"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
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
She remembers that morning when she had first waken up, tucked against her momma. She remembers when the fear and the magic that had seemed to ooze through their home had been gone. She remembers when her father hadn’t come home in days…and then weeks and when she finally realized they were free. She didn’t have the scars that her momma had, so it took some coaxing to get her to leave, lots of love and patience. Then, when they finally had, the world had shifted and turned and changed.
She finally got her wish, to be normal so her father would leave her alone. And it had been so wonderful not to worry about the what-ifs and the possibility that her powers could control her. It had been so wonderful to wander with her momma and take their time learning and living all by their selves.
“Momma look at the butterfly!” And Willa had smile and nodded, a faint faraway smile that made Lyss a little sad and happy at the same time. That smile meant her momma was thinking of old times, but she was smiling. A small sigh slipped from her lips until Willa slipped up to her and hugged her tight. “I was remembering chasing butterflies when I was younger and how your Gran and Grandda would laugh at me and Strange when we did.”
Oh, well that helped make the sad go away. She smiles at her Momma and nuzzles her, letting her settle down in the thick grasses hiding along the edge of the wooded edge. “I’ll be back!” Willa smiles and nods, closing her eyes in the grasses and settling in for a relaxing nap while her grown daughter scampers off.
Lyss was never alone too long so she blames it on going to far that she doesn’t get loss per se, but she gets a little sidetracked. So when the magic returns she almost totally misses it, until that feeling just behind her eyes comes back. She stops, pausing near the edge of the water and sighing sadly. “Oh.” The memories come back with it, the ones that she had been able to keep away without thinking too much about them, the ones that were all associated with her father using her powers for his gain.
”Do it.” His voice hisses in her ear and she takes a breath, swallowing hard as she looks into the mare’s eyes. “Run through the brambles until I say stop.” She says, a small catch in her voice that her father nudges her roughly for. She straightens up, squaring her small shoulders. “Now.” Her voice is stronger and the mare takes a look, blinking at her. Achlyss watches the terror fade from her eyes, watches as they turn blank and biddable before she turns and does as she is told. Her father’s harsh laugh grates on her ears as she turns to look at him. “Don’t let her stop until she can’t walk.” And then he turns and walks away, leaving his daughter with the mare that he has sent to bleed from a thousand small cuts and knicks.
She shakes her head, knowing that that had never been the worst, but there was so many small ones that added up. She steps deeper into the water, letting it wash over her legs until it touches her belly. She closes her eyes when she looks down at the water and takes a long drink. She lingers there, sighing softly, until she looks at her reflection, wondering what might have changed.
But sees nothing different than yesterday.
She doesn’t say anything, knowing how easy it would be to hypnotize herself. So she looks up and around and just lets the water wash around her as she looses herself in her memories, her eyes sad and haunted.
Bound for trouble from the start I've been walking through this old world in the dark
Sometimes his dreams aren’t completely terrorized by living monsters. Sometimes he can faintly remember the brief seconds pressed to his mother’s side, the way she had lovingly nuzzled his neck. It’s always ruined by the mad eyed stallion who had pulled him away from her. Forcing him to watch as he crushed his mother’s skull in, covering the colt with a spray of her blood. He had only been a few minutes old. It was the single defining moment of his life, the moment when he knew his every waking moment would always be like this. Full of sorrow, misery, fear, death.
He had been pawned into the care of the murderer's mother. She had not been much better. Librette had not known how to love her own children, let alone an orphan. What made it worse was that he was not truly orphaned, Libby was in a torrid affair with his biological father. He had known it was his father, a straw to grasp at in the darkness. His mother had made sure to tell him, luckily, before she had met her demise. Unfortunately he could say nothing for the madman had promised he would come back and destroy him if he muttered a single word to Magnus.
Things could have been different if he had been braver as a child.
But he hadn’t. His life was cursed and he deserved it.
He had gone to the Mountain, had sought answers for what had happened to him. It wasn’t that he exactly had asked for the bear to return to him, he wasn’t sure what he had been seeking. Answers he supposes but the questions were beyond him. However when he had left the looming mass of rock and soil, despite the fairies cold silence, his magic had been returned. Restored before the rest of them. No explanation given, nothing. How could he expect anything less?
He roams the common lands, drifting. A gaunt figure, bones jutting out from too stretched chestnut skin. He has no purpose, he cares not if he lives or dies. His face ravaged, the clawed empty socket still a haunting reminder of what he had been through. Only the bear keeps him alive, unable to resist it’s power. Ambling along the bank of the river, he sees her. Water rustling around her hooves, doe eyes sad and haunted. He pauses, his good eye watching her for a moment. A soft sigh as he moves closer for he knows too well the pain that lurks within her. Can see it etched on the lines beneath her eyes. ”Are you alright?” He quietly asks her, not wanting to intrude if he wasn’t wanted. However he figures they may both be better off for company.
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
Her head jerks towards him, her body swaying sideways in the water so she could see the threat that lingered just to the side and behind her. Her heart thuds in her chest as adrenaline surges through her blood, even as she sees that it’s not Him. He was dead. He couldn’t hurt her anymore or make her hurt others. It was the thoughts that lingered, the memories that made her so jumpy. When her mind finally processes the words and then the tone of the voice, she manages a shaky smile.
“I’m sorry,” Her eyes focusing on the point of his shoulder, “You startled me.” She makes her way out of the water, it was cold enough now that she didn’t want to stay in it anymore. Her eyes still don’t quite meet his. “Yes, I’m okay.” But they did travel the line of his body, noting all the ways his bones jutted from his body.
“But are you?” She darts a look up at his face, her mouth opening in a soft gasp before her eyes slide away again. “I’m sorry.” Always sorry. “I haven’t seen scars like yours before.” Her mind already thinking of the ways that he might take offense to her words. She didn’t want the sharp reminders to behave, to only say the good things. She had her own scars, hidden amongst the thick fur of her coat, but they were few. He had died before He could inflict too much damage.
Her hooves shuffling a bit, taking her back a small half step as she nervously tried to think quicker. ”Don’t run.” Momma’s voice in her ear as they both stood, nervously waiting for Him. They didn’t try to hide, that only lead to more pain for Momma. “Running makes Him want to chase.” Momma had said it softly, so softly, that she had barely heard her. And so, with that memory, Lyss stilled, her eyes ducked away from his.
