"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
Bonfires, poetry, and livin' life right and there's
Beaches, boats, sailing, togetherness
The feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
My mind is an eclipse of knowledge, magic shadowing the light of my understanding; these past few months have become an eternity of blackouts and hallucinations, from seeing a child in the fires, to making love to Pomona, to avoiding the war, to Straia’s departure, to the fire-child’s birth - not from Pomona, but from the mare I mistakenly made love to. My life is a painting and these last few months have just been blind slashes with poorly mixed colours, the beauty underneath is hidden by the chaos of an unforeseen magic having its way with my family and I. I’m still not clear on why Straia is gone, or how she will never meet her niece - I pray daily for her return, for my only daughter could use a mother figure. Her birth-mother dead and her should-be mother continuously disappeared, along with her half-brother Bergamot. I miss them like the sun misses the moon, but with this eclipse of knowledge and magic I must cling to what’s left to me, what’s left of me -
Kagerus.
Presently, her little darling nose presses into the crease of my elbow, nibbling there, rooting for milk that I certainly cannot provide. Her nutmeg eyes bore into mine, so like the eyes of my mother that occasionally, I forget just who I’m raising. Leaning over the child, I whisper words of encouragement, and muse over how strange it is to finally have a babe to raise. Bergamot was a blessing to Pomona and I, and we did our best with him - but I lived in the Chamber, and he and his mother in the Amazons. There was a time when he came to live with me, to serve with me - but not all things work the way we dream they will. And hungry little Kagerus is just proof of that.
Coaxing the little splotched darling ever onward, we make slow work of the journey from the Cove to the ‘Zons. Upon finding my daughter suckling at the teats of her dead mother, I knew that time was short and that there was only one place I could truly take her. And while it is with a certain dread that I lead Kagerus to the Jungle, I know it is not because I fear reprimand for my bold approach after our kingdom’s war; it is because I know that deep within, Pomona lives, but I shall never find her unless she wills it to be.
Shaking these thoughts from my aging mind, I halt our journey just on the edge of the Jungle border. Kagerus continues rooting at my softer regions, though to no avail. Her quiet yet demanding bleats for nourishment raise the colourful birds from their perches on the border, and although I know this will be enough to summon a sister, I add my smokey voice to the cacophony, calling gently for aid.
Once upon a time, Lagertha rescued a little girl from her monstrosity of a father, and that little girl grew up to be her greatest treasure. That, however, was a one time thing, and at the behest of one of the Sisters - a bloodrider at the time. She might endeavor to adopt again, but at the moment, she is far too busy to mother another child and hasn’t the emotional capability while Sette is missing.
Sprigs of green are beginning to push through the charred undergrowth, though it will be many years before they grow to be the intimidating gatekeepers that they once were. She feels so… exposed. As if the mystery of the Amazonians have been burnt away and peeled back, leaving only the flimsiest of veils.Time will eventually heal this land and the fire’s scars, but without a magician or someone with plant abilities to encourage the growth, it will be painfully slow. At least the birds are back. A Jungle without noise is an eerie place.
Lagertha is actually on her way out of the Jungle to visit the Dale and the Falls when she encounters the stallion and filly at the border’s edge. Well, encounters isn’t exactly the right word - it is hard to miss them in such an open space. So the iron gray Khaleesi alters her course and heads towards them, wrinkling her nose when the smell of the Chamber becomes evident. She would be surprised if it were a diplomat, or anyone else out on Chamber business. From what she’s heard, Killdare isn’t too keen on starting a new relationship. Which is just fine with her. Although with a child in tow, she imagines that the stallion won’t be too much of a threat, and as she draws close enough and the age becomes evident, she decides that only half of her metal armor is necessary. Just in case the girl is some sort of distraction.
“What do you want?” Lagertha asks in an even tone - not quite hostile, but definitely not warm and welcoming, either. She glances down at the hungry girl, and then back to the stallion. If he was looking for a wet nurse, she cannot freely offer one of her women. It doesn’t really work like that.
Bonfires, poetry, and livin' life right and there's
Beaches, boats, sailing, togetherness
The feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
My heart hurts as I gaze upon the desolation of my birth home, and I ache knowing that the paths walked by myself and Rodrik and Rayelle will never be there for Kagerus to walk. A part of me rationalizes that she will forge her own path, as she should; but as my amber gaze makes love to the despondency that has become the Jungle, I simply cannot bring myself to be glad. She is my home, and when she burns, I do too.
Although I sight the iron mare approaching first, Kagerus is not far behind. Her little dished head reappears from under my gray-flecked barrel, nostrils flaring when she scents the woman. She turns a nutmeg eye to me, as if to ask, ‘are we safe?’ I say nothing to that; instead, I step just slightly closer to my daughter.
It’s not terribly surprising that the pair of us aren’t thrown a party upon arrival - we, or at least I, stink of the Chamber, which just so happens to be their very recent enemy. Complications, complications. Still, it is more than I hoped when the intimidating mare only questions us, instead of outright killing us on the spot. I would certainly empathize with such a reaction, but still, it’s a great relief to be doing some explaining, rather than some running.
“My name is Kavi,” I reply in my whisky tones - aged to perfection. “And this is Kagerus, my daughter.” The little overo girl watches the unnamed woman fearlessly, clearly unphased by the muscles and the scars and the tattoos. I smile at her before continuing. “We come in search of home - in my case, I am returning home to retire. I was born of Kagerou, a long-ago queen; and as you can see here,” I gesture with my salt-and-pepper nose to the rose-gold chevron tattoo which encircles my right fore-thigh, “I have been joined to a sister of yours, Pomona.” My leopard-tattoos are just behind my ear and are less easily demonstrated, so I figured one was enough. Kagerus, curiously, only carries the heritage mark of Kagerou, just behind her left eye; I have yet to find a chevron tattoo. But back to the matter at hand!
Clearly my throat in a very acceptable grandpa way, I look kindly upon the even-toned woman. “I am more than happy to become a manservant to the Jungle, as she was very kind to me as a child, and I would like to return the favour. Furthermore, I think it would be appropriate for Kagerus to grow up here, as I did.”
A warm smile floats to my lips, but staggers slightly when Kagerus unglues herself from my side and approaches Lagertha hesitantly, but not in fear. I hold my breath as the child creeps into the woman’s bubble of space, and gingerly attempts to nudge her soft flank.
By this time, my smile has turned into something of a grimace, and I try haltingly to excuse the dear child. “I’m terribly sorry, she’s just - well, she’s hungry.” My tail swings anxiously behind me. “It’s not your responsibility to feed her, I’m sorry that she doesn’t know better yet.” My amber gaze drifts unconsciously towards Kagerus, and I look upon her with pity. I know that Pomona is somewhere in this Jungle - it is simply the matter of finding her that may very well be her downfall. But I refuse to allow harm to come to her.
Snapping my elderly eyes back to Lagertha, I figure I might as well add a little tid bit of information that could very well sway her towards our cause. “I took no side in the war. I don’t believe in war as a rule, never mind fighting against my home... I hope you can believe me.”
It’s not so much that the stallion reeks of the Chamber (and even then, her feelings about its members are mixed. It is only Lupei she despises with every fiber of her being, and would kill without a moment’s hesitation), but that she does not easily trust anyone. A healthy skepticism, along with a cool head, are the foundation of her personality. Trust (insert comment here about abandonment issues) does not come easily to the Iron Queen.
Her flint-like gaze studies the ageing stallion silently, listening to his story without a flicker of emotion. At the appropriate time, her eyes wander to his tattoo, and notes the name Pomona. She remembers the mare, vaguely, though the Khaleesi hasn’t personally seen her in years. If she had, she might be able to put a more distinct image to the name, but right now all she can remember is that the woman had wings made of light. She believes. So many have come and gone. It is the way of the Jungle.
A manservant, huh? Well they don’t have many of those - or any, actually - and hadn’t for awhile. Herds are popping up left and right and Lagertha doesn’t believe that many stallions would ‘sacrifice’ that freedom (nevermind the double standard, that’s a whole other story) to stay with the mare they love. Then the filly detaches herself from her guardian and wanders over, sticking her nose where milk would be if Lagertha were a mother. She isn’t, of course. And though she may be stern and logical, the Iron Lady isn’t cruel. Her nose dips down to nudge the top of the filly’s head gently, blowing her warm breath on it in greeting. “She’s fine. I can’t help her, though. I haven’t had children in awhile.”
Kavi tries to plead his case, and she cuts him off before it becomes pathetic. “I know. You’re old and you bear no fresh wounds. At your age, it would take more time than usual to heal.” Her tail swishes back and forth, whisking away the flies and the heat. “You are both welcome to stay, Kavi. I am Lagertha, Queen of the Jungle. If anyone gives you trouble, tell them you have my permission to be here.” She pauses, and feels the need to say the next part, just because he was from the Chamber. “Keep in mind that if anything does happen, you will answer to me, and I am not known for my leniency. Now if you will excuse me - ”
Lagertha smiles thinly. It is not a threat, it is a promise. She can’t be too careful these days. She continues on her way, past the duo, who now have free reign in her slowly healing home.
