Why does this feel so familiar and yet strange at the same time? This loneliness that is sweeping across her and elevating the beat of her heart. Anxiety is swimming through her mind as her reptilian eyes peer nervously across the kingdom. For the last few years she has relied on him - only him - and has pressed herself into his warm body when the nights were cool. He wants her to venture out, however, and to create a life for herself because she has always been too afraid to. Eight provided her a sanctuary, a home, that she can always feel secure in so why does she still feel so alone and afraid?
A trembling breath is drawn in as she takes a slow, hesitant step forward. The sunlight dapples across her body giving a sheen to her onyx scales when she moves. Voices in the distance reach her but she doesn't find the source. From afar Shiya observes the crowds that have gathered inside the Valley's formidable walls of mountains. There are families here. There is love and devotion and power. It tries to draw her into its midst but she is too meek and too quiet. She only knows what Eight has twisted into her mind: compassion, laughter, companionship. Shiya lacks the passion of a warrior that both her parents possessed (she barely knew her mother and never met father). Vulgaris, too, was strong and he fueled her, but even his name has dissipated with the use of Pazuzu and Eight's magic.
Her mind is nearly a blank slate. She hasn't lived enough to figure herself out or change. What hurt and pain had weighed her down once has evaporated, leaving her knowing only the present: Eight and the Valley and Meadow.
Was having her mind cleared a curse or a blessing?
Unaware of what has transpired in the deep corridors of her thoughts has left Shiya to know joy in a far greater emphasis than most others. Despite the anxiety that is swallowing her now as an outsider, her heart knows only happiness.
Fennick knew a little about uncertain footing. His life had changed rapidly this year, and he felt his mind catching up in leaps and bounds. Sometimes he was ahead, sometimes he was behind. In the distance, Demian and Eight’s firewall blazed, and Fennick watched if for a long time. He felt his healing tattoo prickle under his eye, and wondered what the next year would hold.
Surely, it could not be as busy as this one?
Somehow, Fennick couldn’t bring himself to believe that. His gut told him that his life was no longer simple. To his own surprise, he carried this knowledge with grace, and didn’t try to shy away from it. Perhaps, he had grown a little alongside his home. A man instead of a boy? The great black stallion chuckled low in his throat.
No, that was completely absurd.
With a snap he spread his oversized black wings. They were ginormous, and even held above his head the tips trailed along the ground. Tight against his back the longest feathers dripped nearly to his fetlocks. His back ached with the weight of carrying them, but he knew soon his muscles would adjust. They were appropriate for who he was now. They were beautiful, unbelievable, but a heavy burden. He was incredibly proud to carry them, but equally humbled beside them. They were more glorious than him by far, for they were of the Valley, and he, a humble servant.
Fennick inhaled deeply, and relished the sting of the snow air.
On the exhale he let his breath out in a whoosh and cast his eyes over his home. They were self contained now, the Valley all but its own little universe. Yet, there was one he didn’t recognize, like an unknown star in a familiar sky. Fennick narrowed his eyes. Surely someone couldn’t have crossed the fire wall already?
Without stopping to think it through Fennick moved towards her, picking his away through the deep snow. It would have been easier to fly, but he found he preferred to walk, and saved the angel of death routine for serious situations. When Fennick was close enough he called out to her.
“Hey! Are you —“ With a grunt the large man stumbled over a hidden log and nearly went down, his feet flailing to keep his body upright and snow scattering in his wake. A moment later Fennick regained his footing and finished his sentence.
“New?” He added lamely with a sheepish smile. Not one of his prouder moments, but not his worst either. He’d once been so mortified he turned to stone.
I swear, does he ever sleep? Or does he just prowl around trying to fucking one-up me by saying hi to all the new people first? He does know Demian isn't handing out gold stars for being pony of the month, right?
"Fennick." I give him a half-hearted grumpy look. Team Gallows is not doing so well. Pregnancy is seriously throwing me off my game. Still, I can always enjoy knowing things before everyone else. When life steals your pleasure (like the enjoyment I get out of my hawk wings) it usually leaves one or two to mollify you with. "She's not new. But she thinks she is."
I give the girl a curious look, my annoyance evaporating. After all I don't honestly dislike Fennick. He has the Valley pulsing through his veins the same as I do, and I can grudgingly admire him for that. But the girl is what pulled me over. Her mind is a curious thing, as if it has been laid clean. Only children have minds like this. And oh, how quickly does the world spoil them.
"Hello Shiya. I'm Gallows and that drop dead gorgeous male over there is Fennick." My next words are gentler than perhaps I've ever spoken. Thank the gods I could kick Fennick's ass if he ever tells anyone. "Is there something we can do for you?"
I ruffle my feathers and wait, trying to appear non threatening. Luckily, that is always something I have been good at.
G A L L O W S We must all hang together or, assuredly, we shall all hang separately.
What has happened since she last stepped out of hiding? Eight's scent is less prominent and she wonders if he still reigns. There are different smells flooding her and swimming through her mind. Everything is so different and yet looks the same. She has heard rumors of a wall, but she never left and so she finds herself barricaded in, confused and bewildered.
Her slit pupils drink in her surroundings and take note of the wall spurting from the earth. Uncertain of her fate Shiya simply looks ahead and contemplates her place in the Valley. She is no one, nothing. Her heart has lied with Eight for so long (or so he has led her to believe) but she knows that it cannot be mutual. He is so powerful and so desirable and what is she in return? Shiya can offer him nothing. Some days she wonders if she can even provide a child (she is unaware that she has four children already). Is she even fertile, or is she entirely a disgrace? Is she a curse cast out to simply poison Beqanna?
Shiya's brows furrow and her lips stretch into a frown. "A disgrace," she murmurs as she recollects her lonely nights filled with staring at the stars.
The dismal sense of loneliness begins to suppress when she hears the cracking of a twig followed by a voice. Her head snaps into the direction from where the disruption came. A stallion is looming nearer and he's seemingly proud and gallant until he stumbles over a fallen log. "Oh dear," she catches herself saying aloud as she takes a few steps toward him. "Are you---" she's cut off by his question in which she chuckles to. "No, I've been here, but I've been tucked away. I never left," she looks distantly toward a cavern she had been surviving in. There was a serpent in there who slithered across her scales and slept on her. "Are you okay?" She asks him when she withdraws from her reminiscent trance before noticing the approaching mare.
"Oh, hello," a jagged smile touches her lips. It hides that she ever frowned before they arrived. It hides the confusion that races through her when Gallows also answers Fennicks question. Shiya shrugs it away; maybe Eight mentioned her to other Valley members, but then why is her mind feeling so vulnerable and open? The girl shrinks away from the sensation rushing through her veins. The smile wavers and her reptilian eyes reveal her concern. "How do you know me?" Her question is barely more than a whisper when she looks between Fennick and Gallows. She looks more of a lost child than an adult in this moment.
Be strong, she tells herself, but the self-reassurance is futile as her shaken voice sputters out. "I'm, uh, just looking around I, uh, guess? I'm not sure." She swallows the lump in her throat "Is Eight still around?" He is always around. He will protect her and assure her that all is well.
i'm going to burn this world down in her name with flame and terror
"Eight is most certainly still around." His low toned voice filled the air smoothly as he catches the tail end of their conversation and steps out from the trees and towards the trio. Smiling a small smile of greeting towards Fennick and Gallows, he moves to stand next to the older mare, silently noticing the rounded state of her belly and raising a brow before turning to look at the new face they had all just found. Had it been an appropriate time, Demian would have focused his attention solely on Gallows and wondered aloud whether or not she was quite ancient to be with child.
But instead he chose to keep his mouth shut until a better time came along. After all, they all were here in order to see who this young one was. "Did the rise of the wall wake you?" He had sadly not made it to their little group in time to see Fennick stumble clumsily. He had been working with the dark black stallion in improving his confidence and self esteem, but even Demian had come to understand early on in life that a trait of awkward would always stick with the body it had been born with. Not that it was a bad thing though.
And that wasn't to say he wouldn't of found it slightly amusing. It had always been hard for him to not release a chuckle when he saw others become tipsy turvy while in a rush to get somewhere. It had been one of his biggest faults as a child amongst friends. "I'm Demian, king of the valley. Eight is now our magician and protector and I'm sure one of us could find him for you." He allows his smile to curve at the corners of his lips a bit more to show her he meant no harm. The surrounding air of seriousness, and even the way gallows voice tilted softly he assumed it was best to show the same stance.
Fennick grinned widely at Gallows’ approach. Sure, he had just fallen over a log, but if Fennick wasn’t just the tiniest bit intimidated by the mare he might have said she waddled. Pregnancy had a way of making even the scariest mares seem like slightly sweet, grouchy messes. He knew better than to say that to them, however. He had been hollered at one to many times for implying they were anything but perfect.
Sure, standing up might be the world’s biggest accomplishment when you were 10 months gone, but god help the poor bastard who implied they needed help.
“How’s the baby treating you, Gallows?” He replied, adopting a slippery sweet tone that implied he thought it was not treating her very well. Still, he did it with affection, and he assumed she would know that through her very invasive “powers of observation.” Sure, he could turn into anyone he saw, but he would still have no idea went on between their ears. The world was ironic like that.
Say what you will, however, Gallows’ “powers of observation” (or perhaps she just recognized this mare) came in handy. Fennick nodded with interest, and a little concern. Crap. Had this mare really been here the whole time and nobody had noticed? Who the hell was in charge of their security?
Oh wait.
Fennick winced. Without a General or a high ranking officer, that would probably be him. He really needed to step up his game. Not that this mare seemed particularly threatening. If anything, she seemed a little scared. He looked at her and tried to smile in a way that wasn’t ironic, smirky, or sheepish. He needed to dig deep, and he wasn’t sure he accomplished it.
“Yeah, I’m just fine. I just…do that.” He trailed off at the end, realizing that the hole he made for himself just kept getting deeper. Fennick used to be remarkably graceful. Then he had turned to goo and been reborn with the ability to turn himself into anything but a smoother version of himself. Finally, just to make sure his grace couldn’t be salvaged, these giant wings had come along effectively screwing him over until he learned to manage them.
Gallows made their introductions, thus saving the job from Fennick’s clumsy hands. He did, however, give her a sharp look, trying to figure out if she was mocking him. From past experience chances were pretty good that she was. Plus, it was really hard to say “drop dead gorgeous male” without making it sound ridiculous.
Luckily, any inappropriate report was silenced when Demian appeared. Fennick’s eyes widened in surprise then squinted questioningly. How was the Valley king that sneaky? Fennick was pretty sure every conversation they had started with Demian sneaking up on him. The notable exceptions were, of course, the day Fennick crashed the king’s coronation and the day that king erected a wall of cosmic fire. That wall couldn’t sneak up on anyone.
The planet next to there’s already saw them coming.
Fennick turned his attention back to the mare, and admired her scales and strange reptilian eyes.
“What should we call you?” He asked her with curiosity.
“Hey you seems a little impersonal.” Another smile, and another unwanted joke. This was fun right?
Well damn, I hadn't mean to frighten the poor kid. Comfort and tact are not exactly my strong points. It's a good thing my son was so laid back and hard headed because if he'd needed my sympathy, we would have had problems.
Demian joins the group, and I greet him grumpily, well aware of his thoughts. Ancient. Really. As if I look a day over ten. Besides, he ought to know that some stallions will bang anyone, Carnage among them. We can't all be complete prudes like a certain Valley king I know.
And Fennick! Gods, these boys will be the death of me. I return his sickly sweet question with a nip in the air near him. Stallions ought to be the ones to carry the children since they are so worked up about fucking anything that moves and spreading their seed around and then thinking they are fun for teasing you!
I turn my attention back to the girl. Time enough to teach Demian and Fennick manners.
"I don't know you personally." I say evenly. I find it's best to be minimal about my abilities to read minds. No reason to freak people out or put them on their guard. "And Demian is right. We can get Eight for you."
I study her reptilian features with interest. Her outward appearance is at odds with the blank slate of her mind. I frown, wishing I had the full story. It's not often that I am stumped and it is not a feeling I enjoy.
G A L L O W S We must all hang together or, assuredly, we shall all hang separately.
