"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
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there... dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before... Loving with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe
It’s been weeks since they found themselves locked together in that cave, on that stormy night. Sheltered in their little world with nothing to bring reality back into check. It feels like a dream, a pleasant one, with all those surreal, and fanciful feelings can stay tucked away secretly keeping the soul nourished in its ever-annoying need of contact. Normally the residents can find her on the cliffs edge, or at the ocean’s edge, today she is making her way inland, towards the border of Hyaline. It’s time she starts forming the alliances they so desperately need. It’s still summer, and easy travel for her to bring along some of the aspiring diplomats. She’s requested Volcan to accompany her to Loess, and she thinks maybe the young male that had been present at the meeting would be good for Hyaline. She’s thinking of sending Djinni to another, and still she wonders if this is making any difference for the kingdom what-so-ever. There are days that she strongly believes that she is doing something good for it. Then there are others that the doubt is overwhelming.
Today is an in-between day. Where she thinks she could be making a difference just wondering if its enough of a difference? Is it ever enough though? Kingdoms need constant maintenance, they are babies still suckling for their nourishment. They never grow into adulthood in that way. They can never be independent, and the only way to ensure a kingdoms future is to leave it to hands more capable then yourself. This seems impossible as you can never know a person’s capability till they are already doing the job, and then it’s to late to take back what was already decided. It’s a lose-lose situation. Either you find someone more capable and wish you had done better, or you find someone less capable and find yourself lacking in that you couldn’t recognize who you were leaving the land to.
She stops by a stream to drink long gulps of refreshing liquid. It’s crystal clear, and the growth on the banks show the richness of the soil. While the salty grasses on the cliff might taste better than over here, the water is much more pleasant away from the coast and the salty winds. Under the shade of the mountains the stream sneaks it’s way around them without ever being noticed. Hestia finds that her conscience isn’t so heavy now. Not constantly weighted by the past. Part of her wonders what exactly had been done to her? She had always saw herself as thriving when a spy, never had she wanted a high rank. In way she had been terrified of it and avoided it like the plague. Now she has the highest of all of them. Tethered to this home forever. Never again would she be able to wander and change homes at a whim. This is it. This is her last stop, and it may not have been her choice, but it has grown on her. Enough that she is actually glad that she is queen now, possibly even thriving in this position. She is always busy, always has someplace else to be. There isn’t much time for lonely thought, or long boring days in the sun. The old hag is constantly driven to find goals, to fix things, and here she can do that. This coast has so much that needs fixing, so much that needs doing. At least Hestia is never bored.
02-20-2018, 02:32 PM (This post was last modified: 02-20-2018, 02:32 PM by Walter.)
He thinks about their time together long after they step out of the cave.
And like the storm had passed and evaporated into the scorching summer air, so too did his worries for the land he has come to treasure. Because it has been quiet for so long, too long. And the woman who now helms the ship is more capable than he ever could have imagined. He finds himself wanting to contribute for the first time in his entire life. It is a strange, new feeling that blossoms like algae in his chest, this desire to make the most of Nerine, to make it better. He has been a leech for most of his existence – not from ill-will, but from not knowing any better. He has lived inside of his head and made it more of a home than any physical place. But he can tell that things will be different now. All because of his trust in Hestia.
In their hidden sanctuary, the black lady was vulnerable. She had let her walls wash away in a downpour that was mirrored in the sky itself. There is something to be said for the magic of chaos, of storms that rage and bring strangers together to become more. Walter hadn’t known how much he needed that moment. He hadn’t realized how it could feel to be the receiver, rather than the giver. But he had taken her memories and anxieties both, cleansing her of their weighted power. In some small way, he had shared her burden. And it had felt wonderful.
The pegasus carries that extra weight around his neck now as he flies the briny skies of the kingdom, though it does not pull him down. It is a reminder, an inspiration to keep at it even when it goes against his rather apathetic nature. He owes it to Nerine as much as he does Hestia. The wave-whipped shores of this new land have made him into the man he is today. He doesn’t want to go back to the brooding, haughty person he’d been before he waited for Djinni. Because that guy wouldn’t have been able to touch her when she’d returned. He wouldn’t have been able to dig his heels into the course sand and plant his ass in one place long enough to see her come back to him.
He hardly remembers himself Before.
Walter spots the queen near the edge of the kingdom and angles his wings down to land. The gold stallion makes his way over to the stream that she’s poised above, whickering softly as he nears her. “Lovely morning, your Majesty.” His head drops in a low, dramatic bow. When he rights himself to face her, there’s a sardonic grin reaching his eyes. It is clear from it that it is a one-time greeting he’ll never use again. Even if he respects the hell out of her. “How are you?” He steps forward and drags his muzzle through the cold, crisp water, playing on the surface before taking a few drinks of it. When he’s done, he lifts his head and assesses the other. He smiles widely, and the water he’d been holding in his mouth spills out all at once.
Could there have been anything in her life that was so… she doesn’t know the words for that night, doesn’t really want to. If there was to be a definition for what had happened, then it would take away from what it really was. She lets it be, a secret memory tucked in a warm-fuzzy spot. Fondly cherished as one of the few things that can forever remain unharmed. She hears his soft landing and looks up just in time for his epic tease. Indignant that he would lower himself before her. The fire wings spread out, her neck rises high, and her flaming body sending a surge of heat outwards. Don’t you ev… before she can continue though he looks up with a coy grin, and she settles, smothering the flames and folding her wings back by her sides. She refuses to look at him, her figurative feathers still a little ruffled from him succeeding in his tease. Her indignant self needs to primp and shift positions her tail flicking as if irritated. However, she’s got to try to hide the grin that is more than a slight twitch because how terrible would it be if he saw that!
They’d shared to much for any type of those formalities to exist between them, and if he ever tried to take on a more formal attitude with her, it would hurt more than she’d like to admit. She’d like to think that she had helped him just as much as he’d helped her. When he asks as to how she is, she answers lightly, Busy enough that I don’t know what day it is, she observes him taking a drink. When he eyeballs her, her face screws up confused as to what could possibly be so entertaining as to cause him to pause. Then he pulls the antic and she can’t help the snort/laughter and mouth splitting grin. Once more he’s caught her off guard. So few pull jokes around the grumpy hag that she finds it doubly pleasurable. What about you? She waits a moment before dipping the flaming wing into the stream and flicking water up at him. Her head turned as if she isn’t paying attention, it may be small, but it’s as much of a joke as her dainty uptight manners will allow. Actually, its more than they allow, but he’s got her in a good mood, and she finds herself playing along in spite of the her withdrawn nature.
She’s going to need to ask him about her wings at some point. As she’s going to need to know how to use them. While she prefers to be on the ground, they could come in handy on the battlefield. The war between her prim polite self, and the little girl that thinks it would be fun to be up in the sky has her keeping her mouth shut. Besides, she’s to old to be learning! How silly would it look? Her! falling on her face in doing a cow-hop??? Gawd she doesn’t even gallop around others. Its just so unbecoming. Then again, it could make traveling faster… easier. Maybe she could get a lot more done if she tried? She knows Walter could help her with this problem and is more inclined to ask him for the help. What if someone sees though?! Their queen not knowing how to use her wings?! She’d rather eat in front of someone. In fact she doesn’t realize that she is doing just that right now. Jerking in surprise at herself, her eyes widen and her ears perk forward, she steals a glance his way, waiting for the judging look, she kinda hopes wont be there.
HESTIA
The devil whispered in my ear, “you’ll never survive the storm” I whispered back, “I am the storm”
The water dribbles innocently down his whiskers to wet the ground at his feet. In the next moment, inexplicable warmth bowls over him like a Nerinian wave. His charming grin evaporates into outright surprise. Because fiery wings unfurl from the dark woman he’d just been playing with, wings he’d known nothing about. She’s literally on fire, too, hot flames that lick at her skin and set her aglow. She’s the picture of a minion from Hell. It’s an incredibly becoming look on her (and one he wonders if Djinni can mimic for him later on; hey, he’s only a man). Fitting in a way that he’s always suspected but never seen, as their time in the cave had been meant for softness and sharing, not strength and scope. Still, for someone who is rarely shocked, Walter fully embraces the feeling now.
“Impressive,” he says, and it is sincere even if it doesn’t sound that way. He’s never been adept at tone. “Though I’d mind the water if I were you. We don’t need our queen extinguished.” That would certainly not be ideal. Not when Beqanna as a whole is so quiet; a tranquil Beqanna has always been like the calm before a storm. That troubling thought is quick on his mind now, though, because Hestia laughs at his stupid joke and they are right back where they started. Quick friends and easy confidants.
She says she hardly knows what day it is, and he nods in sympathy. He thinks he’d be a lousy king; little sleep does nothing for his complexion. He’s not sure how she manages to look so rosy – oh, maybe the fire. Speaking of which, “what did you have to do to become so pyrotechnically gifted all of a sudden?” Maybe a quest? The palomino has heard that the Mountain has been more active and loose with its magic lately, but he’s never had a desire to become more than what he is already. He’s not sure the world could handle it. He’s also heard how dangerous some of the quests can be, how tragic. But Hestia looks better than ever, younger, too, if his imagination isn’t running away with him.
The black mare unfurls those shiny new appendages again, flicking him with water from the stream with one. “Hey!” Another grin as he dramatically pulls his head away from most of the splash. She inquires after his own state while he is recovering. “Fantastic. Like a load has been lifted from me.” His honey eyes soften then as he meets her gaze with some amount of dignity. She’ll know what he means and the extent to which he means it. The Reckoning had rended him into a million pieces and melted those pieces down. Nerine had molded him back up after, made him different and better. Their time protected from the deluge had been the final affirmation of all he had changed about himself.
He doesn’t even want to look back now, only forward.
There is so much to do and he wants to help for the first time in his life. Bring it on, bring it all on! Walter shifts his own wings as he looks at Hestia’s. “Want to try those things out? I can’t say I’ve ever taught anyone how to fly, but there’s a first time for everything, right?” He tilts his head to scour the land around them, looking for a good vantage point (preferably far away from water for now). He waits for her answer before taking off towards the hill. Here goes nothing, carpe diem and all that jazz.
If only she could hear that thought. She’d not know if to laugh, or to be disgusted. Or roll her eyes as she is not completely innocent of the inner workings of a male’s mind. What she does do is chuckle at his joke about her flames. He doesn’t know, and she only knows a small fraction of the trouble she is about to cause in the land. But it’s a good thing. It will bolster Nerine should it all work out. If it doesn’t… Well her mind is quickly distracted, and they trade quips until he once again presses further than she is normally comfortable in sharing.
For a moment she doesn’t respond. A thing came to me from the ocean, I don’t know what it was. But she gave me time to speak to Fennick. her voice deadens, unable to process any emotion about what had happened between the two on that night. Rushing through that piece of information. Not giving any of the details. Except for one, and it’s shown with the next words out of her mouth. He abandoned my children. she refuses to call them his now. They are not his any longer. Not if he chose to leave them. Her gaze returns to Walter. A smile dripping with sarcasm on her lips. Apparently I’ve suffered enough pain to warrant what you’ve seen along with the restoration of my immortality. Oh the irony. She does a fanciful bow one wing crossing over her chest and the other outstretched doing a spiral to further push across her sarcasm. She’d not gone up the mountain in search of a quest. Always having been content with who she is. Instead the quester came to her, and she’d not even known it. She’d heard of the quests and shuddered at the idea of going to one. Yet she participated without even knowing she’d done so.
They change topics once more and she quirks a smile at his reply. She shifts nervously, hesitating to respond right away. Her green eyes flicking between him and her wings. Well… she squints a little drilling him with a hard look. Don’t you ever speak of us doing this to anyone. She can’t believe that she is even considering this, but she is. Hestia takes off after him, cantering as elegantly as she can manage. Watching for anyone that may spot the two. Could things get any more embarrassing?
No don’t answer that, she doesn’t want to know. He picks a spot and she slows when reaching his side. Her wings clamped tightly to her sides as her tail is to her rump. What have I gotten myself into, she murmurs the words nervously shifting at his side. Unsure if she can follow through on this idea. If it was possible her skin would be ashy right now. Sick with fear. Out of everything she’s experienced. Out of all that she has done. Why’d it have to be flying? She doesn’t even realize that she’s spoken out loud. Her muscles trembling with the nerves. Has she mentioned that she’s got a fear of heights? It’s different when on the cliff, there is a whole sprawling land behind her. On the path there is a side blocked off from the cliff wall. Something about something solid on at least one side of her makes heights okay. But this kind of height? Her lips thin and eyes flick to look at him. What the fuck was she thinking?
HESTIA
The devil whispered in my ear, you’ll never survive the storm I whispered back, I am the storm
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