"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
clarity, paint me bright like stars in the dark of night
Time had come to mean something to Hawke.
She studied it, appreciated it, began to think on its general relativity. She came to abhor sleep because she felt that she was wasting it, and didn’t ever want to find Time again and have to explain herself to him. To tell him she had not appreciated the moments he had given her, the things that were so precious to Her. So she often wandered away from Tephra, spending her hours discovering new crannies, running until the air went from her lungs, until her legs were weak from exhaustion, but her eyes burning bright with joy.
Over time, her body began to blossom, the youth beginning to bleed away to be replaced by the beginning of womanly curves. She was not particularly beautiful, not in the traditional sense, although she was plenty pleasing to look at. What was beautiful about her was the wildness in her eye, her voracious appetite for life. She was not beautiful in the way of delicate lace or gentle smiles. She was as beautiful as roaring waterfalls and vast sierras and unexplored canyons. She was beautiful in the way of an eagle’s deft swoop or a hare’s headlong race. She was beautiful in the way of the wild.
As she ran through the Forest, she thought on the gifts Time had given to her. Gifts that had taken time to manifest but were now rooted in her, blossoming in her chest. She did not have strange magick; she could not command the sea or take to the air, but there was a supernatural grace to her movements. She ran faster than her body should have allowed, ran for longer than was possible. Imbued with Time’s gifts, and buoyed by the constant love given to her family, she saw the world with new eyes, new strength.
When she saw him, the purple stark against the ice of his coat, she found herself slowing and then angling toward him, her hazel eyes studying him unabashedly. She came too close, fearless as she breathed him in, her breath still coming in deep gasps. “I don’t often see many here in the middle of the night.” She gave him a wide, honest smile, her youthful face clear, her neck slick with sweat. “My name is Hawke.”
Healing, he was still healing. Not the jagged scars that cut across his shoulders, those were just the same and would remain. But deep inside, he was still healing. Nothing had ever affected him so profoundly, so painfully. It wasn't because of what he'd lost, his wings. It was the helplessness, the weakness, that cut him so deeply. He'd been powerless, worthless as the beast forced him down and took what he wanted. Without a fight, without a challenge. He'd been belittled to nothing in that moment, vulnerable and useless.
Helpless.
He stood there now, in that same place, staring down at the dirt that had soaked in his blood. Often, he returned here. It no longer smelled of him, no longer reeked of his blood, but still the memories played so clearly in his mind. And no matter how he thought on it, he could never find a way to do things differently. If only he'd done something differently.
An ear flicked back as he became aware of her. Slowly, unnaturally bright eyes turned to her to find her studying him. And coming closer. Too close. His body tensed but held his ground. "I don't often see many here in the middle of the night," she observed, still gasping for breath from an apparent jog through the forest, her neck and sides painted darker with salty sweat. She smiled wide, easily, and introduced herself as Hawke.
It seemed to suit her, delicate and wild. Untamed, perhaps. Ruan, he replied quietly but evenly. A simple trade of names. The bunch of his muscles showed he was uncomfortable with her closeness, though he did not shy from it. His haunted gaze stared back at her, as he considered her previous statement, that she did not often see others. Did she race through the night regularly, then? Odd pass-time for a girl on her own.
Nor do I, he agreed, though he was most often deep within a different forest at night. But tonight he'd needed distance, needed a change. He shifted his weight and resettled himself. Are you here often? he added, attempting to play the elusive game of conversation, a common activity often lost on him.
clarity, paint me bright like stars in the dark of night
She was surprised by the rough edge to his voice, the bruises in his eyes, but she didn’t show it. There was something about him that made her think of father with the ghosts that haunted him or mother with her own demons; the way they iced over when certain subjects were brought up. It excited her, made something zip through her veins. Here was danger and challenge. She felt herself blossom before it.
“Ruan,” she tasted the name a little, closing her eyes as she did so. Hawke never did anything half way, never did anything without throwing herself completing into it. She hummed with pleasure as she opened her light eyes again, finding the alien blue of his own. “It suits you,” she said, finally, having weighed the syllables on her tongue and finding them adequate. His name was like a bullet; short and staccato and hard. She was glad for it. It wouldn’t have been right if he’d been named something flowery.
He deserved the bullet name.
It matched the same thing she saw in his eyes.
She felt more than saw the tension in the way he held himself, the muscles hardening beneath his coat, the stiffness in his posture. But she never considered backing away or giving him more space. It wasn’t that she was terribly rude—it was just that she lived too close to the fire to ever truly fear the flames. She was intrigued by it and she found herself studying him with curious eyes, tracing the lines of his body without reservation, settling on the deep scars that lined his shoulders. Her head titled at that, lips pursing.
“I am everywhere often,” she said with an elusive grin. “I do not like to stay in one place for long.” That included Tephra. Although she was still young, cresting on two, but her quest had aged her, brought her closer to the brink of full maturity sooner than if she had avoided it. She was not content to live within her parent’s home forever; she would not be content to live anywhere forever. Not when there was such a wild world out there for her to taste. Could you imagine tethering yourself one place? She couldn’t.
Her bit her bottom lip for a moment and took a small step toward him, wondering how he would respond to the closeness. “Do you have any stories worth telling?”
Ruan. She repeated his name, and something in the sound of it had him peering at her curiously. A depth, an awareness. Somewhere beneath the soft brown of her coat was a deep strength, a hidden purpose. Her eyes closed and he studied her. She hummed in pleasure after a few moments, and that, too, was curious. It suits you. A hawk, sharp and wild.
Her eyes roved over his body openly, tracing his contours as he watched her intently in return. She settled over his scars, her head tilting. The movement was familiar, and almost had him mirroring it out of habit. He could feel her eyes there at his damage, feel the shame burn at his skin, in his heart. She was so close he could swear her body heat reached for him, tugged to play with his, but he realized he didn't mind her so distracted with the angry welts at his shoulders. He didn't mind that she saw them, that she examined them so openly. He only minded that she was so very close, and drifting closer.
I am everywhere often. I do not like to stay in one place for long. He nodded, mostly to himself. Wild and free, bound to no one, no place. He could see that for her, the light of adventure in her eye, the restlessness.
Do you have any stories worth telling? I love a good story. She stepped even closer, near and reachable. Black muzzle drifted to her, almost meeting the soft hollow beside her mouth as he took in her scent. Analyzed it, memorized it. Wild. Like him. Beautiful. His teeth suddenly nipped at her, taking a step forward and claiming his space like a wolf to an unruly pup. Blue eyes remained cool, unaffected and calm. No, he said quietly. No stories worth telling tonight. He had never been a story-teller. Had never been much of anything.
He waited, searching her face.
clarity, paint me bright like stars in the dark of night
If she noticed his discomfort, she didn’t respond to it—didn’t acknowledge it. She had grown up wild and free and restless, honeyed spirit never learning the boundaries or fears of overstepping them. Space had no meaning to her, and she could not comprehend why someone would want it. So when he moved closed to her, when he nipped at her, she laughed low—the sound like wind whistling through the canyons, low and natural and right. Her own teeth finding the flesh on his muscled neck and pinching lightly.
He tasted like the wild, but with something else.
An edginess—as if the wild was trapped in his chest, as if he denied it.
Curious.
“That’s alright,” she said with a grin and a roll of her pale shoulders. At his question, her eyes sparked, and her smile grew. “As a matter of fact, I do.” She hadn’t told anyone yet. Not really. The story still lived solely within her, growing and twisting within her, taking on new meaning over time. She didn’t like that. Things like this were meant to be shared, meant to be passed along. Despite the fact that she had lived the story, it was not hers to keep and hoard; it was something that should be given new life and a new home.
So she found his strange, hard gaze and held it easily, unperturbed by the harshness, the rough edges of him. It made sense. And she told him everything. Starting with how she had been in the forest, walking when Time had stopped. She told him of the two-legged creature who needed her to save someone. She told him of the snow and the cave and the voices who had nearly tricked her into death. She told him of the griffin, with its claws and treasure, and the way it had ripped her haunches open, spilling blood out.
Then she told him of the white room and Her, the woman trapped. The women in love.
How she had made a deal to save her, to return her to Time.
And the gifts now embedded in her own chest.
“I’m…stronger now. Faster.” She said it matter of factly, although the magic that raced through her was anything but ordinary. “But I’m tethered by love, anchored by it. The more I am surrounded by it, the more powerful I am. The less, the weaker I grow.” The latter seemed impossible; it was impossible to live in a world without love.
She found his eyes again, face glowing with the adventure of it all.
His brief snap of teeth only made her laugh, drawing her in to mirror it and pinch at his neck. The movement brought them closer. His skin twitched, his body urging him to put space between them but he held himself there where he'd stopped. Sharp eyes watched her intently as she smiled and brightened, then began to tell him her story without flinching from his hard stare.
And such a strange story it was, with time stopping and a two-legged creature speaking to her. A tale where she had to rescue someone with voices trying to trick her to her own death and a great beast, a griffin, ripping violently into her and spilling the blood at her haunches. She spoke of a white room, a woman trapped and in love, and how she'd single-handedly saved her and returned her to Time. How she'd been given a magic for her reward.
I'm...stronger now. Faster. But I'm tethered by love, anchored by it. She explained the workings of this power to him, that she was more powerful with the more love people had for her, and would weaken with less love. Her eyes met his furrowed brows as he took this in, her strange story. It sounded impossible, but there was open honesty mixed with the adventure in her eyes and so he concluded it was all true.
He shook his head, almost bumping into her with their closeness. That is a lot to go through. Congratulations on your success, and your new gift. He fell silent again, because that was what he always did. He was always so quiet, steadily quiet.
After a long moment, he sighed apologetically and finally stepped back and away from her nearness. Sorry, he began with a grimace, I'm not very good with people. Have you ventured to the Taiga yet? That is where I live. Maybe you'd like to visit sometime. And again, so predictably, he fell silent.
clarity, paint me bright like stars in the dark of night
She shook her head when he congratulated her, confused by the stillness, by the space that he kept so carefully between them. She wasn’t used to feeling so cautiously separate from others and it surprised her to feel that there was a pang in her chest, a slight pinch of hurt. It furrowed her brow for a moment before she shook again, trying to get rid of the ache spreading there. Her light eyes found his and stayed there for a moment, studying him, trying to discern the shadows in his eyes, the flatness of his expression.
Would it be so bad to just let loose?
“I didn’t tell you so that you could congratulate me,” she said softly, musing as she considered him again. “But thank you, I suppose.” It seemed like an odd reaction to her story, an ill-fitting one that didn’t seem to sit right, but she accepted it as one of the seemingly many strange behaviors of his. She brightened a little at his apology, and subsequent invitation. “I would love that!” Her pretty face glowing with pleasure.
“I love finding new places.”
For another brief moment, silence reigned over them again and her shoulders twitched a little at the quiet of it. She met his icy gaze again and then took a step away, opening up the space that he so seemed to crave. She pawed at the ground absentmindedly and then turned to him with a wicked gleam in her eye. “If you’re bad with people, maybe you’re better with racing.” She took a jogging step away from him and then turned her head back to give him a challenging grin. “I bet you can’t beat me to the other side.”
On one way, she had a feeling that he’d be a challenge.
On the other, with the power from the Quest, zipping through her veins, she felt invincible.
And besides - anything was better than the silence.
His strange mannerisms seemed to be confusing for her and he grimaced, instantly wishing he could be just a little less wild for once. At least for today, for her. He'd used to be at one time. He wasn't sure what had changed that, why he had become so distant and.. lost. But he liked it; it was comfortable and real, and he didn't want to be found and changed again. He wanted to stay exactly who he was.
She quickly brightened at his offer that she come visit, and he felt a soft smile answer her almost shyly. It always surprised him when someone readily accepted to see his home despite how peculiar he knew he was to them. Or perhaps it was just her, as he didn't really think he'd had the chance to make that offer many other times.
For a moment there was silence, and he settled comfortably into it as he watched her. She turned back to him and stepped away, finally relenting some space for him to feel more at ease, and his muscles relaxed a little more at the freedom. It was but a breath after and she was looking at him with a new light in her eyes that bled into his own; a heightened awareness, an interest. She spoke her challenge with another pace away from him, and a familiar wolfish grin tugged at his dark lips.
He threw himself into her game, leaping forward with a sharp snap at her flank before bounding away. It wasn't so long ago when he had played this way with Aranea, the mare with fire in her eyes. His friend. She'd been upset and needed a distraction, and so they'd run and chased until they were both bathed in sweat and their bones were weary.
Now it seemed the roles were reversed, here with this new woman with a different kind of fire in her eyes. Untamed, untethered. Now the game was for him, and though she could have no idea the connections his mind made, he was still grateful. And he was eager to get lost for a time with her, to let all the worries and troubles slip away. Just for a while.
He smiled over his shoulder at her, holding his own challenge in his blue eyes. Come on then! The sting in his lungs was welcomed like an old friend, the burn in his muscles as he pushed himself to an immediately difficult pace. She could keep up though, with the power of her magic flashing through her, and so he kept on. He glanced to her, unsure if she had a particular destination but not really needing one. Only needing exactly what she gave him: clever company and physical labor.
clarity, paint me bright like stars in the dark of night
It was good to see that fire in his eyes—to see that joy that spread through his lungs, thrumming there steadily as if it belonged, as if there was nowhere else it could possibly be. She squealed as he snapped at her flank, the noise delighted and wild and free. Running is when she felt the most alive; running is when the world melted away and there was nothing but the here and now, the joyful and endless mystery of life.
She checked herself to keep pace with him, following whichever path made the most sense, their breaths coming in rhythm with one another. But as the path opened up slightly, she let loose, the strange power from the quest flooding through her very bones. For a moment, she thought to Time and his love, and she wished them well—wishing them a lifetime of joy in each other’s embrace, in each other’s company.
She shook the thought free at the sound of his hooves, the steady pounding.
Laughing, she rocked back a little, letting out a throaty call before rocketing forward, completely lacking in any sort of inhibition, stripped of any self-conscious behavior. In this moment, she was nothing but the sun and the wind and the ground beneath her hooves. She was nothing but this race, the thrum of his heart calling out to her, the sound of his breathing steadying her as they took a curve and dipped lower.
“Don’t give up now!” she called over, her wild mouth twitching into a smile before she tapped into some internal resources, calling upon a supernatural endurance, and flattened out, tail streaming behind her.
This was life, she thought, the speed causing tears to spring to her eyes.
This was exactly what living was supposed to feel like.
