"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
Ea has been shaken, momentarily.
Not outwardly, no; she still holds herself with a regality, stoic and strong and a bit arrogant. She would never physically succumb to her worry – it isn’t in her nature. But she is worried. She knows Ramiel, barely, from when they were both just children, but her mother’s deal had never been with him. When she heard that Tiphon had passed his crown to his son, it had been enough to put doubt into Ea’s mind – was she safe in the Dale? Would she still be welcomed? It was no longer about becoming queen – there was no doubt she would become queen, somewhere, one way or another. But things had not gone according to plan, and when things didn’t go her way, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself.
But she is here, now, in the Dale. Spring is easing into summer: this season’s foals are easy on their feet and the drizzle of spring is slowly being replaced by the warmth of the sun. Summer had never been Ea’s favorite season – the humidity of the Amazons had been stifling – but the seasons weren’t so extreme outside the Jungle, and she found that more to her liking. The Dale was pleasant enough – a small meadow with a few small rivers, surrounded by hills – but she wasn’t one to sit back and admire the landscape.
She doesn’t announce her arrival; it is long overdue and there is no need to draw attention to it. Instead, she lowers her head, picking boredly at the grass beneath her. Undoubtedly, there will be someone to greet her – all of the kingdoms tend to make a big deal of greeting newcomers and visitors, for some reason unfathomable to Ea – and so she waits.
Summer isn’t yet stifling, but it promises to become so in the following weeks. Already, the heat sticks to him in the late parts of the afternoons. Ramiel has responded by becoming somewhat of an early riser. He’s not quite up with the birds, but by the time the deer come out to graze in their small family groups, the young stallion is right there beside them. He takes his meals when he can, though often it’s difficult to find the time. Becoming a leader had been something he’d known about for a long time before it actually happened, but in practice, it’s far more than he ever thought it would be. In truth, he doesn’t believe it is possible to fully prepare oneself for shouldering so much responsibility – it’s a load that must be carried firsthand.
On rare days free of obligations, he tries to enjoy himself. Discovering that he can float while a ghost has been one novel source of entertainment of his. The grey stallion justifies his practice of it as benefiting their nonexistent army, (should the threat of battle ever reach them, he’ll see the lines a mile away) but truly, it’s mostly just for his sake. Today is one such day. From his vantage point, hovering over the glistening river, he can see all the way to their southern borders. He’s not really looking for anyone (he’s more focused on not falling to a certain, watery death) but out of the corner of his eye, he sees the dark shape pass the invisible line and cross into the kingdom.
Diplomats probably, he thinks, but his movements are no less hurried. He doesn’t like to keep anyone waiting, and as he lowers himself to the ground, he sees that the stranger obviously doesn’t believe in waiting either. Ramiel frowns, touching down on the lush, forgiving grass before moving off immediately. Having been raised firmly in the belief that borders are meant to be respected, he doesn’t appreciate when they are disregarded. In his haste, he forgets to solidify himself. When he comes upon the intruder, a mare, he is less than he usually is. She, however, is completely familiar.
Ea.
He dredges up her name from deep within his memories, from when they were children on outings in the meadow. It occurs to him, just after, that she was meant to live here. She was meant to be raised alongside him with his sister Joscelin and brother Dalten, and then take the throne as well. She was meant to secure the alliance between the Dale and Jungle (the Amazon-voice here like Josc would be there) that Tiphon and Scorch had formed. But all of that was years ago, and neither her nor Dalten had ever stayed. It was supposed to benefit all parties, but all he had gotten out of it was losing his best friend to the Sisterhood.
Ramiel doesn’t hold it against Ea; the promises of their parents are in the past, as far as he’s concerned. He wonders what she thinks of it, though, wonders why she’s come. Is it at her mother’s behest or of her own accord? His golden eyes access her with a newfound appreciation. They’ve both grown, and lately, he’s starting to notice his own appreciation of females. He remembers her to be rather serious; however, it doesn’t diminish his warm smile. “Ea,” he says, her name light and airy on his tongue. Ramiel wants to ask her if she’d gotten lost between the Jungle and Dale, but he doesn’t think she’d appreciate the joke. Instead, he adds, “it’s nice to see you again. Are you staying or just visiting?”
Of course, they are both older than when they met as weanlings, but somehow Ea feels as though she has not aged in those four years. She has and always will be the same: calculating and reserved, if not a bit cold. It is, perhaps, a tired description of the fire-girl – she is growing and changing, just like everyone else, new facets of her personality continuously being revealed, but she is essentially the same. She certainly looks older – becoming of breeding-age has filled out her body and though she never truly went through an awkward growth stage, she looks physically more like an adult.
It should have startled her, the way Ramiel looks – faded, ghostly – but it has been a while since another horse has alarmed her and she is no longer so easily impressed. He seems solid, at first; not physically, of course, but his presence is strong and a bit defensive before he recognizes her and softens and smiles. It hadn’t occurred to her to be mindful of the Dale’s border – she was important, and she feels this place should have been hers, truthfully, but she holds no resentment toward Ramiel.
She smiles back at him – a warm, but forced smile. Ea can play the part of the quiet, sweet girl, but it doesn’t come naturally, and she hopes Ramiel doesn’t notice. She does like him, or what she remembers of him – the quiet boy, loving and protective of his sister.
He speaks to her and when he finishes, she touches him gently on his shoulder with her nose. A stiff gesture of familiarity. “I’d like to stay, if you’ll have me,” she says, adding softly, “it’s good to see you again, Ramiel.”
Age has changed him in many ways, but not fundamentally.
His time in space hasn’t shaken him to his core. His foundation does not tremble with the weight of everything he’s done since he’s seen Ea last.
Some facets about him are different, of course, but they’re mostly physical. For one, Ramiel can become the walking, talking dead. He can wear death as an opaque shield. He can visit the souls trapped on the Other Side; he can walk through trees and float high above the hills. He can hide in the light of day, an invisible specter to everyone around him. He can do all of these things, but inside, he is very much the boy she knew from the meadow, all those years ago.
The same, stoic lines are etched into his face. Too many hours standing and pondering life have left him with settled features. He’s still stubborn and strong; the balance of right and wrong constantly tilt his heart one way or another. He’s also prideful. The greying stallion knows of his own worth, knows that he is meant to be exactly where he is right now – what the Dale and its people need. He knows that he’s a thinker trapped in a capable, fighter’s body. He knows that Carnage is weaker than the world thinks him to be. Their god of the abyss who couldn’t even save his woman from the world’s end – what kind of god is that?
He’s less changed than perhaps he looks, less changed than Ea thinks he is. She, however, is another story.
She must be different, because the girl he’d met with Joscelin had been absolute iron. The silver roan filly hadn’t smiled at (admittedly) juvenile and feeble jokes or joined in on Girr’s boisterous play. She had been curious and bright, and that had been enough to elicit Ramiel’s own interest in her. Now, she is softer, sweeter. It seems completely out of place and character. The young king wonders if it isn’t her design. Is Scorch pulling the strings of her daughter, acting as a puppet-master to reign in her unconventional princess? He doesn’t like the thought of it. What had drawn him to her as a girl (who has blossomed into a striking woman, he thinks) is now totally absent in her as an adult.
He’s glad she’s come, at least. Maybe whatever walls she’s built will crumble in her time here – maybe he will help her tear them down. “Of course,” he answers easily, as she touches his shoulder with her muzzle. Ea’s discomfort in the gesture radiates from the point of contact. Ramiel knows what a loving, warm touch feels like (his mother, his father, his sister) and hers’ is void of either. His golden eyes search her own strange eyes. They’re so close that she can’t possibly turn away without revealing how uncomfortable she truly is. “But I want the real Ea here. We need her strength.” He’s not unkind when he says it, but his voice is firm. She’s no use to them trying to play a part she is unable to. He returns her touch anyway, his nose pressing against the hollow of her shoulder before he withdraws. Ramiel tilts his head away, acknowledging the land stretching away behind them. He wonders if she’ll grow to love it like he does or if she’ll miss the humid Sisterhood.
“This place needs some of that famous Amazon fire,” he grins. Anything to light a fire under our asses. It’s steadily growing, at least. They have a loyal core - that’s always been the case –it’s the expanding that’s been the problem. He desperately wants it, though, and hopes Ea will help too. The promise of their parents still lingers in the back of his mind; he does not forget that at one time, they were practically betrothed. He can’t bring himself to mention it, however. She likely has a line of suitors, besides. “Tell me about the Jungle.” He ought to make the trip to their only ally, but one of their princess’s will have to do for now. “How loyal are they? Will they have our backs if the need arises?” And it might sooner than any of them think, if the stirrings of unrest are true.
Ea
