"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
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
He had been told that before, that he is a charmer, and he was unsure of how to feel about it. On one hand, he was flattered by it—pleased of the implied meaning that he made those around him feel good about themselves. On the other hand, he did not like the snaking truth of manipulation; he did not like that others may assume his words were meant to deceive or coerce others into making certain decision. That aspect of the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. He, of course, does not put all of this onto her, and he just smiles his roguish, crooked smile, gold-flecked eyes flashing kindly. “I sure am something.”
What he was…well that was often beyond even him.
Walking alongside her, he caught some of the changes in her expression, but did not comment on them, instead turning his gaze outward toward the rest of the kingdom where the members milled about, slept, or even left for the field. It was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of a pulse; it was the rumblings of a giant who was waking from slumber. Nothing filled him with more pride than that. Nothing ever would.
“No man worth his salt would promise you the world,” he finally responds. “I believe you could help fashion the Gates into something great; I believe you could write your name into the history books here. But can I affirm that?” He shakes his head, smile a little sad, “I can’t. I won’t. I respect you too much to promise you something I cannot personally deliver.” A thoughtful pause, “But I believe in what you can accomplish—believe in you, believe in the untapped potential here.” He laughs a little, “Although, and this is against my better interests, I believe you could accomplish something wherever you choose as home. Some people just strike me as someone who wants to change the world. You are one of them.”
She does not notice how he associates her words with something bad. Although she had to admit that he wasn’t bad company, she also couldn’t say that she cared for him. Next to that Esileif put herself in the center of her world and even though she was aware that her world was worth nothing without others, she still had to learn a lot on that matter. And therefor she offers him a half smile half smirk in response.
His words had already convinced her, but wasn’t ready to voice it out yet. The two toned girl is silent as her gaze travels across the Gates’ lands. This could be here home, the place she could thrive and rise, the place that could help her show her potential to whole Beqanna. But most important, Esileif would be able to show that she, and not her gifted siblings, was the best. As she stands there she can feel it and even though she doesn’t see that many residents around that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. The land mourns for her loss – the previously burned lands and tree are the evidence of that – but there is also new life, new power, that silently and steadily goes for revenge.
”You disappoint me there, Magnus. But I guess it doesn’t matter” she eventually replies, turning to look at him with a small smile adorning her lips. She pauses for another moment, her eyes wandering across the golden male and rest for a moment upon his new wings. ”I would’ve to make it work myself. You are right, it is something that cannot be promised by another, as I have to accomplish those things and nobody else can in my place.” And she still could not, then she would’ve to seek for it somewhere else.
Esileif moves forward again, a calm but confident step and with her neck elegantly curved and head held high. Just like her Spanish ancestors she was a proud being, sanguineous and persistent too. Yes, she would give the Gates her all, but only as long as the kingdom could benefit her. ”Heaven’s Gates” she murmurs to herself, as she proceeds through the lands.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
She says that he disappoints her, and although he knows that she is joking, he frowns momentarily before brushing it off. At the end of the day, he had to be true to his own moral compass—as twisted and dark as it may be. While it may be easier to get recruits with pretty lies and grand promises, it wasn’t his style; he wouldn’t feel right luring them here and then disappointing them in the end. He fully believed the Gates was capable of attracting quality souls all on her own; she did need his false embellishments.
He has no way of knowing that she has made her decision, but he feels at peace that he has said his part; he feels confident that he has done whatever he can to equip her to make this decision. Magnus recognizes the magnitude of the choice before her—all of the ways that it will eventually shape her life. Even if her time at the Gates is but a season, a temporary stay, it will become part of her DNA. It always does.
So he walks in silence beside her for several minutes, eagle wings tugged into his sides, as they continue to make their way around the kingdom, the fellow residents stirring gently. They were by and large a quiet kingdom, but there had been a recent influx of new blood; he knew that the kingdom would not be quiet for long—especially if Esileif chose to make it her home. “So,” he finally breaks the silence, turning his handsome head to meet her gaze, “is there anything else you’d like to see or would you prefer that I escort you elsewhere?” He did not want to rush her, but he also did not want her to feel like she was trapped.
She tries to take everything in, to look take in the Gates’ beautify and its potential. No, not the Gates’ potential, but her own. She tries to picture her own potential, the things she herself could achieve and reach here. There were plenty of ways to serve the kingdom and although the serving itself isn’t the her objective, no it’s the path to her goals. And even though she is only a child at heart, she knows that she should have some sort of deeper connection too if she wants to be able to serve. At least the place is gorgeous, and Esileif honestly wouldn’t mind it at all to call such a beautiful place home.
Her two toned gaze moves back to Magnus when he speaks up, a small smile adorning her lips as she waits for him to continue. ”Please show me the things you think we haven’t passed yet. I honestly cannot really think of things to be shown, as I don’t know any of it yet” she replies, her gaze travelling away to look over the lands again. ”Oh.” The soft sound just escapes her lips and her smile is changed for a wide enthusiastic (youthful) grin as she remembers something. ”Would you mind to show me the tree? I hope that’s not too much to ask, but I heard something about it and honestly, I’m quite curious to see how it works.”
Esileif
Belgarath x Alasia
Photograph by Filmwerx Studio
OOC: Sorry this took so long, wanted to continue the thread with Fennick and Gallows first. I'm currently quite stuck and not really sure which way to go with Esi..
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
Magnus understands the indecision that rests at the bottom of this conversation; he even appreciates it as, to him, it means that she is giving this decision the weight that it deserves. So he does not think to begrudge her the time that this meeting is taking—does not think to be upset about how long they spend talking and walking around the kingdom, dancing around the subject of recruitment. Instead, the buckskin stallion takes genuine pleasure in her company, watching her with a golden gaze, his smile easy, languid.
“It would be my pleasure,” he responds kindly, gesturing toward the large tree that grew near the heart of the kingdom, its branching sprawling outward. With that, he begins to walk toward it, matching his gait to the speed of her own and letting silence fall between them for several moments. The last thing that he wanted was to pressure her with more inquiries or crowd her with perceived expectations. If she had any questions, he would gladly answer them, but he was content to simply show her more of the kingdom.
As they near the tree, he comes to a stop, tilting his handsome head back slightly to take it in. For a moment, he looks at it—wondering what it had been like in its prime—before glancing back down toward her. “This is our Mother Tree.” His scarred lips break into a smile. “I must admit that it was both before and after my time, so I never did see it when it was truly grand, but I have heard that it was a sight to be seen. Perhaps one day it will reach its full splendor once more.” Magnus then looks down to the garden growing around it, the scars of both fire and insidious poison still present but fading.
“This is our garden—our kingdom’s magical entity.” The magic was beyond his understanding, but he was beginning to comprehend it. “If you eat of the fruit, you can be prompted to speak the truth. If you drink of the water that feeds it, you may be gifted with traits during time of distress.” He laughs lightly, the sound rich in his throat. “At least, that is what I have been told. I have not tried it myself just yet.”
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