"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
She had been kind with her dark eyes and sharp tongue. She had approached what appeared to be a ragged stallion with knotted hair and a low casted gaze. She was a bubbling cauldron that threatened to spill over and the dragon stallion was wary. He felt as if Nayl was watching, wondering, but his wife has long fell silent in the echoes of Nerine. Perhaps it is what pushed him to take comfort in the cool walls of his cave. He already missed the soft patter of cave water dripping from thick scars in it's walls.
He knows she is here for he can taste her scent on the cool air. It was like a dash of cinnamon in coffee, exotic amongst the cold and snow. Lior debates on traveling by foot as he did not care for a show but the ground was hard and the clots of frozen ice were growing on his body. With practiced ease, he grows in size to burst upward in his black dragon form. it was the most natural and it warmed his blood wildly. He is up, up and gone, a black smudge against pristine blue skies. He felt the ripple of scales clicking symmetrically in a rhythm to his heart beat. It felt good to have the freedom to shift and move that he had nearly forgotten that had existed in his foalhood.
Lior clears the land easily till he spies the heart shaped burned lake. It sat gaping like a lost eye with only a socket remaining. He does not shy or shutter but finds a place to make land purchase. Easy enough. The weight of the male slips from the frozen skies. He shutters the mass of his wings and is landbound till catching himself just before with a quick turn so talon and claw sink into the rocky soil. Lior stands magnificently, eyeing the surroundings, looking for threats before shrinks and implodes to that of his black stallion form. He takes time to present himself with untangled hair and unmuddied coat at lest now. "Ciri?" Lior calls outward to her, his mind pushing for her, finding her sensation wherever it may be. Deep inside, Lior is nervous despite his stony exterior. He had left Nerine but he does not know if it is permanent yet. He worries for Nayl, would she seek him now that his presence is gone? He knows he can not stay locked away any longer in the confines of his cave...and perhaps on a whim with a wild mare, he can learn what life is again.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
Weeks had passed since Gale (Not Gale, she has to remind herself) had shattered her legs and ripped open her chest. It had been the last days of summer when she had met her death in the Meadow. Eventually she had been whisked back to the Isle, back home, in the wake of Gale’s aftermath. Her legs had been healed, littered with new scars where flesh and bone had ripped and snapped. There had been a moment where they could have been healed completely, new skin that held no reminders of the horror of that night. But she wanted them. She wanted to look down at her legs and see them, to remember. As if she could ever forget.
She spent autumn in quiet contemplation. There had been the visit to the Mountain but she had yet to follow through with the fairies task in seeking out others to protect. One part had been easy to accomplish, she had not touched her magic since that day in the Meadow, when she had drawn against the daylight. It had taken weeks for the magic to return but even when she could feel it pressing against her scarred skin, she refused to use it. Something within her felt sick at the thought, recalling the way Gale had opened his jaws to swallow her stars. Just because he could. The companion stars remain, hovering protectively along her backside but they seem dimmer then normal. As if they too had suffered.
It wasn’t that the task daunted her, no, she had spent years doing exactly what was requested. She had been protecting others without magic for most of her early life, before she had fallen into the Underneath. No, what kept her from the task was herself. The physical scars had healed but the mental ones lingered. The trauma of her death was harder to overcome, a black spot in her mind that she couldn't figure out how to remove. She found herself alone most of the time, avoiding Nashua and Padme and Mourna, avoiding the others of the Isle as she tried to find that anger again that had filled her with need and purpose. Tried to find her way out of the grief she felt over the loss of her friend. Tried to find a way past her epic failure to save herself or him.
That was how all of fall had passed and winter seems to be no different. She stands alone on the blackened shores of the beach in the lower regions of the Isle, hooves pressing into the sharp glassy sands where Castile had once touched with his dragonfire. She finds her thoughts drift to him more often now after she had mistaken Leilan’s scales for his in the confusion of her pain. She looks out into the dark waters before her, the swirls of her silver eyes sluggish and brooding. For a moment she thinks she hears his voice calling her name in the wind and she flinches slightly, wondering if Gale had done something else. A harsh laugh escapes her, she wouldn’t put it past the monster to break her legs and leave her with madness.
She feels his presence behind her and turns her head slightly to see him. But it is not Castile that she finds but a different dragon. The dark stallion seems much more presentable then their last encounter. His mane and tail are clean and he seems to have put some effort into grooming himself. The tables seemed to have turned in that respect, finding her to be the raggedy one in this encounter. She doesn’t move from where she stands but there is almost a sense of relief in the breath she exhales along with his name. “Lior.” She pauses, uncertain for a moment. “Or is it you Gale, once again wearing the face of someone I know?”
Lior nears the smaller equine with heavy hooves cracked by time and splintered by war. He could heal them, remake them in iron and fire but he does not. he wishes to remain attached to the bedraggled body he has known so long. Ciri's scent is somehow different as it mingles on salt-thick air. She knows he is there but only flicks an ear with a flat voice, asking if it be him or someone named Gale. "Gale?" The name is leaden on his tongue tip as it brings forth no recognition.
Ciri is different now, silhouetted against the tear of sea air. Her voice is low and flattened, she seems defeated with her lack of care of whom could have found her so vulnerable. Lior is not sure what to do, to say. He does as he only knows and moves near her scar mapped hip and presses his nose to her warmth and exhales with silver eyes rolled to gauge her expression. He knows he could easily be struck but it does not concern him. His skin is dragon scale if he should wish it. "What are you thinking about?" Low, monotone and gruff. Lior does not know how to be oft and warm...not since Nayl but he remains close with words vibrating against her skin. Should she stroke him, he would bear it, for the mare was hurting within the barred confines of her own mind.
She drifts like morning fog but he remains close even when breaking their contact. Should the little fog mare decide to leap, Lior would snatch her up quickly from the edge of the Isle. Silver eyes watch beneath the thick dark hair, edging away to gain access to her shoulder, having yet to see the fresh plating of scars she bore.
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
There is no recognition on his tongue when he responds to her but still she is wary even as he closes the gap between them. Her muscles tighten beneath her scarred skin and she flinches slightly when his nose connects to her skin, her silver eyes wild as her head turns to meet his own bright ones. There is panic there in her gaze, a sense of being lost that hadn’t been there before. That rising anger threatens to break inside of her as she inhales sharply, looking at him as her expression turns to unexpected rage. Yet his breath is warm against her taunt hip and as she breathes him in, she recognizes his scent and a sharp gasp escapes her as he questions her thoughts, turning her head away. Ashamed.
“Death.” She whispers, unable to lie to the dragon and feeling strangely comforted by his gruffness that reverberates across her smoky flesh. That comfort reminds her of things that had been lost, things that she would never get back. Like her innocence. Or blissful ignorance of what she had thought she was until the Curse had ripped that from her too. She drifts from him but it is only so that she can finally turn to face him, exposing the savage markings across her legs and the brutal remains of what Gale had done to her chest.
“How did you become a dragon, Lior?” She asks him out of nowhere, the silver threads of her eyes beginning to spin quickly as she feels the harsh burn of anger flare within her. This slickness that spills from that tainted connection to her stars and begins to infest the rest of her, feeding on her need to not feel so fucking weak and useless.
