes. She slips back into her corporeal form, the solid equine form, no longer the viper. She swallows and it burns all the way down her throat. Oh, it burns something so dreadful and she slides back into her ghost skin.
“It is such a terrible thing, to be alive,” she mutters, “I am so tired, Tirza sister.”
ALL I WANT IS BEACHES FULL OF DEAD BIRDS. A FLOOD OF LIMBS
WASHED UP ONSHORE. SEASCAPES SPARKLING BRIGHT WITH BONE
Tirza almost spooks when Spectra moves forward to lay her head upon Tirza’s now non-scaled hip. She holds herself still, reminding herself that physical contact by itself will not hurt her. She relaxes herself practically by force, growing still so as to not jostle or shift Spectra unnecessarily. It is good to know that her sister is not dead, even if she is a ghost - even if she does not sound particularly happy about the fact that she is alive.
She listens to Spectra’s strange words, wondering if Gravy would be on the list of living things. She does not ask this yet, though. Later there could be an introduction, later they could see. The three of them could be a family and they could thrive without the presence of anyone else. No memories, none of the dead.
Worry, a relatively new emotion to the galaxy-pointed mare, rises up when Spectra remarks on how terrible it is to be alive. Tirza turns her head to look at the ghost-girl, frowning. “Do you want to rest? I can keep watch.” This feels like an odd thing to offer so she follows it up in an encouraging voice. “Tell me what I can do to help, sister.” Tirza is not good at offering assistance and she needs guidance. She does not instinctively know what needs to be done but she feels the drive to do something. She wants to help, which of itself is a bit of a miracle.
TIRZA
@[spectra]
@[The Monsters] I am once again asking you to do the thing with Tirza's temporal repairing
