"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
And ye shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire
This is the last day he will stand in the Cove as the king of the east, he thinks with a light smile. There is a hint of sadness to the thought, but he has faith that someone like Breach will forge an even brighter future for them all as she carries out her mother’s dream. He steps further into the territory until he reaches the sand where he used to roll and play as a yearling. The ocean still manages to make him feel small and powerless, but the feeling is less terrifying now.
He breathes another mouthful of the ocean air and turns to observe an approaching figure. They have met only briefly before, but she left an impression. Ghaul offers a grin of crooked fangs in greeting before moving to meet her halfway along the shore. “Straia, did I disturb you?” he asks with a tilt of his draconian head. She seemed like the type to keep to herself and he worries that maybe she had wanted the beach to herself.
“I could come back another time, if you’d prefer.” It is surprising, at times, that he can be so patient and understanding when the mood suits him. He gave the Cove to Gospel and the Entities to make it their home, and he intends to respect whatever laws they establish within the territory. They’ve more than done the same for him. “I just wanted to stroll the beach again before we leave for Loess and Nerine.”
It does not occur to him to invite Straia along, though she seems fond of her burning tree. He assumes she has her own agenda and he would rather not intrude upon it.
08-24-2020, 09:43 AM (This post was last modified: 08-24-2020, 09:43 AM by Straia.)
sometimes we want what we want -- -- even if we know it’s going to kill us.
The news of Sochi is recent. Yet another disappointment, it would seem. What a shame that others cannot be relied upon, that they cannot do what it takes to break the world beneath their feet. Straia is, of course, aware that Breach has decided to take over her mother’s plan, but still, she is doing so in another land. This leaves Straia well...it leaves her feeling rather free. Not that Sochi had kept her in chains, or Ghaul for that matter, but Straia does have a certain sense of honor. Not the common sort, but something like loyalty. She’d chosen Sochi, but she had not chosen Breach.
But today, it seems, may not be a disappointment. The figure on the beach is a familiar one, and one that maybe was less of a disappointment than all the rest. ”Not at all, if you do not mind some company ” she purrs in that deep, smoky voice of hers. A voice that knows far more than it should. Her amber eyes look at him in a way that is clear they see far more than they should. ”I do admit, I am growing fond of the Cove. Though it is perhaps a bit...quiet….for my tastes.” The way she says quiet implies far more, and she suspects he is smart enough to figure it out.
She does have her own agenda, but that doesn’t mean there might not be some way to work together, after all.
”A shame about Sochi,” she says, settling in to stroll along the beach with him, the swell of her belly evident enough in the morning light. Though she does not move quite like a pregnant mare, and it’s clear there is some bit of her magic at work here. Straia has never had an uncomfortable pregnancy, but she is not hiding its existence as she could. ”Though it seems you have been busy. What do you plan to do in Loess and Nerine?” Not that she doesn’t know per se, for she knows a great many things, but really, the question is an invitation. She wants to know if he’ll accept.
-- straia
the raven queen
@[ghaul]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
And ye shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire
It weighs heavily on his heart, to know Sochi came so near to death and now lies dormant in Hyaline. She gave him his first scars and he remembers her quite fondly for surviving his teeth just as her daughter had. But fate stops for no one and its siren’s call remains deafening in his ears. Ghaul must be certain that she awakens to a world that is deserving of someone as resilient as her and her brood.
Straia accepts his intrusion and he offers a nod of thanks as she begins to walk alongside him. He watches the outline of her face as she speaks and his lips peelback into a grin at her mention of how hushed the territory has become. Naturally, he agrees. Being shackled by his bargains and barricaded against has made him anxious. It should hardly come as a surprise that he had mauled whichever creatures he could find.
“Death cares little for Sochi; she will return stronger than before,” he says knowingly, the obvious swell of pride in his friend filling his voice. But there is little that can be done for her and so Straia’s attention shifts to Ghaul’s plans. He considers her quietly for a moment before he thinks of how best to word it all.
“I will burn them to the ground. The weak have become a burden on the strong, tying up resources they’ve no right to. They will face Pangea and the worthy will survive. The world will be reshaped in its proper form,” he explains. His smile is gone and his lips now form a stoic line across his face, punctuated with crooked teeth. As to what makes someone worthy, he does not elaborate further. He has always believed that strength was drawn from both might and cunning, never pretending to be the final judge of who lives and dies.
08-25-2020, 10:18 AM (This post was last modified: 08-25-2020, 10:18 AM by Straia.)
sometimes we want what we want -- -- even if we know it’s going to kill us.
”A sentiment I am familiar with,” she says with a chuckle. Sochi would fare just fine, though still, the timing was not ideal. Perhaps Straia would seek out her daughter...that seemed to be all Straia was doing lately. Perhaps it was time she stopped looking for puppets and got more involved on her own again, though it might have been fun to play puppet master. The problem was, those she would be most interested in were never the type to make good puppets. After all, she’d be disappointed if they were.
Her grin spreads slightly at the invitation. ”You know,” she muses, not entirely answering directly, as is often her way, ”fire is so often misunderstood.” The ocean beside them bursts into flame, rolling blue waves of it that lap at their feet without burning. ”It does not destroy, as people think. It purifies. And this version of Beqanna...it needs purification.” The flames disappear, though her grin remains, and it seems like maybe she is accepting his invitation as well.
”What do you believe is the proper form for Beqanna?” she asks, curious what he imagines. This is really the crux of the matter, because this is not Beqanna as it should be. It feels lifeless and dead in so many ways, and though she knows she cannot return magic to the world as it once had been, perhaps they could reshape it together into something more akin to the Beqanna it should be. The Chamber was gone, but perhaps its legacy was not.
-- straia
the raven queen
@[ghaul]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
