"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 there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The Meadow is quiet, but it’s calm isn’t reassuring today.
It’s probably because I know what will come to pass this afternoon; an hour, maybe two, I cannot tell exactly when. Winter is here, and I fit in like a dream - once again. My unending whiteness draws the eye of some, representing snow not yet fallen, or perhaps a purity they’d like to achieve. They don’t know how messed up I feel sometimes, they don’t know how hard it is to keep a straight and neutral face in trying times, to put on a motherly smile and know that some of my (figurative) children cannot be steered back to what they once were, and I can only love them in return of their sometimes harsh actions - love them and hope it gets better. I’ll be there when you break down, that smile says. I’ll be waiting for you and I won’t judge.
Not judging is very hard to do though. I must be careful not to judge my friends, or my former friends, acquaintances. I don’t know everything, even if I now know more than I knew before - but I don’t know the past, and the future comes in flashes of certainty that I feel more than I see it.
I must be here today, and I must intervene for the good of the future.
But why, and how, remains a mystery for now.
And so I wander the dried grasses, aimlessly and purposefully at the same time. I greet mothers with near-yearling children, I nod at the occasional stallion coming here for a bite of the green-ish stalks before the first snowfall. Hyaline, I muse to myself, must be covered already. The passes may be filled already - has it really already been a year since I last went there? All I remember of last year seems to be passing in a blur; and I know I haven’t really, actually visited, for a long while. Too long. Stuck in the Cove and the Field, set on finding people to help hide from the plague, now set on keeping the peace in the realm that is dear to me, but finding it near impossible to do so.
I wander, and I wonder.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
05-02-2019, 10:56 AM (This post was last modified: 05-02-2019, 11:04 AM by NPC.)
Elliana isn’t in the Meadow for pleasantries today. She scowls at grasses, kicks up dirty ground when she dislikes their taste. Today could not be any worse - today is the day she was certain she was pregnant. Today, she felt a first kick and cursed.
Maybe it’ll be a boy? She can only hope so - boys don’t get in trouble when they fool around with someone, they just go home (or not and have some more), and they can sleep peacefully knowing that their lives may never change. Boys can gather a shitload of mares and fool them all long enough to knock them up in one season, and then hoard all those mothers-to-be in their little ‘herd’.
But if there’s one thing in her life she is certain of, is that she is not a herd mare.
She’d always been a wanderer, and wasn’t going to give it up for the baby. She’d cursed silently, but as the day progressed she had realized that she didn’t really mind the child she was growing; she just didn’t want to be tied down to one place. But she could take the foal with her. Somewhere, anywhere - as long as it wasn’t his father’s stupid herd.
And so she tears up grass despite everything; after all, she eats for two now and should probably build some reserves. At least that’s what she has heard other mares say, the chit-chatting ones with a bunch of foals at their heels.
But of course her day wasn’t getting better. No. He has to go and spoil it for her. Hearing his typical snort for attention, smelling him - it’s almost enough to make her leave right away.
She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, so she pretends he isn’t here.
He’s not an idiot. Not, whatever they seemed to think. The grey stud is a handsome one, and it’s not his fault that he has an open relationship with everyone. The trouble, he thinks - the trouble is that nobody asks until it is too late, and the deed is done.
Then, and only then, do they start complaining.
Well, not all of them, but Elliana surely had.
He figured maybe she wouldn’t be pregnant, maybe she just didn’t like him enough. At first, anyway. But when some others he had met (and, erm, recruited) that season turned out to be expecting, he had given in to his instincts and went looking for her.
From a ways away, he snorts to catch her attention, but the beautiful but fierceful mare doesn’t hear him. A frown follows, and he walks closer. They really have to talk about this.
”Elli. You’re pregnant, aren’t you? Won’t you come home with me?”
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
I may have walked past her about three times earlier, but I hadn’t noticed her significance. I know why, when it does hit me; when I turn around to regard the pregnant bay with fuchsia points, I see that it is the arrival of the horned dappled grey stallion that has triggered my intuition. Like a deja vu, I watch them from afar for a while, and pretend to be interested in feeding myself more than in them. My time is not now.
Others look up to them once in a while, but like me they don’t feel like they should come in between. I fold my wings and dim them, though letting them disappear fully is something that I haven’t been consciously able to do since the one time on the ice pixie’s mountain.
I listen. I hope they can sort it themselves.
”I am not coming with you.” The girl, a voice laced with emotion: anger more than sadness, I notice.
”It is where you belong!” The guy. Equally upset.
”I don’t belong in your fucking whore-house!”
That turns a few necks. Faces are scowling, but the couple only stares at each other in fury and the cycle continues.
”It’s the safest place for the baby.”
”You mean it’s the safest place for you.”
”For God’s sake, Ellia- aah! Dammit!”
A sound - I look up and see her fanged teeth drip with his blood, and I hurry forward, cursing inside. Am I too late already, to fix this?
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
05-05-2019, 05:31 AM (This post was last modified: 05-05-2019, 05:41 AM by NPC.)
He must have figured it out sooner than her - she sure hadn’t told anyone. But he probably had lots of other examples too. Gritting her teeth, the fuchsia-pointed bay had to admit to herself that perhaps she could have known earlier too. But only to herself - no way that she would give in to anyone else.
Like just now - she wasn’t willing to give up her freedom for a baby she’d accidentally made, and certainly not for his father and his precious herd. He had plenty others willing to be wooed, it just wasn't her.
Why the hell could he not understand that?
And now he came here with pretty words and petty arguments, thinking he could sway her (again) and she would suddenly change her mind because of the life that was now within her.
Well, didn’t that just blow up nicely in his face.
Almost literally so - she couldn’t handle his stupidity any more, and his non-argumentation had finally gotten the better of her. A bite might teach him to next time keep his distance.
With mild, short-lasting, satisfaction, she’d let her teeth sink into skin and muscle and turned to leave. He'd feel that for a while. She’s so - darn - stubborn. He should never have gotten himself involved with her. Why’d he even bothered? Sure, she was pretty, but even last fall it had been clear and obvious what her character was like. Not the loyal types he usually hung around - something different entirely. Perhaps that was what had attracted him to her in the first place. But now she had a child growing, and he knew it was his.
If he couldn’t even raise his child, what good was he then?
No, he would continue to fight for them - whatever this stupid little girl was thinking, she belonged with him. With his family. With her ‘sisters’, at least that’s what they seemed to call themselves. With her herd. His herd, sure, but, mostly his children’s home.
Why the hell could she not understand that?
It would be the safest place - for her ánd the unborn child they shared. Maybe in time she would get used to it and appreciate it, but if not, nothing would stop her leaving if the foal was grown - but until that time, he couldn’t just let her leave and never see his child again, ever.
Her freedom was so precious to her, she would neglect her - their - child’s safety and happiness, which is why he lost his tongue -
She bit him. She actually bit him. Used those fangs and, faeries help him, he had no idea what to do for a moment. Stunned, he watches her turn to leave, though a fairly white (almost too bright) shape is conveniently in her way. His head lowers in a defensive position - this is getting way out of hand, but he’s not going to give up so soon.
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The pretty mare (spoiled by her scowl) turns away to leave, but she nearly bumps into me. I have to say something. ”Hey, don’t go yet.” It slips my mind without thinking, and now she glares at me. I manage a slightly weak smile in return, and sidestep to talk to the stallion, whose head is lowered to expose his horns to us, and glaring also - but more at her than at me.
Diplomacy has been my only weapon for years. I can do this.
Can I?
Looking from one to the other, I scowl myself. ”You’re making fools of yourselves.” Both of them, they are. As one, they seem to turn against me, and though inwardly I smile because a common enemy can bring people together, I also know that it won’t be enough, won’t last long enough, probably not even until their son is born.
Unperturbed, I continue as if they haven’t just both sided with one another to attack me in stead of the other. ”As far as I understand it, you,” the guy I face, ”want to see your child, and you,” the girl then, “don’t want to face his other mares in a herd.” I smile at them. I don’t know their past, but I can see what their future will be like if nobody steers them back to one another in some way.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
05-05-2019, 05:58 AM (This post was last modified: 05-05-2019, 05:58 AM by NPC.)
Don’t go yet. Like this is some fucking party. Well, maybe it is. Isn’t that what they say? Three makes a party? Four, even, if you count the life inside.
Elliana’s scowl turns in an outright glare, directed at the interruption in the form of a white mare. Is she even real, she wonders one moment, then shakes that thought. Probably to do with the glowing wings surrounding her. The face of an angel - but she needs a demon right now. On that would help shred the father of her unborn child to pieces, or maybe just torture him or - well, her child would be without a daddy, but to be honest, she is pretty sure that they will be just fine, just the two of them. It’s her child now, not his - not anyone else’s, ever.
She’s ready to ignore the strangely white mare, and then she says something that hurts. You’re making fools of yourselves.
Of course, the fuchsia-pointed mare was never going to admit to anyone that she was hurt, and so she hurts in return. Glances at Royand - at the moment she can spare her mind and admit that she knows his name - and snarls at the new threat. A common enemy it is, then.
The common enemy fails to be impressed, instead continues with stating the obvious - ridiculous. Elliana rolls her eyes, ready to ignore the fuss once more. After all, she got what she wanted - if he left her alone after this anyway
Elliana didn’t know how close he’d gotten to actually attacking her - anywhere that wasn’t her belly, at least. It’s that being-torn-up about the baby that had prevented him so far. And then there was the white splotch that turned out to be another mare.
Great, just great. Surely she would side with his ex, and then he’d never get to even see the kid. Not until he or she was grown up and started asking about his father, and then some years because Royand is pretty sure that Elliana would make up something about his untimely death.
Surely that fantasy would be too good to be true, though. In fact, maybe he should cross the line. Maybe he should steal or kidnap her and raise the child himself. Elliana wouldn’t like it, but it was better than her disappearance, and once he had a bond with his son or daughter, she wouldn’t be able to leave and say it was for the best.
You’re making fools of yourselves.
He feels shame first, then anger, and then - something he hasn’t felt all day - Elliana glances at him, and he feels a surge of hope. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Maybe if he stands with the mother of his child, he’ll be able to persuade her at last.
But the white mare continues to talk, something obvious - he starts to roll his eyes, but stops when Elliana turns to leave.
His glare to the white mare goes completely ignored.
05-05-2019, 05:59 AM (This post was last modified: 05-05-2019, 06:00 AM by Ilma.)
Ilma
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The mare rolls her eyes, again threatening to leave, but before she can do so I continue in a softer tone. ”But you both forget that this fighting of yours will mostly harm the little one.”
I don’t need any magic or intuition or whatever you want to call it, to know that this is true; they don’t need it either.
It is now that I have their actual, full attention. I look at them, smile wearily. I’ve seen it often enough. ”The compromise,” I tell them, ”would be to live close by, and visit long and frequently. And more importantly - once weaned, the foal should be allowed to choose what they want. And you’ll just have to tolerate one another’s existence for the sake of your shared little love.” Looking to the bite mark pointedly, I then turn back to them. ”Good day.”
They’re silent for a long while, while I take my leave. They’ll have a lot to think about. Compromising always is a solution that nobody is fully, one hundred percent happy with, but it also comes with the satisfaction that the other party didn’t get what they want either. Both can live with it - for the sake of the third.
For the sake of a common love.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
