"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 isn’t sure why she follows the spotted girl back to her home, but she does.
The journey south is long, and Eila has ample time to reflect on her decision and what it means for her future. Lexa had been the nicest of the greedy bunch, certainly. But kindness has never been a real draw. As fleeting and ineffective as her mother’s soft words had been towards her daughter, she came to expect coldness, came to thrive under the thin ice of her dam’s gaze. She knows that the world takes far more than it gives. She knows that she is lucky to even be alive; had she faced the same choice as Emmerly on whether to keep her or not, she’s almost sure she would instead be bones bleaching on the beach.
So there is no comradery swelling in the girl’s painted chest when she spots her recruiter on the path ahead. Lexa’s motivation to bring her back to the Jungle is likely nothing more than every kingdom’s gluttonous desire for an increase in able bodies. Not that it bothers her, really. If the jungle can protect her and give her shadows to hide herself within, she will do whatever it takes to stay. And if the appaloosa proves to be a woman of substance behind the mask of an inviting face and honeyed words, perhaps she’ll find a real friendship as well.
It would be her first.
Eila can’t help but stare when the palm trees rise to great heights just ahead. Impossibly large, like the birds dipped in a myriad of colors that seem to flock around the canopies. The heat hits her then, encapsulating and sticky. She’s reminded of the warmest, most miserable summer day in the Gates as a child being multiplied tenfold. There’s a cloying smell to the air, too, that she is wholly certain is caused by the ungodly heat of the place.
“You might’ve mentioned the second sun you guys are hiding in there.” The silver-paint calls out to Lexa as they make it to the border of trees. She has to admit, though, it is impressive. And loud. Perfect for making one’s way through the kingdom completely invisible and silenced by the constant noise throughout the place. She makes to move further into the dense wall of vines and leaves but stops suddenly. For the first time in her life, she is weighted by an occasion. This is it, Eila thinks to herself. Mother will never find me here. The monsters won’t either, she hopes, but she can’t be sure of that. “Can we go in?” Suddenly meek, she looks to the spotted girl for guidance. “I can’t wait to see my new home.”
06-12-2016, 11:47 PM (This post was last modified: 06-12-2016, 11:47 PM by Lexa.)
the dead are gone
She’s surprised when the painted mare indicates she’s chosen the Amazons, but she smiles graciously and turns in the direction of the distant kingdom to lead Eila away.
The journey to the Amazons is long, being that it is the kingdom farthest from the field, and much of the trip is spent in silent concentration. Lexa personally enjoys the walk, though she has little indication of how Eila feels towards it. She hasn’t spent much time out of the Jungle lately, and she’s appreciating the chance to enjoy the scenery outside of the muggy kingdom.
But eventually, they do draw close to the Jungle itself. The vegetation grows thicker, and the air draws closer, becoming dense and warm. She glances back at her companion as the approach the border, but Eila doesn’t seem too disconcerted by the heat. Not yet anyway.
Then they reach the very edge of the trees, and the paint mare finally speaks up. Lexa turns back to her, letting out a quiet chuckle. “Sorry about that. It takes some getting used to.” Despite her larger size, Lexa is perfectly acclimatized to the warmer temperature, but she has a rather big advantage - she was born here. “There are some nice spots deeper in the Jungle where you can cool off - caves and pools and such.”
She watches as the mare’s eyes scan through the foliage ahead, likely watching the colourful birds that flit through the greenery. They certainly seem to be a popular feature amongst newcomers, though Lexa tends to find them more annoying than anything. The beastly little things have the ‘wonderful’ habit of getting up with the sun.
Eila speaks up again, asking if they can enter, and Lexa smiles. “Of course!” She turns to face the thick underbrush and utters a quick, “follow me,” before diving in. She splits the Jungle before her with blades of carbon that she pulls from the ground, trying to spare Eila from the worst of it. She doesn’t want the mare to become frustrated with the place this early!
Before too long, they reach the great clearing that makes up the centre of the kingdom, and Lexa stops to let her have a look around. “This is the central part of the kingdom, where we tend to have meetings and the like.” There aren’t any other horses about which surprises her, but the kingdom has been growing quieter as of late. “The river,” she indicates to the east with a flick of her nose, “is in that direction. And the caves that I mentioned are in that direction.” She points to the south-west. “Is there anything in particular you would like to see? Or are there any questions that you might have?”
It is entirely too quiet, and Lagertha does not like it. The toucans still squawk, and the tapirs still snuffle along the ground; the jaguars still scream in the dark of the night, and the howlers still mark their territory. But the are no sounds of hoofbeats on the hardened paths, no cries of greeting in the clearing; she cannot smell her sisters in the hot wind - except for one. Or two. They were young and strong and everything she wished the Kingdom to be, and yet none had taken notice.
Instead, they licked their wounds and retreated; it is more than infuriating. She wants to kick and scream and personally rally each and every one of the Sisters from the shadows - force them out with her spikes until she can tongue-lash them to within an inch of their lives. She wants to strip them of their tattoos and make them bleed again for the Jungle - for her, for their home - because she’s never understood abandonment. Lagertha understands the need to rest, the need to be with family, even the need to explore. But she will always come back, and she will never unexpectedly leave. How can she, when the spirit has seen into the darkest pit of her soul and observed the anger and apathy and bloodlust that is an undeniable part of her? And yet it deemed her worthy, for whatever reason, and continues to do so. There are nights when she wakes to find an unblinking, harvest-moon gaze on her, and then the tell-tale sign of pawprints in the early morning light. Once, she dreamed of Anguisette, and woke the find the jaguar curled in her daughter’s place, the way she used to do when she was a filly.
Lagertha would rage and rage and rage if it would light a fire underneath her sisters. She could, but it would be useless. The Amazonians don’t react well to that sort of thing.
Lexa, however, is another story. One of Lagertha’s pillars of her reign was that if you did the work, you would get promoted. Lyris’s daughter has done the work and outshone all others (not that there were many to outshine, but a Queen needs someone to rely on occasionally), and deserved to be rewarded. No one will ever come close to being Rhy, and when the golden mare remained missing, she’d decided she would never have another Erinak. So Bloodrider it is, and the gray mare is out in search of the spotted sister. She finds her with a new recruit at the edge of the clearing, and approaches with bold, strong strides. “Hello Lexa,” she says when she is in earshot, and then turns a neutral gaze to the silver buckskin mare that accompanies her. “And who are you?” she asks bluntly, as is her nature. The question is not a challenge, not entirely.
Lagertha knows she can’t afford to scare away any recruits right now.
07-05-2016, 02:43 PM (This post was last modified: 07-05-2016, 02:44 PM by Eila.)
“No, no,” she says in response to the appaloosa’s apology. “It makes me feel secure.” Eila ducks her head when she realizes how much she’s let on. But it is true. The heat wraps around her the same way her invisibility does, like a blanket that is pulled tight around her shoulders, keeping everything (and everyone) at a distance. She thinks she’ll be able to hide herself well within this chaotic place. Maybe, she won’t even have to disappear to stay concealed. Maybe, she won’t have to hide at all. “I like it,” she says, raising her chin once again.
And just like that, the duo enters the forest. Lexa seems eager to get going, to bring her quota home for some prize at the end of it. It causes a spark of anger to flare inside the paint’s chest. Perhaps she shouldn’t have gone to the field in the first place. She knew it would be filled with recruiters who cared more for filling their coffers than providing sanctuary to those who so desperately needed it. But desperate is exactly what she had been. Loneliness had gnawed at her very soul since the day she was born. Her mother’s cold shoulder had become its own sort of monster, an entity that clawed at her every time she tried to seek her dam’s affections. Eventually, acceptance lined the furrows in her soul; she would be her own company, her own solace.
She only hoped others would reach out in a show of altruism, too.
With a set jaw, Eila moves just behind her recruiter. No matter. If she had to act the part to live here for her own sake, she would do just that. Lexa makes it easier for them by slicing apart the undergrowth with sharp implements that seem to come out of nowhere. The silver girl tries to see around her to get a better look, but the other woman is fast. Too fast. Eila thinks it will take her years to be able to navigate these endless-looping trails and dense foliage. She’s certainly up for the challenge, though. And she has a trick of her own that will make it all the more easy.
But as they encroach further into the humid land, she starts to notice the charring. On the trunks of many of the trees, evidence of a once-raging marks them. The ground is littered with great big leaves, but underneath, she can feel the soft layer of ash, can smell the faint scent of a past burning. It is a curiosity, but she is no stranger to fire. Behind Lexa’s back, the new comer sets the end of her nose aflame. The sparks dance in her mismatched eyes; the heat engulfs her unsinged face. She swallows the spark before the other girl can notice, savoring the burn of it extinguishing down her throat. The sisters might not take too kindly to more fire, she thinks. Perhaps it will stay a secret a bit longer.
The appaloosa is a gracious (if deviant, selfish) host. She tells Eila of the purpose of each clearing and gully, informs her of the pools and caves and meeting places scattered throughout the kingdom. The paint girl nods every time, too overwhelmed with all the information and her own thoughts to supply any other sign of understanding. They are alone, though, and that makes the girl marginally bolder.
Until Lagertha comes, that is. The grey woman towers over the small abstang. And if she had felt relatively safe with Lexa (the black and white horse had given her no reason to fear her), she feels her bravery being leeched away with every step the khaleesi takes towards her. Instead, a cold resolve fills all the empty furrows her mother’s abandonment had carved in her. Her legs disappear unconsciously before she can stop herself; her invisibility is like an instinct that’s never failed to keep her alive so far. But even if she is afraid, her face becomes steel to match the warrior’s. “I am Eila,” she says, her knees shaking but (thankfully) invisible. She wonders what shadows lie in this woman of authority’s head, wonders if she will learn them as intimately as her own – wonders if they will keep her long enough to find out. “Lexa made the Jungle seem like my best option of the bunch.” She lights a spark then, though only verbal. “I hope she is not wrong.”
