"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
The grullo appaloosa grumbles to herself all the way from the Jungle to the Gates, stopping every once in a while to rant at the nearby foliage. Her belly has expanded at what she thinks is an unnatural rate, making walking, at times, a rather uncomfortable business.
It’s probably because of Gaza’s size, when she thinks about it. The Desert boy is a black behemoth, and it would make sense for the kid to inherit some of his well, height. Bloody hell though, it’s not pleasant. Maybe she should cash in that favour with Prague and have the magician get him pregnant. Would serve him right, the turd. She hadn’t even planned on having a kid - watching Scorch give birth had put her right off all of that. But Gaza had just haaaad to come in being all handsome and smooth and seductive …
Ugh.
She’s still grumbling when she reaches the border of the Gates. She probably could have held off this trip to the Gates - both Lagertha and Emmerly would have likely understood - but she doesn’t particularly want to let being pregnant hold her back. She will keep being active, come hell or high water!
The air is a little chilly, so she pulls the clouds away from in front of the sun and settles in to wait. Hopefully Emmerly, or even another Gates member will be along soon.
From above, the wicked shall receive their just reward
A week ago Kronk wouldn’t have been wary of strangers. A week ago, Kronk would have loved to meet a stranger. His nature was a happy one, but things had changed quickly. He had since come to understand the saying, “adapt or die.” Watching your home burn down around you had that affect.
That being said, Kronk wasn’t sure if it was his attachment to the Gates or the utter sense of failure that caused him this deep, wrenching pain. He steadfastly considered himself a Gates man, but the union was a new one. On the other hand, Kronk’s sense of honor and responsibility had been with him for as long as he could remember.
But, he had failed, plain and simple, and that stuck in his craw like a weeping, festering wound. Still, when he spotted the newcomer, Kronk tried not to overreact. If the attack caused the Gate’s to abandon their hospitality then the Chamber really would have won. So, it was with sense of urgency, but not hostility, that Kronk approached her. He wasn’t suspicious, per say, but it was hard not to be watchful with the charred remains of the Mother Tree stood not 50 feet away.
The mare smelled like the Jungle, like pungent flowers an climbing vines. Kronk relaxed a little, but still he looked at her carefully, taking note of who she was. He summoned a smile from somewhere on his pinched, tired face.
“Hello ma’am. Do you have business with the Gates? Can I help you find someone?” Again, he hoped he didn’t sound too much like a cop. Perhaps, she would forgive him if he came off as abrupt. Apparently, these days, you couldn’t be too careful.
09-26-2015, 11:39 AM (This post was last modified: 09-26-2015, 11:39 AM by Emmerly.)
It’s been a few days or more, but she can still smell the smoke.
It clings to her everywhere: her hair, her coat. She makes no effort to remove it. She could have brushed against the surviving willows just beyond the burned-out Mother Tree. She could have rolled in the light blanket of snow that now covers the land. But it’s a reminder of her failures to stop the Chamber (for they collectively agreed it was the piney kingdom) and save her queen (her friend, even) – she’s loath to forget them just yet.
Emmerly hadn’t seen Fiasko being led away by the brazen raiders. She had heard, from the pieces of the story that the remaining Gates citizens had stitched together, that they’d taken her. They must have something over her for the scarred woman to be so compliant, but what? The paint wonders if it is something they can win back, wonders if a stealthy few of them could sneak in and rescue both the queen and her bargaining chip…
She shakes her head as a light breeze comes up. It is a foolish thought, if well-meaning. Their army is pathetically small, as proven by their defense against the raiders. The Chamber could have done so much more damage than they had. With as little resistance as they had met with, the once-evil kingdom could have absolutely decimated them if they wanted to. But they hadn’t. They had taken Fiasko, burned the great tree (and some of the garden, she thinks) and left in a hurry. They hadn’t touched a hair on Mast’s head in all of the chaos, surprisingly leaving him on the throne. If a sub-kingdom hadn’t been their intended goal, what was their motivation?
The wind changes directions suddenly, bringing a familiar scent across the border. The light changes, too, with the sun quickly emerging from behind the clouds. Emmerly looks up to the blazing orb, a trace of a smile flashing across her lips in recognition. Lyris. She makes her way towards the woman, noticing that Kronk has already beat her to the punch in greeting her. Em hadn’t expected the Amazon warrior to show up after their recent fight (it wasn’t necessary to her, anyway) and she certainly hadn’t expected her to be heavily pregnant if she did. “Lyris, I see you’ve more than recovered,” she says, her voice graveled by all the smoke she’s breathed.
A gentle smile forms then, though it’s a struggle to maintain for very long. As for her own injuries, her shoulder still smarts on the coldest, most desolate days - though the pain is less each time. Her cornflower blue eyes turn to the golden paint stallion next and she bumps him lightly with her good shoulder, ever the physical creature. “Kronk.” She’s glad he decided to join them. He had proven himself a capable, willing fighter on that infamous day. “She was probably seeking me.” She looks back at the Jungle mare for confirmation. “I appreciate you coming here, though I’m no diplomat, if you were hoping to work on two fronts today. I’d be happy to show you around, at least.”
She’s so distracted by her current condition that it takes her longer than it should to recognize the smell of smoke in the air. But when she does, she pauses. Her dark head cocks to the side, curious. She’s pretty sure the Gates isn’t supposed to smell like that …
But she isn’t left to ponder for very long.
Within a few moments of her recognizing the smell, a painted stallion appears and marches straight up to her. The expression on his face is cautious to say the least, and her curiosity is peaked even more. Had something happened here?
His tone is all business, and she’s about to answer when another voice interrupts. Emmerly has finally arrived. “That I have!” The little burn and the bruises hadn’t taken too long to heal. Hadn’t even left any scars unfortunately - she needs more of those. “Yup, just visiting Emmerly - she beat my ass in a fight.” She grins at the stallion. Probably won’t seem like something to grin about to him, but no matter. She’d enjoyed the fight, and Emmerly had won fair and square.
She looks back at Emmerly, still grinning. “Ah, I’m not really here on diplomatic business, but I wouldn’t mind a look around if you’re ok with it. I don’t know much about the Gates to be honest.” She glances briefly at the little of the kingdom that she can see. It seems nice enough, far less muggy and hot than the Jungle, though most places are. “Ah, I do have a message for your King and Queen though. We have a new Khaleesi in the Jungle now. Her name’s Lagertha.” There, what little diplomatic duty she has here is done.
She once again becomes aware of smokey stench filling the air and her grin fades. Her voice takes on a more serious caste. “If you don’t mind me askin’ … did something happen here? Or is your kingdom normally this smokey?”
I've heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord but you don't really care for music do you?
The Chamber had came with the force of a tornado, leaving them with nothing but rubble to pick through. It would be a long, hard journey back to any semblance of normalcy. But vengeance if anything would fuel his desire to see it happen. For now, he had eternity to repair the damage. For now, he had anger at his back. For now, there was a fire in his belly to see some kind of justice served, though at present they were in no position to do so. But he had faith that they would rise above and come out the other side stronger than before. They may not have the fire power or overall strength of the Chamber, but they had something deeper, something that made them better as a whole. They had loyalty to not only their kingdoms, but to one another.
Seeing the Gates in her current state made his stomach clench painfully. He’d known the loss of a mother and a father, but this was more painful than that. It was like losing a child or a long time lover. Everywhere around him was destruction and the remnants of chaos. The scent of smoke burned his nostrils, though he’d painfully become accustomed to it. Today he made his way through the heart of the kingdom, feeling as comfortable in his deer form as he did in his horse form. His eyes were pulled to the remains of their tree, but he made a conscience effort to pull them away. There was nothing new to see there, and only a painful reminder of what he couldn’t stop. Ahead of him a group of horses gathered, and he raised his antlered head slightly, the deer instincts causing him to pause. Two he recognized, one he didn’t. A quick whiff separated her scent from the smoke; humidity, exotic plants, the tang of fruit. Amazon. Thanks to his sensitive hearing, he even caught a name on the breeze. Blowing softly he headed towards them, and finally came to a halt next to the little group. Smiling, he morphed into the gray stallion though he left the antlers atop his head. It wasn’t something he could hold for long, but it was a neat trick nonetheless. “Emmerly, Kronk. Please, come in Lyris. I’m Mast, king of the Gates. Or king of Ruin, as it is in the present.” he said, his tone bitter. She asked what had happened here, and for a moment he longed to spill the truth. But unsure of whether that was a good idea or not, he kept tight lipped. “We had a bit of trouble with a certain fire. But no matter now- what’s been done is done. How do the Amazons fair? Your new Khaleesi, Lagertha?” he asks, offering her a smile as he stepped to the side to allow her entry.
