"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
There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye.
The air is sharp and cool this high in the clouds, whisking away heat and moisture as if it had never been. Autumn had come, bringing with it the crisp, clean scent of the season. She had missed that scent, living so deep in the Amazon jungle as she had been. There the air is always thick and humid, redolent with the scents of flora and fauna. She has grown to love her home, would protect it with her very last breath if need be, but there are certain things she does miss from the outside world.
Her family, for one. She feels like it has been ages since she had last laid eyes on them. Well, perhaps not ages, but certainly too long. Her mission has a purpose, but this is as much a social call as it is a diplomatic visit. Besides, she is not a diplomat. Lagertha had sent her because of her ties to the place. So, really, what else could she expect?
She lingers in the sky longer than she should have before she makes her way down, golden eyes searching the ground below her. When she finally finds what she is searching for, she lands on the ground with a thump next the black mare assigned to accompany her on this trip.
The trip is not a long one. The Dale and Amazons are neighbors, so making their way to her birth home is relatively easy. In short order, they have arrived. The landscape is familiar here, the hills and valleys of this kingdom having been her stomping ground for so much of her youth. It chafes at her that she cannot simply go find Ramiel. She had once known nearly every one of his favorite places, might have easily been able to find them. But in this moment, she is constrained by convention and diplomacy, forced to wait for them to come to her.
But she knows they will come soon enough. She has no doubt that their presence has not gone unnoticed.
Joscelin
Tiphon x Elysteria
html c insane | picture c mikanicole.deviantart.com
Sometimes he tries to picture how everything would be if fate had taken him down a different path. If his idyllic childhood had been left untouched by Carnage’s sculpting hands, would he have come home with all the resolve of a quester left too-long on the road? If his sister hadn’t been neatly packed and shipped off to the Jungle to secure their alliance, would he still yearn for her company, as he does now? If his parents hadn’t drifted apart, dispersed by the shallow waters of shared love outside of each other, would he still find himself bitterly mocking the idea of forever (but secretly admiring and wanting it all the same)?
He tries not to think too hard or too long on the what-ifs and what-might-have-beens, but sometimes he can’t help himself.
Mostly, he wonders what his life would be like if the crown had never been placed on his poll. Its weight is a continuous, heavy reminder that, because of its presence, his life is mostly not his own. Is he truly living if it is not for himself? Is he a ghost (in more ways than one) by elevating the worth of a land and its people far above his own? By all rights, he should be a stallion in the prime of his life at nine years old. He should have taken a mate by now, should have already fathered sons and daughters to carry on the strong Dalean blood coursing through his veins. He should have a family outside of the one he’s created here.
And yet, he doesn’t.
Ramiel has never cared for propriety or social conformity; he has always considered himself outside of the realm of normal, anyway. But sometimes, when loneliness starts to creep upon him like fog, silent and dense, he wonders.
Today, as he walks in the cool bright of morning, the blanketing fog lifts from his soul. The Dale is spread out before him in its usual wash of splendor: greens, blues, and the pale purples of the mountains. He knows that trouble is stirring beyond the granite façade of their borders, knows that now is the time to prepare for it to spill over and affect them. Arrangements have been slow-going, but that fact, too, needs to change. He is about to begin looking for Elysteria and Weir to begin their preparations when the pungent smell of the Jungle reaches his nostrils. Immediately, the grey stallion moves towards the source of the scent. It has been over three years since the Sisterhood appeared in great number at the edge of the Dale. Three years then, too, since he’d reunited with his own sister. A burgeoning happiness fills his chest when he spots the pair lingering near the tree line. Joscelin and a dark mare he hadn’t met on the previous rendezvous stand waiting. For him, he supposes, though the idea of dignitaries anticipating his approach is one he will never fully become used to.
“Joscelin!” His voice is warm and lacking any hint of the somberness that had filled him before as he moves closer to the duo. He stops himself from embracing his cracked-skin sister – not wanting to potentially embarrass her in front of her fellow Amazon - and settles for a firm nudge of his muzzle against her neck instead. When he steps back, a conspiratorial smile twitches his lips before he turns his attention to the other woman. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’m Ramiel, welcome to the Dale.” A quip lingers on his tongue, not forgotten despite the niceties he had to first exchange. “My sister didn’t turn the path from the Jungle to here into a racing track, did she? She’s terribly competitive. I understand if you need to take a breather before getting down to business.”
His smirk quiets into an even smile as he turns back to his lit-from-within sibling. As glad as he is to see her, there truly is business they cannot overlook. He knows the Sisterhood is likely further entrenched in the animosity digging into all of the kingdoms than the Dale itself is. He knows, too, that they are probably here seeking whatever aid they can garner from their allies. What the ghost-king doesn’t know is which side they have taken – that of the Chamber or that of its opposition. Ramiel takes a steadying breath. He has a preference, of course. He only hopes it is in line with the Amazons. If they are headed for war, the Dale will need reason and justification to join in; he will not put the lives of his family in danger for free. “I realize this is not merely a social call.” His smile remains in place but his golden eyes are somber as they flit between the two women in turn. Rather than assume anything (even if he knows their answer) he lets the mares fill the silence and confirm his suspicions.
