"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
Bound for trouble from the start I've been walking through this old world in the dark
The gates of Heaven. They always beckon him home. And he would answer the call, eventually. Where else could he possibly go? However there was one other stop along the way. He doesn’t know why, he never knows why. Like a moth to a flame. The Heavens burn but the Meadow was like a lighthouse, calling him to safely land and gather himself. His lanky golden body moved slowly towards the familiar open grounds. A land full of haunted memories. One of a girl made of glass. The other of a painful reunion which still burns him with shame. Shame of his cowardice.
Magnus had offered to help him. After being tortured at the hands of Carnage, he had been unable to cope. And as much as he had wanted his father’s help, he would not once again be a burden to him. How he stayed alive was a mystery. The infection that had ravaged his body had slowly dissipated and now the eye that had been torn from it’s right socket was simply a blackened sunken hollow. The left eye was still flecked with gold, a small glint that might make one remember a very different stallion. One stronger and braver than he. The open wounds had healed, ugly scars across his body that would never fade. And the mended constellation burned on his flank, the cruel reminder of what he was now. As if he could ever forget.
He had been a broken man when they had set off to the Chamber in search of Atrox. Somehow they had been separated but the truth was that he had left. He was afraid of what he had become and what he might yet still do. All that time that had passed.. It had not healed him. His body had repaired of course but emotionally he was twisted and gutted. And then there was the “gift” Carnage had blessed him with.
It had taken years alone to control the beast within and for the most part he could keep the shifting under control. He was no longer clumsy in another species body, he could think clearly and mind his own thoughts. It was only when his emotions betrayed him that the cage broke open and the bear was released, a volatile and unpredictable thing. He had hoped that the anger and guilt that constantly surged through him would have faded. Out of everything it was the hardest to master. Yet a man can only be beaten down so many times before snapping.
Ledger had finally snapped.
If only he had known that Magnus would have understood. A family curse almost. That inner wrath and self loathing. Maybe then he would have stopped blaming himself. Then again maybe not, for he had been blaming himself for life’s cruelties since the day he had been born. Who would he be without a cross to bare?
His one good eye surveys the scene through tangled creamy tendrils. The afternoon sun was lowering in the sky hinting of the dusk to come. The presence of many bodies before him, milling about and talking gently, is almost soothing. It’s familiar. A thing that’s never changed and would continue long after he was gone. His lips curl faintly into a hint of a smile. No matter the turmoil inside him, the devil and god raging, it was hard not to feel fondness for a place he had secretly missed. It was always good to come home.
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood, when blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud.
The red mare loved her dreams. A mix of memory and fantasy, topped off by the various plants and shrooms she's known to seek out, sometimes it was hard for her to tell was she asleep or not. Today in the waning sun Jah-Lilah was cat napping, dreaming of an ash-brindle mare she came across wandering the plains long ago. She was barely two then, and the mare was a unicorn. It had been the first time she'd seen one outside of her homeland, and she was instantly enchanted. What is it about little girls and unicorns?
Jah-Lilah approached the cloudy mare, she couldn't believe she had came upon one sleeping so soundly in the middle of the day! She was eager to ask the thousands of questions she had for the outland unicorn. She nudged her gently and instantly Jah-Lilah recoiled and pinned her ears. Ewwww, that smell! Can't you smell that smell? The smell of death surrounds you...Jah-Lilah snaps out from her musical nightmare with a shudder. Gotta take the bad with the good when it come to expanding your mind, I suppose. She extends her neck and stretches out like a dog, groaning. That's much better.
She blinks her eyes lazily and shakes all over, looking around. Her eyes rest longer than normal on a lanky honeybee palomino stally. She instantly took notice. He was tall, much taller than her, but well put together. She perked her ears and made her way casually towards him. The feathers knotted in her mane beat against her neck gently, whispering to her, go see him. She was drawn to his story, he didn't have to say a word, it was written all over him. His body was badly scarred, but clearly so were his insides. His eye reminded her of a bird of prey, constantly evaluating, constantly searching. She loved it, she wants to know what he's about. Jah-Lilah herself is a storyteller, a singer. Other's stories interest her just as much, if not more. Anything and anyone out of the normal, she's all over that shit, bruh. She nickers a friendly greeting to him, bobbing her head on approach.
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form. "Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Bound for trouble from the start I've been walking through this old world in the dark
He never dreams. When he does fall asleep, dreading the moment his eyelids close against his will, the nightmares ravage his mind and tear him apart. It had always been so and while now he was use to them coming… It didn’t make it any easier. So he barely slept which only added to the sunken features of his face. There was the potential to be handsome despite the missing eye and the scars, his grittiness apparently made him all the more appealing. There is something about a man that needs to be fixed that made them flock to him. They tried, they tried so hard. He could never be fixed. The other part of fate he had reluctantly accepted. There was no point in even trying.
She has feathers in her hair. They dangle and twirl lightly against her neck and he is entranced by them, dreamcatchers spinning in autumn tresses. How long has it been since he stood so close to another? He remembers Ilka's scream and the wounds across her chest. All because of her soft touch and concern. Regret rocks in the depths of his pale eye. It had been necessary to remove himself from society. It had been a lonely life. So very very lonely. Now though… He had more control. He could keep the bear at bay. He could at least stand in front of her without fearing he would hurt her. As long as he didn’t get angry. That had been Carnage’s true gift, more so than the magic he had stitched into the sinews of his skin. Anger was an emotion he had never been able to grasp or understand when he was younger, so miserable over his agonizing life. The rage made him feel less worthless, less weak. It made him feel.. something other than despair. And deep down even if he refused to admit it, he almost liked the way the fire burned his belly. It had been the most alive he had ever felt. It was shameful. It was dangerous.
A simple tilt of his head acknowledges her soft greeting and then the silence spreads between them. Most might be uncomfortable by the quiet including her. It’s not awkward for him for he and silence are old friends. The sun is slowly starting to sink as he turns the intact part of his face to survey the Meadows before him. Something has been off, the Meadow seems… Off. Different.
”Something’s not right…” His voice is husky and dark and it’s unclear if he’s looking for an answer or simply drifted off once more into his own haunted thoughts.
If I pass this way again, you can rest assured I'll always do my best for her, of that I give my word.
A heaviness hangs all around him like a curtain, but Jah-Lilah does not recoil. She sees his scars, his missing eye, the gaunt frame, and takes it in accordingly. Clearly he's been through the ringer more than once. The universe requires balance, but sometimes it's hard to see the give and take. The silence between them is deafening, but comfortable. Some feel the need to fill the air with words at all times, but Jah-Lilah learned long ago to enjoy her own company just as much as others.
My little fireball is a wanderer. It's hard for her to be still anywhere, and she likes being nomadic. Solo-Dolo. The birds are free, the river is free, the wind is free. She feels more kindred to these things than so many creatures kept in chains, literally or metaphorically. A tiger in captivity is still just a cat in a cage. She looks at him sideways and presumes he knows more about bondage than his fair share. Her ears swivel towards him as he opens is mouth to shatter the quiet, his voice throaty and deep. She tilts her head, contemplating his words, then follows his gaze before speaking absently, "It's all in the mind, you know. Right and wrong, dark and light. Perception is everything, Three-Scars..." Her voice is soft, barely making a ripple in the air.
In a world off steel-eyed death and men fighting to be warm, "Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Bound for trouble from the start I've been walking through this old world in the dark
Is this a new ghost sent to haunt him? A new trial for him to face? How much more did he need to overcome? Did the gods really want his death that badly? She speaks in riddles and his bewilderment expands. It takes him a moment to register the name she bestows upon him, it’s actually quite funny. Three scars. Sounds formidable which he of course is not, not in this form at least. He could almost laugh. Almost.
Perception was in the mind but this was a physical change, laid out before him. There’s a growing dread that’s spreading into his chest, dark fingers squeezing at his heart. ”What has happened to the Gates?” He doesn’t know her name, hasn’t even asked or offered his own. It’s not important. He doesn’t care about his rudeness. He only wants to know the answers, figure out what lies before him now.
If everything was gone then where would he go? Here he stands in the same Meadow and he knows it’s the same, the familiarity of patches of trees and rocks and surrounding fence line of forest which ties to a river. He doesn’t know that these themselves have been separated when once upon a time they had all just been melded. How could this be? It’s worst then he knows. And while the dread crawls through his body, the bear remains uncharacteristically still.
Tie me to a post and block my ears, I see widows and orphans through my tears...
This strange straw-hued boy is shook. Jah-Lilah can see and feel it all over. It's heavy in the air, the sense of bewilderment his aura puts off. She follows his gaze, not having the answers he seeks. She is new to this place, only knows what she's heard in songs and stories. She is a blank slate, discovering this place same as him, only this is her first time. She speaks softly to him, her voice soothing. "Gone, Three-Scars. Everything is gone. Pangea crumbled into the void, and there is a rift in the land now. Everything is separated. Apartheid. They hunger for power, and a great darkness is rising. It will consume the day, if allowed.
She leans forward, switching the weight on her heels. The wind brings the different scents of the equine all around, but they are ignored. Jah-Lilah doesn't look at the tall stallion, but just listens to him.
...I know my call despite my faults, and despite my growing fears.
Bound for trouble from the start I've been walking through this old world in the dark
Despite the soothing tone of her voice, he feels the panic rising from his chest. Bile stinging the back of his throat. Gone…. It was all gone. Worse was her singsong mention of darkness. He had his fill of darkness and terror. He wanted no more of it, had never wanted it. Just peace and quiet. That was what he longed for and what was always out of reach. ”What do you mean it’s gone? How?” He asks her desperately. His desperation is laid bare, glimmering in the gold flecks of his dark eye. It doesn’t matter, she’s not looking at him anyways.
Gone. The Gates was gone. The Dale, everything. Part of him should be pleased, there were no more unpleasant reminders. No way to trigger his past if it had all been destroyed. He should be happy with this clean slate, a true fresh start. So why is he so shaken? His very core is frozen, lost as to what to do. ”Where will I go now?” He whispers, a lost boy once more.
She feels a pang of sorrow in her chest, pity rising up for this broken man. Her face stays solemn as she speaks, finding no joy in his pain. "The makers of this realm, they wiped everything. Your people, all people, were ungrateful. Took the gifts of the Faeries for granted. They cast Pangea into the void, and snatched back all the treasures they bestowed upon you. You'll find your magick is gone, Three-Scars." She turns to him and the anguish on his face is plain as day.
She sighs, softening her expression. She moves closer to him, without actually touching him. Her feathers dance in the wind, tapping lightly against her neck and his. "Yes. I've dreamed it. A dark demon, who flies through the land, angry and merciless. He dances with a white wolf, eyes red as blood. The wolf beckons him, calls him forth. The wolf is hungry." She is quiet a moment, then swishes her tail nonchalantly. "Follow your feet. Stop worrying. They will take you where you need to be. You will find a place to go." She doesn't know what else to say. My star-child has never been concerned about the things they fear here. The universe requires balance, and the Earth-Mother has always taken care of everything she needed. She can't relate to him, but she can be here. And so she stands noiselessly, shoulder to scarred shoulder with him, trying to take some of his confusion from him.
