"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
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He watches quietly as Ilma and Draco discuss his father, though he does not care enough to comment on the matter. But then she turns her pointless conversations on him and he tilts his head to convey his attention to her. She carries on about laws and nomads as his patience wears unbearably thin at last. Ghaul issues a short snort as he tosses his head dismissively.
“An overgrown child, then,” he says as he casts his gaze to Draco with a soft snickering. Ilma begins speaking again and he audibly sighs in response, shifting his weight to settle in for further lecturing from someone he hardly knows. She is presumptuous but he feels no need to bring this fact to light. The beast croons softly when Anaxarete touches his shoulder in greeting as a smile graces his lips. His gaze falls to Alcinder when he explains that he would like to go home. The statement summons a low growl in his throat as he grows tired of the child’s incessant whining.
“Draco, did we cry this often as newborns?” he asks with a cursory glance to his brother and the aliens, as if they would answer either way. His wings shuffle across his back before lying still once more. His attention draws back to Ilma, stars glimmering across his face as he considers her.
“How do you intend to proposition us when you have nothing of value? Unless, of course, you’d like to take part in our hunting games,” he suggests with a sly grin full of crooked fangs. Ghaul chitters excitedly to the aliens as he often does when he notices them tracking something interesting.
@[Ilma] @[Ripley and Nostromo] @[Alcinder] @[draco] @[Anaxarete]
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The queen of the land doesn’t take long to arrive, thankfully. It seems that perhaps she had already anticipated Ilma’s coming. The white mare didn’t think she would be a nice woman indeed, at least not by Ilma’s personal definition, and her cackling doesn’t tell her anything else. But she doesn’t have to be nice.
She is, however, reasonable.
Ilma’s gaze meets Ana’s, and she gives her a weak smile. ”I’ve been a diplomat all my life. I didn’t think being land-less could change me that much.” In Ilma’s opinion, one did not exclude the other. Her allegiance now is with whatever friends she makes on her travels, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. She still has her callings as teacher and mender, even though without a kingdom to back her up, it appears she has less of a purpose politically than personally.
Alcinder however, has less of a sense of politics. ”No, Alcinder. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you’ll have to stay your year.” She doesn’t want him to get his hopes up that he can leave with her; she wants to make sure he is cared for well enough, that he knows his parents are waiting for him, all that - but she cannot give him false hope here. He will stay for as long as he needs to.
Anaxarete and Ghaul demand her proposition then, and she nods to the dragon. She can see it - the wild chase, the tearing of whatever bodyparts - and knows what she is in for. She knew before coming, yet hearing him say it almost sways her into leaving them right there. But she had already decided. ”You’re spot-on, Ghaul. I do have nothing to offer but myself. And so I will. You’ve separated a child from a mother, though it is more customary for them to tag along while the child is still being weaned.” She turns to the queen now, her face a mask that she knows she can probably only carry for so long. ”I’d ask of you to let me stay here - among your other prisoners or as the lowest in rank - for as long as you have him. I’ll join these hunting games whenever you see fit, on the condition that that means you won’t play them with anyone else.” There, that’s it then. Done. A free, extra prisoner - one that her boys apparently hated. The only string being that no-one else would get hurt while held in Pangea.
And she has no land that would claim her back before her time. No-one to return her to, she doesn’t have to be safe, nor sound. Would they be in for this unconventional prisoner, she wonders?
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[Anaxarete] horribly outdated proposal I know, fee free to extend her sentence
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.
She watches with thinly veiled amusement as Draco and Ghaul navigate this very atypical encounter. But the shadowmare’s icy gaze narrows as she considers the ivory mare’s proposal. It was strange, to say the very least, for a nomad with little to offer to throw herself into the proverbial fire for dealings between kingdoms. If the woman had a death wish, that was one thing, but she wasn’t sure that was the woman’s true motive. The shadowmare was no fool.
Was Ilma?
Or was she up to something?
“And what is in it for you, Ilma? Why would you volunteer to stay here as prey and receive nothing in return?” It made no logical sense to the shadowmare. There were those that considered themself to be altruists, but she knew that selfish desires lurked just below the surface in nearly all mortals. And she suspected there was another motive here, and she did not like the idea of interference. Especially if that interference originated in Loess.
“I imagine, as a diplomat, you can understand my hesitation. Such a deal is...suspicious,” she adds, cooly. It was the golden rule of diplomacy. Give and take.
”If you want to throw yourself to the wolves, so to speak, I won’t stop you. But that is your decision - not mine.” The shadowmare will not take responsibility for this woman’s actions. That’s where she draws the line. She would not stand in the way of Ilma’s self destruction, but she would not condone it either.
“Just know if you are trying to play me, it will be the last mistake you make,” she didn’t bother trying to veil the threat. She meant every word.
She was not to be messed with.
Those who tried would be dealt with.
Swiftly.
