"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
because the future's gone. praying in the dark that you won't go home. i should've said it better, i should've set fire to a letter. but i could run to your apartment, hope i get it started better than before; and i could write it in a poem, pretend i used to know you better than before.
It takes her too long to reach Silver Cove. By the time she arrives, the winter weather does little to soothe the perspiration that darkens her swollen body. If this journey were under normal circumstances, Wishbone is certain she could have traveled from the common-lands into Silver Cove in a simpler amount of time. Even under the conditions of the weather (a blizzard had wound itself along the edges of Hyaline’s mountains over the course of a day and a night, forcing her to sweat within the protection of a cave in the foothills before it was clear enough to leave), she would have made better time than this. The blackness of the infection paired with the weight of growing twins has slowed her down tremendously, and she is happy to finally reach the border of the Cove.
The whisperings among the dying in the sparse forests had led Wishbone to Silver Cove in search of that dear family. In her short passage among Tephra’s relocated borders, the mahogany had smelled nothing of her parents (nor of Tangerine, who might’ve indicated Warrick’s presence) and that fact alone had concerned Wishbone. Had her parents fallen ill under the weight of the plague? Had Solace or Svedka or Kagerus? Despite the sickness leaking into every pore of her body and despite the discomfort of growing a pair of twins in her womb, the Nerinian had been hellbent on checking on her family — distance be damned.
Their scents are faint across the border, riding on a winter breeze lined with salt and pine. Wishbone doesn’t feel any fear in crossing into Silver Cove, especially when the twins decide to twist mightly at the same time. They are growing quickly, stretching her sleek sides into something much heavier-looking and less attractive. Wishbone spends each morning coughing herself awake and cursing Ivar between strangled breaths. However, the love of her own mother has been working in her vessels and she can’t help but twist to nudge her side as one of the twins presses their growing hoof against the wall of its confines.
credit to eliza of adoxography.
@[Solace] / @[Kagerus] / whoop whoop time is fake and wishbone is still pregnant and sick; also it's winter <3
{ and in my dreams i've kissed your lips a thousand times }
The blizzard harried us, but with the lull in pressing politics, we decided to ignore it. Cooped up in the safety of a low-land grotto, Solace and I waited out the frozen hell-storm by passing the time with idle conversation, and far less idle bedroom activities. With the entire world at our fingertips when we got sleepy, the time spent therein was far from boring; and indeed for a few days, I wished that the storm would never pass.
Of course, it did eventually - and the taste of real grass, instead of just dreamt, did make us happier than we would have guessed hours before in the cave. Grazing side by side, my wife and I enjoy each other's presence in silence, still not fed up with each other even after a week of nonstop time together.
Well, maybe I could do without her stinky farts - but a lady never reveals little flaws like that, not when the worst part of the love of her life is a bit of a smelly toot now and again. Smirking at the thought, I nicker warmly across the space between us, and smile even more upon receiving one in return.
Not long after, however, the scent of someone familiar and yet estranged interrupts our winter feast, sending us to the border at a rapid pace to investigate.
Pulling up from a gallop, I want to shout for joy at who I see - but the scrawny, swollen sight of Wishbone stills the call on my lips, for no pregnant mare should be that thin. Still, I do not stop myself from walking decidedly into her embrace, clutching her closer than perhaps she might expect for a moment longer than she may have anticipated. What can I say? We don't get many visitors from Before the plague, any more - and this one seems frailer than the rest, though I'll be damned before I ever say that to Wishbone's face.
Stepping back, I put on my best grin, and greet her jovially. "Wishbone - what a pleasure to see you again, though I am sorry that it is under such circumstances." The look I lend the woman indicates that I mean the plague, but I do not let this sorrowful subject be the focal point of my words. "I hope the blizzard did not harm you as you came - please, if you need anything, make yourself at home or just say the word."
KAGERUS
Caretaker of The Sanctuary Lover of Solace Immortal, antlered Dreamweaver
It feels good to stretch her legs after a week cooped up like a fox in her den. Solace's muscles are still a little stiff as she wanders sleepily into the sunlight at her wife's side, pressing kisses to her shoulder as they make their way towards better grazing. Even if dreaming provided them with a world they created together to explore their every impulse and wish, there was a certain substance to feeling real food in her belly again and the earth below her hooves.
So It doesn't take more than a challenging glance from her lover to convince Solace to indulge in a mad dash across the southern foothills, snow flying, and heart hammering. She trails her wife by a length, even if she could have easily overtaken her on the downhill portions of their run by using her wings, wondering for the one-hundredth time that week how she got so lucky.
The scent they chase is familiar yet takes a moment to recall from her subconsciousness. The last time Solace had seen her half-sibling she had been carrying her first set of children and Wishbone had been barely more than a girl - proud of her sailor's mouth and newfound independence - yet newly made a queen. But it is a different creature Tangerine's daughter spots along the scent lines, at least in appearances. Solace tucks away the initial wash of concern she feels for the health of the young mare, instead focusing on the joy she feels at seeing another figure from her past.
After Kagerus, Solace gives Wishbone her own embrace. It is not quite as hearty as the one given by her Warrior Queen, but it is no less heartfelt. With outstretched wings she pulls her father's daughter close, glad to hold one of her kin (even if only for a moment) in these times of turmoil.
"I hope you have time to stay and rest for a while, Wish" she begins, withdrawing a step back to give the young mare her personal space, "or do we owe this visit to Nerine?"
S
olace
we're reeling through an endless fall we are the ever-living ghost of what once was
because the future's gone. praying in the dark that you won't go home. i should've said it better, i should've set fire to a letter. but i could run to your apartment, hope i get it started better than before; and i could write it in a poem, pretend i used to know you better than before.
The sight of Kagerus and Solace moving to greet her among the fresh snow and wild pine brings warm relief to Wishbone’s chest. Although Solace is only family through their father (and Kagerus bound with marriage rather than blood), the mahogany mare had still spent her childhood viewing her twin half-siblings as her true family. She had visited them in her young days, alongside Wound during a diplomatic visit, and she had visited them on her own accord in her older years. Among the trauma and sickness that Beqanna is undergoing, it puts Wishbone at ease to see their familiar faces.
Kagerus’ embrace is unanticipated but warm. Wishbone finds herself leaning closer, though a slender tendril of discontent wraps around her emotions at the feeling of her sister-in-law’s suppleness compared to her own ragged thin body. The mahogany is not who she was when she left Beqanna a few years ago — hell, she’s not who she was when she came to Beqanna only a season ago. “It’s good to see familiar faces,” she admits. Her tone is perhaps rougher than it normally should be; whiskey-rock from the sulfur of Tephra.
Indeed, Solace’s own embrace is equally reciprocated from the infection-weathered mare. “No, I’m not here from Nerine.” The kingdom had seemed to be quiet and sullen during the months she’d spent there before the grip of the plague and the swell of her pregnancy had forced her to settle in a nonspecific place of solitude. She knows little of the diplomatic intentions between the East and the North, but a slight smile finds her bone-narrow face at how Solace had assumed her allegiance to the kingdom in the north had remained. In truth, it does; yet Wishbone knows she is too weak to be productive to Breckin at this point.
“I did come to visit. I tried to find Father in Tephra, but his scent is gone… Have you seen him?” Her eyes dance toward the stretches of Silver Cove behind their shoulders. “And Svedka? Did he move with you from Hyaline?” Solace’s twin brother shares a kindred heart with Wishbone; the pair had always been daring each other to walk the line between sudden death and getting their asses beat by an angry family member. Worry begins to cloud the mahogany’s face at the absence of Svedka; surely he would have arrived if he’d caught her scent at the border.
{ and in my dreams i've kissed your lips a thousand times }
Solace in turn offers Wishbone a warm greeting, complete with a soft embrace and a quiet murmur of conversation. I reflect once more on how perfectly my golden queen and I fit together, this subject one which seems to be endlessly fascinating to me; I reach for her as she steps back to come alongside me, brushing the dark of my muzzle against the light of her neck. I love you, I think to her easily, and straighten to listen to our guest.
After all, she is what the storm brought in; surely, she brings some news of interest along with her. If not, she is still a welcome sight for our wearily sore eyes.
It's good to see familiar faces, Wishbone begins, and I can only dip my head in somber agreement. During these trying times, any reminders of past free of contagion is a welcomed memory, though in meeting these people there is only newfound sorrow on account of their exposure to illness. I offer a kind if sad smile, and listen as the emaciated bay goes on to explain that she does not come from Nerine, but instead to simply visit. To find her father, my father-in-law.
Warrick...
My smile lessens, eyes dropping to Solace's hooves with a low churr of support. That is a question for her to answer, though my heart aches to know where Warrick has gone off to, and if he is safe during these trying times. At the mention of Svedka, my humble posture redoubles, and I remain silent, gradually bringing my eyes up to Wishbone as Solace offers whatever insight she may have on the subject. Hopefully, the answer which comes will not be as disheartening as I am anticipating it to be.
KAGERUS
Caretaker of The Sanctuary Lover of Solace Immortal, antlered Dreamweaver
![[Image: kag]](https://78.media.tumblr.com/2e8039018ce4dff6112c167ec23e886a/tumblr_p72zjit7wC1s5a0qvo1_100.png)
