"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 pain is too much. This place is too much. The fog that still curls around the edges of the silent black lake sweep around her. Her dragon vision fades, she feels her muscles collapse as she falls on her side. The heavy sound of her ragged breath, the thickness of the air pressing back down upon her. Then suddenly nothing, blackness.
She dreams of the stars. She dreams of kingdoms of old, watches rulers rise and fall. Watches lovers fight and reunite, watches the birth of various children, watches them grow up. She dreams of blades of grass and the stories they hold as they slowly grow taller and then wither and die with each season. She watches the foxes teaching their kits to hunt, the hawks showing their young how to fly. Watches the Leshen in it’s secret heart of the forest, the way it’s twisted branches reach out and caress the rough bark of a gigantic oak. So many tales, so many lives. She is a faint gesture in each, the soft breath of the wind that blows through the lovers manes as they entangle with each other. That bends the soft blades of grass, the ripple through the lake that lays behind her. Connected most of all by the twinkling lights in the sky only outshone by the moon that watches over all of them as they sleep.
There’s a soft call of birds in the distance. She barely stirs, a slight twitch of the shoulder muscle. It takes her a second as her sluggish mind slowly awakens. The song of birds in a world so silent? Blearily her lids lift, revealing the swirling silver orbs within. It takes her a few minutes to adjust, the colors are so much brighter. The light burns her retinas and she blinks with pain, it takes her awhile to recover after being so long in the dark.
She lays sprawled on the banks of the lake, the same lake she had defeated the siren in. It’s calm waters lapping gently at her sore body. The world was normal again, she had returned from the cruel alternate underneath of Beqanna. A slow soft exhale escapes velvet lips, the tension fading from her, inhaling the sweet untainted air. Surely this had all just been a very terrible night terror? Yet she is so tired, her body hurts everywhere. The wounds the siren had left etched over her ribcage still bleed freely. The many talon scratches that mark her body simply burn and fester. It had been real. All of it. She knows that something had changed, she had changed. She now knows the forests dark secret, knows the Leshen haunts it even if they can’t see it. Knows where she came from, what she is. Why she is different.
There’s no reason to move, she can’t find the strength anyways. She stays where she is, closing her eyes to the bright sunlight as she feels the cold lake splashing against her backside.
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
He and Tang return from Loess one alliance richer, but there still lingers a sour taste in Amet's mouth. He hadn't been overly pleased with the way they'd been greeted by Merida or Heda, nor the way they had interrogated his painted companion until she answered their questions, but they, too, are a new herd trying to succeed in the world of Beqanna and the dragon King is willing to call them allies, if only for strength in numbers.
Parting ways with Tang, the leather-plated stallion leaves her to the mountain peaks and continues towards the center of his home. Springtime in Hyaline is beautiful, despite the areas to the east that still hold a reminder of the fire, and the billowing wisteria boughs reach for his gilded frame as he meanders beneath them. The lake territory is quiet today, though not suffocatingly so. Birds chirp in the distance and the occasional breeze rustles tree branches, making Amet's ears flutter and twist more out of habit than anything else.
As he nears the crystalline lake, nearly blinding in the springtime sun, his amber eyes fall upon a creature resting at its shoreline. Amet's features twist in confusion and his steps become tentative until he is close enough to see the wounds that leak blood across her smokey black coat. The dragon King yelps, closing the remaining distance in only a few bounds before he falls to his knees beside the mare, the semi-rocky shoreline digging at his joints.
"Are you okay? What happened? Who has done this to you?" he blurts, with hardly a second between each question. His amber eyes rove her wounds, debating whether or not he should run for Djinni to mend the injuries, and then turns his gaze to the treeline to be sure that there is no creature pursuing the fallen mare into the center of Hyaline.
There's a strong scent of honeysuckle and wisteria, it weaves beneath her nostrils. Sickly sweet, her stomach recoils. She realizes she can’t remember the last time she ate our drank anything and yet her appetite escapes her. The soft lapping of the lake against her back is soothing, the side of her pressed into the mud soothed unlike the fiery wounds that are exposed to sky and elements. She could lay here forever, maybe she will. Nothing seems to matter now, no rush to escape or fight. Besides, her worn out body is resistant to even trying to move. Just a little longer she thinks.
A sound makes her tense and she groans as her body protests to the movement. A cry of alarm, her heart begins to pound faster. Panic. She thinks of the siren in the waters behind her and she struggles to roll herself to her feet, fails. It takes her a moment to realize the stallion that’s fallen beside her, concern etched into every line of his face. His questions pummel into her and she visibly flinches. She allows herself a moment of breath, her head sinking back to the mud before the cool swirling silver strands of her eyes are finally able to take him in. ”You should see the other guy.” Her words harsh against her throat, coughing slightly at the effort.
His body glitters, gold and bronze. Scales. There’s nothing about him that seems threatening despite his dragon like appearance. Still she is apprehensive, who would believe her without thinking her crazy? So she bites back her story, instead seeking confirmation that she had truly escaped the Underneath. ”Where am I?”
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
Amet forgets their surroundings as he gazes worriedly at the mare, amber eyes alight and searching. He offers her the entirety of his attention now that he's sure she hasn't been followed into the stronghold of Hyaline, and even the grainy shoreline that presses into his leather-plated knees is lost on the Dragon king. You should see the other guy, the tattered mare quips with a small, hoarse cough. Amet chuckles, his ears fluttering forward and his face relaxing (though not entirely) as his amber eyes connect with her silver ones.
"Is the other guy still alive?" he questions light-heartedly in an effort to keep her from gazing back at her own injuries. They continue to seep blood, and he can see the tendrils of crimson that extend from beneath her smoky black frame and into the moist sand and shallow waters beneath her. His frown returns, marring his handsome gilded face, as she questions where she is. "You're in Hyaline," he offers immediately, "and my name is Amet." The Akhal-Teke shifts in the sand so that his weight is on his hind hip and his forelegs are extended before him, dark hooves digging into the sand as he regards the nameless mare with a mixture of disquiet and amusement (though it's difficult to tell which is most prevalent).
"Do you need me to bring you somewhere to get help? Do you want me to go get help?" He pauses succinctly. "Or, you know, you can stay here until you are better, if you want. Hyaline is safe," he says offhandedly with an apologetic grin for his ramblings, and then finally realizes that she hadn't told him what had happened, or even what to call her.
”For all our sakes I hope not.” She whispers, closing her eyes tightly as if the sun blinded her. In truth, she squints in pain from the awful memories. It was far too raw, too soon, to speak of the trials she had been through. That she had barely survived. Slowly she forces them open again, the swirling silver gazing calmly at the scaled stallion. How long had it been since she had seen a friendly face? In his presence she feels safe, such an awkward feeling after wandering alone for so long.
Hyaline, so her assumptions had been correct. The upside down had spit her right side up. ”Amet…” Her soft whisper as she repeats his name, letting it sink into her brain and focusing on only him to block out the recent nightmares. She sighs softly, his concern growing and she tries to roll upwards but her body resists, muscles to exhausted. Wounds flush with blood and bleed freely due to the movement. Hyaline is safe…. ”If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to stay for awhile.” Her pride keeps her from asking for help but she knows there’s no way she can go anywhere else for awhile. Not in the shape she’s currently in.
A name for her? Silver swirls shine brightly for a moment, so distracted that she has forgotten her manners. ”Oh I’m not that far gone I assure you…” Forcing a faint smile to her lips as she sinks her head back in the mud, wondering what he must think of her. Cursing her weakness. ”I’m Ciri.”
Ciri
You can add her to the board, she's 3 and a warrior so wherever you think she should be <3
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
Battered and quite obviously fatigued, the smokey black mare seems to drift in and out of their conversation. Amet is patient with her the same way he'd been patient with Sakir when the Dragon King's younger brother had followed he and Iset to Beqanna - there is no rush, after all, now that she has found her way into Hyaline. The young stallion has to suppress the pride that swells like a balloon in his muscled chest that she would feel safe remaining in his care after what was, it would seem, an incredibly traumatic experience.
It had been a little less than a year ago that the crystalline lake and its boundaries had been invaded and, admittedly, much less safe. His amber eyes glance away from the mare and to the treeline, just as they usually do whenever memories of the attack flutter jarringly through his mind. Hyaline is safe now, Amet reminds himself. And then his amber eyes are back on her silver ones, his pleasant and caring smile never once quavering.
She whispers his name and the gilded stallion nods in response, a snort of mock affront escaping flared nostrils at her pleasantries. "On second thought..." he quips carefully, before giving her a quiet chuckle, "Of course I don't mind. What kind of animal would I be if I tossed you out in this condition? Stay as long as you'd like. I hope Hyaline comes to feel like home," Amet offers quietly with the intention that revealing a hope of his will make her feel less... exposed.
"Ciri," he says with a smile, as he rests his leather-plated head upon his extended forelegs and she lowers hers against the mud, "It's a pleasure to meet you. Are you sure you don't need me to go find a healer? I'm no professional, but those cuts probably don't feel the best..."
He is patient, far more patient then she would probably be in his place. ”You seem to have done this before, caring for the injured. I didn’t take you for a nurse.” Teasing lightly back before her broken body is ravaged with a side slipping cough, gasping slightly for breath. The metallic tang of blood mingling with salty sweat and lake water. She has no idea of the fate that had fallen Hyaline before her arrival. That there had been afflicted patients before her. In the wake of what she had faced, a firestorm seems like nothing. Outrunning flames seems an easy task compared to the downfall of the siren. "I would not take advantage of your kindness, as soon as I'm feeling better..." Her voice trails off as a spasm of fresh pain overwhelms her. She refuses to be a burden to him, to anyone.
The pain is starting to become overwhelming, throbbing throughout her body. Stinging as if she was covered in nettles. Burning like a thousand suns. He becomes hazy, the swirling silver of her pupils fading slightly. His voice sounds far away as he questions her about a healer, suddenly overcome by fatigue and pain. ”I….” Her throat so dry, finding it hard to form words. ”Whatever you think is best.” She finally manages to get out, eyelids fluttering as she fights against sleep. Wondering if she would ever see his glittery scales again, if this was just another dream.
