+- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum)
+-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1)
+--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72)
+---- Forum: River (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=82)
+---- Thread: [private] Forever is never enough (/showthread.php?tid=29915)
Forever is never enough - Brochturach - 07-18-2021
One day you will find yourself looking into the nether and emptiness is all you will find. One day, if you continue as you have been, you will lay yourself wearily upon this Earth you so cherish and take your last breath. Death will come to you and you will be alone like I am. Do not be like me, Broch. Do not spend your life fighting other people's battles and forgetting the war that wages inside you. Do not fights wars for the world that you are not willing to fight yourself.
Silence. It was such a heavy thing. The greenery filled the void around with lively shades and occasional blooms. Water rushed unburdened by restraint, with only one destination in mind. The sun rose and set and traded places with the moon. Life continued evolving around the sooty beast who remained stoically alone, lifeless amidst a world thriving with it. One might hope for the solitude he seemed to find within himself, until the peered inside his mind to find what lay beneath the visage that seemed to rest so peacefully by the churning river. Beneath that dome was a world of regret and dissatisfaction. For fear of lingering too long on the negative, the story needed a beginning to lead to his current existence. The massive beast was no monster, despite his size and bulk. His was not a past of misdeeds he was now finding the time to regret. Though he did have regrets, his past was largely burdened with grief and stories that were left marked and unfinished. Questions plagued his mind daily, full of the curiosity that followed wondering where the bonds of his past found themselves now. He was in strange lands again. This was no unique story. Brochturach was a wanderer if he was known for anything.
He lay as if he slept, though that pleasure had not befallen him in many days. His bones ached with weariness for the many miles pressed upon them by the well honed muscles that clutched so tightly to them. The crest of red fringe atop his pate glistened with sweat and dust from the path he'd traveled. There had been nights when he'd wondered just why he pushed on. Unlike the river beside him, he had no destination in mind. His body drove him where his eyes spied and his mind had little involvement in the matter. It was his way. When the place he called home was no longer such, he moved on. It was a natural inclination. Instinctual. He would earn his scars and press on. When he no longer had loved ones to keep him in a place, he left. It was a natural as day becoming night and night becoming day again. He had stopped questioning. He had left when he could not find his mother and father after they fled the great war of his homelands. He had fought the good fight, assuming he would find them safely with the others who had evacuated. It was after the war that he learned that the herds had divided and some had wandered where others did not know. Without them why should he stay? So he'd left.
Then he'd found a new home after wandering aimlessly for weeks. That story was a greater burden to consider and his lids flew up, blue eyes hardening like ice within their sockets. His loss had been great. Far more was taken from him than he'd hoped in a lifetime and he did his best to keep such thoughts from his mind. Very few ever gained what he'd had and he doubted they had ever lost it. So he stirred, massive limbs drawing his body up as he peered out over the rushing waters. A soft breeze wafted through his feathered nape and for a moment he could imagine he was not in a strange land but back in the mountains he had so cherished. For a moment he imagined the tantalizing scent that had been trapped in distant memories for so long he'd almost forgotten it. He could never forget, he reminded himself. There was too much branded into the core of his memories to ever escape from it.
He found a soft, roguish smile tilting the corners of his blood stained lips. It was just enough to hint that he was still capable of any feeling at all. He had always been lively, open and honest. The years might have tarnished his nature a bit, but Brochturach had never strayed far from the morals his family had instilled in him. He perhaps tried too hard to pretend that he was affected by the world, but deep down he could never undo his own nature. He could never escape what had drawn her in and would he want to? For a breath in time the world had been all but his. He remembered the laughter, the bright blue eyes that had dazzled him so and the curiosity that had piqued her interest when he'd first spoken. For a breath in time he had wanted things he'd never considered having in his life again. Family. Home. Happiness. That dream had been dispelled before it had even reached its peak. So here he stood, years between himself and those bygone times. Drawing in a heavy breath, he continued watching the rushing river even as he wished it would take him with it.
@lilliana
RE: Forever is never enough - lilliana - 07-19-2021
FOR THE DANCING AND THE DREAMING /
THROUGH ALL LIFES SORROWS AND DELIGHTS /
I'LL KEEP YOUR LAUGH INSIDE ME /
It had been pure luck that Lilliana had heard a dun stallion conversing with a trio of mares about a weanling that he had encountered. She had been out in the Common Lands for a few weeks now, searching for any sign of her friend. They had gotten separated when they came through the Gates of the Afterlife together and the chestnut mare couldn't shake the feeling that Neverwhere would likely be roaming the Forest. If she wasn't there, Lilliana had considered that perhaps the former Khaleesi had returned to her kingdom.
Perhaps she had returned to Nerine.
But no, that didn't seem to fit either. Nev had only taken the throne at the request of Heartfire and though Lilli had never asked, she had wondered if her friend had held on to her crown merely out of spite (and the few privileges that being a monarch brought). She doubted that the dappled female would have returned to the moorlands of the North. It was that doubt that kept Lilliana out here - roaming between the Forest and the Meadow and the River - instead of returning to Taiga. Not yet, not until she found Neverwhere.
Her conversation with the golden brute had revealed nothing informative. But it had been Neverwhere, she learned. A gray filly with shadow wings tattoed on her shoulders and an old scar across her haunches. Perhaps he had meant it as a jest but the unfamiliar horse had teased to the others in the group, "I've met nesting goshawks friendlier than that filly." (Her smile had tightened and Lilliana took that moment to excuse herself from the trio.) The stud had mentioned that he had encountered the outspoken foal near the River and so that is where had she had gone. The spring thaws had nearly doubled the rapids and as she moved along the bank, Lilli couldn't recall a time that she had seen the water levels rise this high. But then, how long had she been gone?
There were times that she was still adjusting to the sun.
She would wake in the middle of the night, feeling lost and overwhelmed with a fear that it wouldn't rise.
Clearing her mind of those thoughts now, she focused on trying to find the little silver dapple known as Neverwhere. The Meadow was pleasant this time of year with its sweet grazing, she mused, and there was the possibility that one of the nomads gathered there might have come across her. Lilliana glanced up towards the sky and peered in the direction of the sun. There were a few hours of daylight left. The swift-moving rapids beside her seemed to encourage her; the day was fair and bright. The path was inviting and deciding to take a chance (something she rarely did anymore), she continued to follow it. Just until the next bend, and then she would gather her thoughts on what to do next.
Perhaps she should return to Taiga. If Brazen or Eurwen could be persuaded, maybe they would help her in searching for their missing companion.
Maybe -
Lilliana stopped, and it was only the sound of the rushing water that hid the sound she made. A sharp intake of breath. Her blue eyes lingered first on the dark-colored tail of the stranger only a few strides away from her. They moved over the rise of his haunch and rose higher, finally halting on the vibrant red feathers atop his poll. No, she thought. No, this couldn't be.
Malachi had said that you were dead.
(The memories come unbidden and strong, like a summer storm. There is her silver brother coming in flashes. 'We have to go, Lilliana.' And she had refused. The first time she had denied her family anything. 'No. No. We just need another day. He'll come back. He has to come back.' She had pleaded with Malachi. His face had softened and then darkened in a way that Lilliana would later learn was grief. 'He isn't coming back, Lilli.')
"Broch?" she says tentatively from behind him, thinking that this is just her Magic playing some kind of trick. The Warlander was dead. (But she had died, too. And feeling the spring sunshine on her back, the suddenly deafening sound of the water nearby, Lilliana knows she is very much alive.)
"Brochturach?" she asks again, her voice lifting and lilting in all the wrong places - her tongue tripping over the name - as the laughing girl on the Pass had done all those years ago.
for the dancing and the dreaming - jonathon young
image credit to footybandit
@Brochturach
RE: Forever is never enough - Brochturach - 07-23-2021
Eyes that had been so defiantly void of emotion for so long closed for a moment. The world around him disappeared as it did so often. It was a moment in time where he imagined that the past was the present and nothing had ever changed. Years had not split time and space, driving him further from all he he'd wanted. He can hear his name on her lips, a sound he's never forgotten to this day. It is as clear as the first time she spoke it. There's never been a memory where she said it with the flawless brogue of his kin. She fumbles it so sweetly, so innocently. He drags in a breath to calm his racing heart. Her scent lingers upon the air around him, so soft and ethereal. His body freezes, ears swiveling atop his dome. There is something about this scent that is more than his memory could ever conjure. Lashes rapidly raise and the deep blue of his eyes follow the swift turning of his heavy skull.
He tried to tell himself that he was just imagining this again. How many times had he imagined seeing her again? How many scenarios has his errant heart dreamt up? He had been a fool in his younger years and tried forgetting, thinking it would be easier without the memory. That had done nothing to erase a single moment that had been locked away in his heart, despite his heads desire to erase them. He breathed in another gust of crisp spring air. She was here. His eyes were not betraying him. Her chestnut coat was just as vibrant as it had been all those years ago. Her eyes were just as clear that sparkling blue he remembered. It was hard to see where the years had touched her at all. In this moment all he'd ever hoped for came crashing back in waves. The herd he had lost. What had become of them? Since the challenge he had spent so many tines wondering. Though the feathers covered it up, he had lived with both the physical scars and the regret for so many years. It didn't matter that he'd nearly died. That he had spent long weeks on the precipice of death and in the care of strangers, no less; what mattered now, just as much as it had back then, was that he'd sworn to protect Lilli and her family and he had failed. They had already lost so much. When he lost the only place they had ever called home, he had betrayed every trust they had placed in him.
He swallowed reflexively, not daring to take his eyes off of her and uncertain of just what kind of reunion this would be. He would give his life if he could go back and change things. He would give more if he could have gone back and atleast told her how he'd felt. There were too many years between then and now to pretend that she might still harbor something in her heart for him. She most likely had a mate and grown bairns by now. Himself? These years had been spent brutally punishing himself for the failure that caused the chasm of space and time between them. It wasn't hard for him to imagine that this might not be the warm welcome that he'd wished for so many times over the years. Why then did he still feel the urge to embrace her as he had so many moons past? Why did he feel this gnawing desire in the pit of his stomach, to simply touch her to know that she was real and not some phantom of mind that was simply displayed more surreal than the past imaginings?
He'd been told so many times that he was too hard on himself. Ava had often told him that she was certain Lilli did not hate him. What could Ava have known though? She knew nothing of the chestnut mare beyond the few stories he'd told her and even then he'd left the most precious moments at bay. But the old mare thought too highly of Broch to ever think anyone could think ill of him. While he'd allowed her to speak on the subject, he'd never truly believed that Lilliana could harbor anything but disappointment in him and what might had been. He dragged in a breath and drew upon that internal strength and will that kept him in a state of existence, since he could not say he'd been living for a long time. His lips curled and that warmth of his nature pooled into his blue eyes as he finally mustered the courage to say something. "I dinnae think ahd e'er see ye again, lass. Fer ah moment ah thought ye were ah ghost or some trick o tha eye."
He dipped his skull to her, stepping forward until he was close enough to feel the coolness of her breath as the warmth of it died away in the air between them. He hesitated, again uncertain of her feelings or whether she was even receptive to his presence. He wondered if it would be too much, to simply feel her skin and know that she truly was more than a memory. Apprehension fled from him. If she was angry with him and told him to leave, he would. If she was taken or uninterested, he would not press the matter. But in this moment he had to touch her to know she was real. Perhaps he'd be damning himself to some pain that would he'd be hard pressed to get over, but he had waited so long for something he'd never truly believed would ever happen. He was allowed one touch. He was allowed to melt into her and this moment as if he was certain he'd never get another. He was allowed to pretend that there was still affection for him somewhere deep in her heart, unblemished by the failures of his past and the time that might have dulled it.
His body moved as if of its own accord. First it was but the gentle brush of the hair that draped his massive chest, gliding ever so gently against her smaller frame. Then it was his massive skull, lowering until he could feel the slender curve of her own. His slid it lower until it rested fully against her own, his nostrils flaring as he dragged her breath into his lungs and exhaled his own with a sigh. His eyes fell closed as he stood frozen, unwilling and unable to move. "Lillayahnuuh." He whispered, his brogue drawing out the syllables in a way he'd always known they shouldn't and yet could not help. "How ah wished so maneh times that ahd have died when ah should have, thahn been ferced ta live sah maneh yeers without ye."
@lilliana
RE: Forever is never enough - lilliana - 07-25-2021
She expects the stranger to turn and she expects to be wrong.
Lilliana has seen his face on a hundred strangers and yet each time his ghost appears, it vanishes before she can grasp it. Much like their time in Beyond, he is always gone too soon. (The closest she has ever come to finding him was on the edge of the roguish smile of a stranger.) And she knows this is just her heart being foolish. Her head lifts and so does her chin, giving the slender chestnut an almost defiant air.
She is ready to be wrong.
But she isn't ready for him.
Her blue eyes widen, suddenly understanding that this wasn't hope getting the best of her. This wasn't a dream or even her gift projecting something that she hadn't ever let herself imagine. But there he is, standing as noble and proud as she remembered him. Her bewildered gaze traces over him for a moment, starting at the blaze of red feathers, coming down to the patches of white on his face and then down to the deep gray of his coat. (How had she forgotten that? In the years that had passed, he burned brighter and brighter in her mind until he became a hue like her own brilliant red.)
And then her mind is burning with so many questions.
All the things she had never gotten to ask.
All those feelings that she had shoved as deep as the grave that she had so often imagined him in.
Was he angry with her? He had spoken his feelings for her and she had said nothing at all. Lilliana had never forgotten what Broch said to her on the dawn that he had left for the fight. Those words he spoke about how if things had gone differently, he would have done something about them already. That he hoped that he the chance to come back and make up for that. When she had learned of his death, she wondered if Broch had laid dying and thought of her with contempt. She wondered if he was angry with her for being unable to speak of her feelings, for being so unsure of herself that she couldn't be certain of anything else.
(There is the flash of his life lived; the face of an older mare, the aching feeling of loneliness. It is how she knows that he is real. His pain almost hollows her out.)
He smiles softly and it nearly undoes her.
Her dark lips attempt to move, to say something but she can't find the words. Broch speaks (no, some part of her reasons. He doesn't speak - he sings in that beautiful dialect as he always has) about thinking that she might be a ghost and the slender chestnut with her silence might be as haunting as one. How? is the question that she wants to ask over and over, that she wants to pour into him so that Brochturach might explain how a dead man can be resurrected so easily. But then he takes a step towards her and while a large part of her remains so afraid that touching him will break the illusion, that he'll touch her and the spell would be broken; she can't stand to have him so near and not touch him.
When he comes close and drops his head, she takes a quiet step forward. She reaches for him, still hesitant but the drive to know that he was alive overcame her. Her touch wavers when it first grazes lightly against his skin, reaching up to his chestnut forehead. There is a warmth radiating from him - that same light she had seen radiating from his blue eyes - and then the slender female presses her forehead against his own, finally accepting the inevitable.
"They said you were dead," she finally tells him in a shaky voice. "Rougaru. Malachi." Lilliana quietly explains, "He went to the Summit to look for you." The chestnut closes her eyes, because she can't be angry with her older brother when they had so recently made their peace. But she hadn't been allowed. Even after everything that had happened, they were still trying to protect her from the horrors and tragedies of their world.
The image of her silver sibling swims in her mind's eye, remembering the way that the red clay and the blood from the battlegrounds had stained his coat. "All he found was blood," she continues with a soft tremor, "He said that there was too much - that - that there was no - " and then she can't bear to say anymore.
@Brochturach