"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
Their scent had been painfully obvious over the acrid, bittersweet stench of death. Jah-Lilah’s particular aroma had struck the sandy-colored wolf right in the nose; as soon as he’d drifted past another pile of bleached bones, it’d wafted up on a draft of warm, salty air and stopped Crevan dead in his tracks.
His ears flattened and his lips curled, the fur between his shoulders stood rigid in anger, but all the animosity he could muster wouldn’t be enough to change the fact that her trail was perhaps a day or two old at best. Lucky for her, because in that moment Crevan might have forsaken his vow to never take another life again.
Still, it was enough rage that he swallowed what little embers of the horse spirit he had left inside of him and allowed for the wolf to fully take over. Instinct guided the shaggy beast, driving his nose to the earth and his feet into a steady gallop so that he could leave the beach and its memories far behind. Ahead the plains and the fields stretched out with welcoming arms, their grass and silty earth falling flat underneath his immortal paws when the wolf passed over them.
As night drew up her black hood, Crevan broke past the first few saplings at the edge of the timid Forest and lost Jah’s scent to the pine and sap. Heaving a massive chest in exhaustion he snarled, gnashing white teeth in the darkness and jumping madly from root to root without much success at sniffing her out again. But he was close, so close; her scent was not so faint.
To the west lay Loess. To the north, Hyaline. The shape-shifter hedged his bets on the Eastern territories and spurred himself on through the woods, surmising that even if his guess had been wrong and Jah was not to be found in the city of mountains, the pure absence of her familiar smell would tell him before he ranged too deeply into protected land.
Like a wandering spirit, the wraith wolf soon passed into the outer hills of Hyaline and there he slowed to a padding walk. His eyes, barely lit by the backdrop of stars and a crescent of pale moon, seemed to glow with a life of their own as he heedlessly ignored the boundaries of the mountain horses and slunk deeper through the rocky valleys.
He would come across someone soon, or someone would come across him. Perhaps, he thinks, it may be exactly who I’m searching for.
don't get cut on my edges ─ I'm the king of everything and oh my tongue is a weapon
He is renewed.
It shows in the energetic tilt of his walk and the attentiveness of his ears. Bright fire gleams in his molten amber eyes, lit from within at this opportunity handed to him but Solace and Kagerus. His return to Beqanna had been enough to satiate his homesickness, but still there was a love for Hyaline that grasped tight at Amet's heart and refused to let go. He had decided that he could, and would, happily live within the sanctuary territory that he had founded with his sister ─ but now simply a diplomat, a friendly recruiter, a familiar face.
The Caretakers of the Sanctuary, the eastern kingdom, had different ideas in mind for him. And for that, his gratitude knows no bounds.
So it's with reborn vigor that he concludes his nighttime journey back to Hyaline from Silver Cove, moonlight dancing on the gilded scales of his back as he moves swiftly between scattered trees and into various minuscule clearings. Towards the lake he moves, knowing that the branches of his favorite wisteria sway heavily with fragrant blooms and await the soon-to-be sleeping dragon.
But as a gentle breeze coaxes his attention towards it, Amet realizes that he had other plans before he can force himself to sleep and wait for the rosey-fingered dawn that signals a new day for him to introduce himself to Kensa and then travel to the Field for a day of recruiting.
Crevan.
The scent is vaguely familiar, but it's enough to jog his memory of the wolf. It all comes back to him in a tide as he adjusts his path to head in the direction of the canine ─ Circinae, Jah-Lilah, Canaan... So much had happened before he had disembarked from Beqanna. And while nearly seven years had come and gone, he's still uncertain how the wolf-shifter will receive him.
"Welcome, Crevan," he calls to the wraith-wolf as his pale coat comes into view. Amet's ears remain pricked forward as he pulls his own dragonhide frame to a halt to regard the man of his past with a polite smile and, admittedly, taut muscles. "Surely you didn't venture here just to welcome me back to Hyaline."
03-05-2019, 12:41 PM (This post was last modified: 03-05-2019, 12:42 PM by Crevan.)
Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
Crevan feels the approach of Amet nearly the same instant he smells the dragon-like horse. Scales, like bright copper coins flattened and layered over his skin, give a metallic scent to air. He tips his brown nose to the side and whuffs quietly, tasting the aroma which hadn’t crossed his path in years, and shudders as the force of Amet’s nihilism smothers the wolf spirit inhabiting his soul. With the painful lurch of his gut and a wrenching jerk of his shoulders, Crevan shapeshifts from a large canine to a heavy, dark-colored stallion just before the Hyaline horse goes quiet again.
“You undead freak.” He spits, unsteady on legs which would be familiar to nearly every other Beqanna horse. The last time he ran as a stallion it had been for Merida, when they’d coupled together. Shiya had come from that bond and ever since, Crevan had firmly remained as a wolf with his fox family. This body had never suited him. “Imagine my surprise, coming across mother’s grave only to smell it defiled by Jah-Lilah.” He tried to snarl.
“Have you all come back, then? Is my worthless brother around here somewhere, complaining? Has Canaan come too? Wait- ” He pauses, ears flat against his neck, “I forgot that his speciality was being invisible nearly two-thirds of my life. Of course he wouldn’t have tagged along.”
If only this were a joke being shared between two longtime friends, then maybe Crevan could laugh. The reality of that statement, however, was too serious to be denied. It dripped sarcasm, tainted with barely veiled hate. “You reek of the red gypsy. Even in this shape I can smell her coming off you in waves.” The wolf-shifter rumbled in his chest, totally motionless. In the heavy dark he seemed almost black in color; only the glint of his wild eyes winked now and then with the movement of his head.
Around them Hyaline fell into a hush. What little creatures scurried about at night had all fled, driven away by harsh words and heavy hooves. Only the wind rustled through the leaves, obscuring the night sky above as the treetops swayed. “I don’t want to catch either of you there again, Amet.” The younger immortal snorts. “Tell Jah she’s lucky I didn’t find her.”
So this took forever and I’m SORRY @[Amet] @[Jah-Lilah]
03-07-2019, 12:38 AM (This post was last modified: 03-07-2019, 12:49 AM by Jah-Lilah.)
Jah-Lilah
lightening strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
Don’t lose your way with each passing day.
A bittersweet aura surrounded the hopeless wanderer as she made her way casually to the Dragon-King’s once-and-always territory. The trek was lengthy, but welcome. It felt like eons had passed her by since she had departed on her pilgrimage to find her progeny, her journey was like discovering Beqanna all over again. Things had changed, time had passed, but the land was as bountiful and stunning as ever.
Jah-Lilah had said one more final goodbye wrapped in a song and a prayer to her dear departed, then had followed the coastline until it brought her to the mouth of the river. The life-giving fresh water had accompanied her North, it was both her faithful companion and her guide as she traversed through the heart of Beqanna to find Hyaline. The Plains were open and warm, reminding her of the untamed place where she had spent her childhood, it almost filled her with sorrow to leave them behind.
Her malachite eyes witnessed the newcomers pouring into the realm, some filled with excitement and wonder, others timid, seeking a herd and family with the first beast they could so desperately cling to. The wytch can’t help but recall her first day here, and again she finds herself grinning as she weaves her way betwixt the forest and the meadow. When the trees part they reveal a sight for weary eyes, the endless expanse of mountains jutting haphazardly into the sky. They are remarkable but organized chaos, each piece of earth fitting into the next like a puzzle that surely only the Earth-Mother had the answer to. When she finally enter the territory, she is filled to the brim with stimuli, and each new smell and sound awakens her love for this life a little more.
Her Dragon-King has painted the countryside with his scent, and it makes her feel instantly secure here, there is a consistency in her life that he provides that she’s never possessed and never had the desire for until now. Until him. Suddenly she misses her Wolf-of-the-Water again, but fights the urge to flee back to the Beach, back to solitude. Another odor hits her now though, and it causes her to stand up straight and pay attention. Her ears are erect and her eyes scan the place for him, her nostrils flaring and sucking in all the air they can, she’s straining to find the source. My sorceress is desperately looking for Crevan.
He is here, and he is furious. His soul pressure is crushing, all his fire and brimstone is on display, and it is all for her. The red wytch has the inkling that he may take her immortal life today. If that was what the Earth-Mother had planned for her though, what could she do to prevent it? Without warning, voices, not one but two she is incredibly familiar with, reach her ears. Steeling herself for whatever may be ahead, she licks her lips and creeps closer, trying to remain silent as possible so she can focus on locating the stallions. It doesn’t take her long.
There is her rock, solid and stoic, so even-tempered and loving. The scaled desert stallion greets the changeling with the diplomacy and warmth he is known for, and her heart skips a beat. Observing the pain that her colt goes through when the Dragon-King’s nihilism touches him and he is forced into his birth form wounds her, causes her to wince as he wobbles on stilts not unlike the day he was born. Fire-Fang is as handsome as she remembers him, if not a little more. He has a ruggedness to him that is obtained only by hard times and broken hearts, and it suits his fierce nature. He has never enjoyed his equine form, all the years she spent with him as a family she can remember only a handful of times he chose hooves instead of paws, and it is obvious now as she watches him.
He is cursing and raising hell, and when he calls her name not once, but twice, she can stand it no more. Swallowing hard, she tosses her mane and holds her delicate head high, prepared to have an overdue and certainly confrontational reunion with the male. ”I am here, Fire-Fang, and I didn’t come to desecrate my love’s grave nor be a thorn in your side contrary to your belief.”
The mare had heard him bellowing about his wayward brother, and cursing his vagabond sperm-donor. If only she could find the right words to explain to her child that his sire had abandoned her and their daughter as well, that she understood some of his anger more than he knew. When she is well within striking range she halts. The woman comes with no ill-will, no threats or agitating body language, she comes to her once-son ready for whatever needs to happen next, ready for him.
You’ve come so far, don’t throw it away.
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain
Crevan's shifting is uncomfortable to watch. There had only been a handful of times that Amet had ever seen him in his equine form and it's quite obvious in the uncertainty of his hooves and gangly legs that the son of Circinae and Canaan had hardly, if ever, parted from his canine form during the years the Dragon-King had been away. And though it tugs at his heartstrings, nearly coaxing him to withdraw the nihilism that seeps like tendrils into Crevan's magic, Amet cannot bear to think what the tightly-coiled male could do with tooth and claw if he allowed him to remain as a wolf in the midst of Hyaline.
Especially with Jah-Lilah so close. The red soothsayer may be ready to be ushered away from the mortal world if the earth-mother decides it's her time, but he isn't.
"Defiled?"" he repeats incredulously, ears twisting to stand at half-mast as he grows instantly defensive of Jah-Lilah. The red wytch had always, and would always, care for Circinae ─ and if there is one thing that the dragonhide stallion knows about the gold-dust woman, it's that her heart is large and ever-expansive; never does it fill to the brim. Instead it grows with time and with her exponential love. There's no chance in this world or any other that she would defile Circinae's grave.
Amet bites his tongue. He's not given much choice, either way, as Crevan's words continue through his snarls. Unlike his choice words about Jah-Lilah, the biting insults towards Corvus and Canaan do very little to affect Hyaline's Primarch. He'd never had much chance to get to know Crevan's brother, and Canaan's affinity for the wind had turned him into just that.
Good riddance.
He can sense Jah's presence before he can see her. His soul aches for hers and though her arrival to this reunion draws a cold anxiety into the center of his chest, it also settles his taut muscles knowing that she's there. He tries not to let it show in the way he holds his gilded frame, both certain and stoic, against the tumultuous and dangerous sea that is Crevan.
His final words, a threat against the red wytch, finally pulls Amet's lips away from his blunted teeth. While they are less than formidable against the wolf's blood that he knows Crevan to possess, outward anger from Amet is rare and not to be taken lightly.
I am here, Fire-Fang, she says as she pulls herself away from the confines of the dark forest and into the open. Her red body moves within striking distance of the wolf-shifter, as if in slow motion, and Amet's heart threatens to beat out of his chest as he waits expectantly for Crevan's reaction to the red wytch who stands before him, a ghost from his past.
─ don't get cut on my edges @[Crevan] & @[Jah-Lilah] ♥
As his guts spilled out in the form of a cathartic tongue-lashing, Crevan can feel the weight of so many years beginning to lift clear of his shoulders. When Jah arrives, her shadowy head lifted and her eyes staring down at him with that same disapproving look Crevan knew so well, the energy for being deathly angry has all but left him. His dark brown shoulders are moving up and down in the quiet dark as he huffs from lack of air, one side of his mouth curled up like Amet’s to show useless, blunt teeth.
“You don’t get to call me that.” The wolf-shifter mutters while Jah-Lilah finishes up. His childhood name would never sound the same coming from her lips. Anyways, the ability to spit flame had all but sputtered out years before. If anything, Crevan was Iron-Fang now. They could clearly see it in the pale gleam of the moon’s pewter-colored light: at the root of each bared tooth a silvery type of metal gleamed whenever he spoke.
The core of him was made of the same material. He couldn’t break his bones anymore, in fact nothing short of metal-type magic or powers could. Crevan didn’t need fire on his side, not when he was practically indestructible. “Enlighten me then. Nothing short of personal gain would bring you two back, so what is it? Hmm?” He questions them both, making out their shapes in the night.
Perhaps they’d forgotten how it’d ended, (Amet wasn’t even in the picture much) but Crevan could never forget. Their family had split in as violent a manner as they’d come together, leaving everyone splintered and bitter. Nyxa, the sister Crevan would never meet, had been left in the dust of that battle. Abandoned on Ischia to make her own way and ever since then he’d heard nothing about her. The probability of her being dead haunted the navy-maned stallion.
“Come for a crown? Amet? Jah-Lilah?” He presses them further, the tone of his voice rising in frustration. He has no idea that what he mocks the dragon-horse for has already happened. Against all odds the three of them are what remains from a once notoriously successful family, and despite everything it seems they’ve all ended up right where they started.
Jah-Lilah the mother, maiden, crone, Amet the king, father, philosopher. Crevan the nomad, killer, brother.
The colt she has loved and tended to as if she birthed him spits venom and hatred, and Jah-Lilah cannot find it in her to defend his sibling, nor his sire. Wincing inwardly, her only tell is a slight twitching at the corners of her eyes as daggers are thrown, she doesn’t even try to dodge them. It would be different if he feelings were based on words unfounded, but he isn’t wrong about the vagabond pegasus. She had fell victim to his spell as well, and is reminded constantly of the blindness that afflicted her while in the whirlwind of his love.
However, he had gave her Crevan, and Gypsy. He had served his purpose and moved on in the world. For that she could be nothing but thankful, however great the anguish she carried inside her.
The anxiety seeps from her Dragon-King’s pores like sweat in the summer, and she knows she is the cause of his troubles. When she passes by him to present herself to Fire-Fang, she shoulders him gently, reminding him that they share a load now. His worries are hers, and vice-versa. He trusts her wholly, and does not move to stop her when she approaches the other stallion, she ponders for a moment on how she could ever express her gratitude for this. His support and protectiveness of her knows no boundaries, and she pulls on this courage now, taking it into her heart and trying to remain strong. Sighing heavily as Crevan rejects her using his old moniker, she takes another potentially reckless step towards him.
And she can see he is changed. Just like a faint stream of electricity runs constantly right below the surface of her pelt, the colt no longer runs hot with flame in his throat. When he shifts his body just so, the light catches on him and he gleams not unlike her own reptilian suitor. Precious metal, she realizes. It matter not what he is now, he is and forever will be her little Fire-Fang, as long as the sorceress takes breath into her lungs. Her heart aches even now as she looks upon him. Oh how she has failed him and his mother in her absence. Never has the red woman felt the vile tinge of regret in all her immortal years, but she suspects it is what she’s experiencing now. Opening her mouth to voice these thoughts of hers, she is cut off sharply before she can utter one word. More accusations, painful statements from a boy still in pain, still tormented by ghosts long gone.
He questions her motives, her mate’s motives, and he is justified in his suspicions. Years have passed, and she has not been here for him like she was when he was but a youngling. ”Fire-” halting herself, she starts again. ”My son, please. Say and do as you please when it comes to me, but you know as well as I the Dragon-King has nothing to do with any of this.” Casting an apologetic and sheepish look at the golden monarch behind her, she never meant to drag him through all of this. ”I honestly don’t know what called me back, young one. Maybe family, maybe a yearning to finally find my place somewhere...maybe even you. I don’t wanna lie to you, I have no clue why I’m here again.” Again he cuts in, swift and ice cold.
The dark haired stallion has a ferocity behind his eyes that my copper wytch has only noticed in predators, and she is aware that it is a product of all his time in that handsome yet deadly lupine form. He wears it so well, almost too well. It is unsettling and exciting all at once, and although he seeks to use canine body language to threaten and intimidate her, she doesn’t back down, doesn’t shy awake. Still she loves him so, even is he will be the demise of her. All Jah can see in him is the gangly, diminutive foal that burst through the foliage with an overwhelmed, panicked Circinae chasing after him. When he accuses her of seeking a place in the court of the royal, she nearly bursts into laughter. ”Me?” She says incredulously, disbelief plain as day on her face. ”When have you ever known me to give a flying fuck about a title? About a crown? The only time I ever even paid attention to politics was when the Wolf-of-the-Water desired a kingdom of her own, and I would have followed her to hell and back. I love her, son. And I love you.”
Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she braces herself and says a silent prayer. When she opens them again, she tilts her dainty head and reaches out to him, top lip wiggling. The weary mare longs to touch him, to hold him, to tell him everything was going to be alright, and the Earth-Mother’s plan would be revealed in time. Exhaling, she blows hard several times, sides moving in and out rapidly in anticipation. Softly, she speaks to him. If there were any others in the vale now save the three of them, they wouldn’t hear a word. That’s alright though, these words weren’t meant for them.
”Fire-Fang, I’m so sorry for hurting you. The Wind, your sire...he abandoned me as well, but not before making me a mother. I shouldn’t have left you like he did, like they all did, but I’m here now.” Hopeful, her muscles tremble beneath her skin as she stands across from her firstborn, heart thumping so obnoxiously in her ears it nearly deafens her.
Wonders are waiting to start.
there will be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown
There's discomfort and a great amount of difficulty in remaining still while Jah-Lilah inches herself closer and closer to Crevan. She offers him support and kindness and a bravery that Amet is not yet capable of seconding; he has only just fused his heart with hers, and to watch her offer herself to the wolf-shifter no matter what he may do gives the dragonhide stallion heart palpitations.
She also gives the scorned stallion the truth, perhaps the most important thing she could do. She doesn't lie about why she has returned (though, truth be told, he is here for Hyaline), does not offer him false sweetness to curb the angry that still flickers in his eyes. The red soothsayer has always been skilled at communication, at entwining her soul with others and carrying them back from the depths of their despair, and he watches with a hopeful and bated breath that she can do the same for Crevan.
In turn, the stallion of gold and bronze scales remains silent. Situations like this have always been Jah-Lilah's forte more than his, and her history with the wolf-shifter spans back further than his ever did. Nevertheless, his muscles remain taut and his brow furrowed as he tries to concentrate on the red wytch's words and not the potential danger she has placed herself in.
Of course, she does not help his worries as she proceeds to step closer. He can feel the way she aches to touch Crevan and the tremble in her voice when she tells him the outcome of her relationship with Canaan. All of it pains him, compounding his emotions and pulling a shaky breath from his clenched teeth.
Reluctantly, he takes a step backward just as the red wytch steps forward, giving the pair a bit more room and privacy as their fiery reunion comes towards what could be its climax, his molten amber eyes never leaving the two of them, not even for a second.
─ don't get cut on my edges @[Crevan] @[Jah-Lilah] ♥
He wanted to wolf-shift the second Jah opened her mouth. It felt like he was shaking to release the primal side and only the tense, overbearing gaze of Amet stopped him. Why did she think that dredging up old names or calling him ‘son’ would make him happy? This wasn’t like before where she could order him and his brother around, because Circinae had somewhere to go, something to do and that meant aunt Jah was in charge. Hadn’t she looked around their plagued world? Hadn’t they both been down to the beach, where even the shoreline had shifted and changed after so long?
Circinae was dead. Nothing was ever going to be the same.
He watched her with similarly open, disbelieving eyes and saw how she formed the word with a scoff: Me?
As if it were an impossible thing. He frowned, the action lost to the darkness surrounding them all. There wasn’t any use in being angry over the delusional. He’d heard the way she referred to Amet as Dragon-King, and considered that a less-than-subtle hint. Apparently politics only interested Jah-Lilah when a partner was involved, or didn’t he remember?
As his mother’s familial name slides off the red gyps tongue, Crevan’s eyes stray past the mare and watch Amet for a moment. The scaled horse looked… tense. When Crevan focused he could clearly see the tight line of his golden jaw, where the stallion had been clenching his teeth. He realized a slender thread of his power was breaking through, giving him acute vision. Suddenly the dark didn’t seem so dark anymore.
I love you, Jah said, and Crevan shifted his gaze back. He blinked and listened for something that might make sense or even matter, but when the dark bay wytch paused he could only shake his head. He knew that she wanted him to stretch out and greet her nose to nose, like they always had, but instead he followed Amet and slid his legs back. He wanted to be far, far away from her comfort. “You don’t get it.” He grumbled. “She let go of you and my dad a long time ago. You two were immortal and she wasn’t, so we left to get away from you.”
Except that same curse afflicted Crevan, too. Apparently it was attached to all present, since they seemed equally healthy and unafflicted by a black flux ravaging Beqanna. “I don’t love you anymore and I don’t feel sorry you fell for Canaan’s tricks. I don’t love, period.” He spelled it out for her plainly. Not when it meant losing someone like Circinae, or even worse someone like Merida. He was sick and tired of loving. “I came to tell you to stay away because that’s what she would’ve wanted.”
“Yea I’m pissed at you. Not at you -” He turned briefly to Amet, “- not really. Now I want you to let her go.” Crevan finished with Jah-Lilah.
He gulped and steadied his feet, feeling a sweat begin to break out across his skin. Inside himself he could feel a tugging sensation, like something struggling against invisible binds so he exhaled and let it free, ripping his pelt and shifting to wolf in one painful, sweeping motion. His groan became a throaty snarl when he turned, panting, to view the other two horses again. “Don’t worry about me.” He clacked through a mouthful of sharp teeth, his shaggy body rising and falling with each deep breath,“I know where you both live now. We’ll see each other again.”
@[Amet] @[Jah-Lilah] Doesn't have to be an end! He'll stick around to hear if they have anything to say <3
