[private] the hand that pulled me through the center of the night was you

[Agetta]

At first, Agetta did not plan on returning to the Gates once she heard they were back. That part of her life had ended, and there were too many memories wrapped up in those rolling green hills and wispy willow branches.

But here she is anyway, with Garbage beside her, and the entire thing feels surreal. Like they are walking side-by-side into a dream.

She is quiet at first as they move through wildflower-strewn meadows and see the expansive lavender field. The early morning air is sweet with the scent of the blooms and it troubles her.

“I don’t know if it has changed or if my memory of it has morphed over time…” She tells him, unable to bring her voice above a whisper. There is so much of this place that she does not recognize but small pieces of it do jump out at her. She cannot remember where she died that first time even though that memory had once felt so vivid. Cannot distinguish where it is she used to hold meetings or the space that she had clashed in a war the first time she ever shifted into a snow leopard. Was this the same copse of trees where she had refused to look at her first foal, so deep was her shame? The same meadows where she stood under starlit skies and discovered what love felt like for the first time?

So many firsts. The memories are there just as she suspected but they are behind a veil - understandable, considering how many countless years separate her from where she is now and that young black mare she had been.

She stops and reaches for him, letting the familiar feeling of her muzzle against his skin ground her wandering thoughts. “Did you ever visit here? Back… before.”

AGETTA

@garbage

[garbage]

he must be wicked to deserve such pain;

He has not set foot in a kingdom since the Deserts. That had been lifetimes ago, and he a different man – but he remembers too well the heat of the sands, the way they rolled underfoot, never solid.
(How Craft had looked at him, her disgust turning to fear. The smell of blood on the sand under the hot, relentless sun. The crack of hoof on bone – first hers, then his.)
(He should have died in the Deserts. And he would have, if the magician hadn’t saved him.)
But this is not the Deserts. And he is a different man.
And one who would do anything for Agetta. He would walk through the gates of hell for her. He’d seen her face when news of the Gates’ reemergence came, and knew of course they would go, that it was part of her – a part he didn’t know much of, for that had been before their time.

He moves with her through the vibrant land, so lush and unlike the Deserts. He feels the faint thrum of anxiety, but it’s low, background. She does that to him, calms the shrieks to whispers, another reason to love her, to come here with her.
“No,” he says softly, “never.”
He wants to change the subject, not to dwell on his history with kingdoms of any kind.
“How does it feel?” he asks, “to be back?”

garbage

image credit

@Agetta

[Agetta]

“It doesn’t feel real.” Like a dream or a nightmare, she thinks - but keeps that comparison to herself. They had both had far too much of the latter of those two, she does not want to bring any more bad luck upon them by openly vocalizing the idea.

As they stand close, she feels like she should share some stories, but picking apart what was true and what has been morphed by her memory is just as difficult as trying to remember the landscape. “I was queen here, for a while. I had been adopted by the general at the time and I started in and then rose through the army like her - not diplomacy.” Agetta smiles because it is so strange to think about now, when she had allowed herself to forget for so many years she had once been a warrior - that she had always been willing to die for those she loved. She had forgotten she was capable of that and missed her chance to fight so many battles because she was convinced she was lesser than she was. “That was back before I died - before I was killed that first time - back when my coat was as dark as yours and there was no magic in my veins.”

These are the shallow versions of the stories - and that's all Agetta is willing to wade through at the moment. It's been hard work, allowing herself to let go of the past and leave it where it lies - and a part of her can't help that think of course this is when the Gates would make a re-emergence.

“This was where I first became a ghost.” She means it metaphorically, though she supposes it might work literally as well, and the thought eases a frown onto her face as she looks across the too-colourful land. She remembers only pieces of those long, watchful years. When she could not die but felt so detached from the generations that had sprung up to replace her friends and family.

AGETTA

@garbage