[private] and in my dreams i've kissed your lips a thousand times // oriash

[Kagerus]

and in my dreams...

i've kissed your lips a thousand times

Raising these children proves to be exhausting. When I sleep, I spend most of my time caring for Iridian who missed me all day long and end up getting close to no actual rest, and when I am awake, Indius begs to go on adventures with me. And I wouldn't trade them for the world. Iri's fantastic dreams and sweet company bring me joy unlike any other and as I watch her strength grow, I find myself reassured that one day she will lay by our sides at night, too. Her more difficult questions bring sobriety but I always focus on the hopefulness of her situation instead of the sorrow. And Indius, well, that little one's energy and excitement knows no containment and often needs little of my input to be flying sky-high.

Thank the gods for Solace, though. How we ever managed triplets is beyond me!

As dawn splits overhead, I slip out of Tephra with a little extra pep to my step. Solace whispered to me this morning that she would take our son on an adventure of her own today and that Iri'd fallen asleep in her little dreamworld, fast and long until later tonight. Semi-well rested for once, I leapt at the opportunity she presented me with to go out and enjoy some alone time. With proper intimacy comes respect for one's need for space, and gods do I love my wife for offering me just that.

Ashen earth gives way to more durable footing as I travel and, soon enough, I find myself cantering with tail and head held high across the well-worn Beqannan routes which lead to the common lands. My thoughts silent themselves as I run, content to listen to the whistle of the wind in my ears and to the pounding of my hooves. The clear ring of my call reaches strangers who travel in the direction I came from and when I happen to receive an answer, a grin stretches my face.

It feels good to be unknown (or at least known but not worth approaching). The life of politics holds no candle to the privacy of living a life for my family alone.

All too soon, I pull up at a curve of the river above which birch trees tremble and shudder. The trees hosted by this portion of the river spread themselves out with a lazy but appreciable haphazardness, two or three bunched here, a wide clearing there. A pleasant burn fills my lungs as I tilt my scarred head up to gaze at the new buds forming on the branches of these alabaster trees; new life, I muse, smiling to remember the two new lives asleep with Solace. A merry shake of my head brings it back to my chest. My tired legs bring me to the river bank and, thirsty, I bring my hind legs to my forelegs and leap down into the river's valley with a couple extra steps to secure my landing. There, the river gurgles around my ankles and I lower my head to drink, the early afternoon sun sending my auburn coat agleam.

kagerus

Enjoying Middle-Age in Tephra | Lover of Solace | Immortal, Dreamweaving Fantasist

@[Oriash]

[Oriash]

↼ORIASH⇁

they promised that dreams come true

She has taken to simply wandering. It had been her intention to return to the Cove, but then Ghaul took over and she’d fled instead. How pathetic, really, that she couldn’t even go see what the stallion was like, what he might do to her home. After that, she’d stopped paying attention to politics, though still, the Cove calls for her. Those black sand beaches would always be her beginning and her end in so many different ways.

Still, Ori has never been good at engaging in her life. Maybe because she has never quite been good at telling the difference between reality and illusion, a thing that has always blurred together for her. Her mothers followed her as a child, and though she has finally rid herself of those ghosts, she has never totally rid herself of the stray illusions. She’s gotten so good at them that she cannot always tell the difference, and sometimes they spring from her unbidden.

This morning though, is full of ghosts.

Well, it is full of only one ghost, but it is enough. The form at the riverbank is a familiar one, one that haunted far too much of Ori’s childhood. She’d pretended her mothers had been there for her, brought them back to life with illusions that were as good as a child’s memory could make them. This version of Kagerus is not quite as Ori had remembered, though, because this one is real.

Ori halts dead in her tracks, not sure her mother has seen her yet. She is far enough away still that perhaps she will go unnoticed, and quickly, Ori paints another horse overtop herself. She becomes something plain and unremarkable; no horns, no wings, no tell-tale leopard spots. She keeps the basics the same, the buckskin and white skin, the blue eyes. The less she has to change, the more believable the illusion will be.

It is like this she approaches the river, though she is not sure why she doesn’t turn tail and run. Curiosity, perhaps. A need for some sort of closure, maybe. She offers a friendly nicker as she approaches, dropping her head for a drink as well before looking back up to her mother. ”Good morning,” she says, having never been good at small talk.

but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too

@[Kagerus]

[Kagerus]

and in my dreams...

i've kissed your lips a thousand times

It is to my further maternal disgrace that I do not spot, smell, or hear my second-youngest daughter as she stumbles upon my drinking figure, here at the river. What I would do to reconcile my wrongdoings with her knows no end (at least it feels that way) but I've been lax in my efforts to demonstrate that -- further damage to my already-shoddy relationship with sweet Oriash. What time we spent together during her early months (weeks, really) would never account for the remainder of her childhood which Solace and I (I in particular) missed.

One would think that when history sought to repeat itself that its subjects would act in such a way as to prevent a duplicate travesty. I know, somewhere deep and uncomfortable to turn to in the privacy of my own mind but which I force myself to bear witness to when I can, that Oriash joined Abysm in the mother-wound club many years ago.

If ever I discovered the true identity of the mare who approaches me now at the river's edge, I would find some humour in the fact that we meet one another in a dressed-down state. No antlers. No magic (or rather, an apparent lack thereof). Where she hides her leopard spots, however, mine gleam in the sunlight.

Her nicker causes my head to bob up, water dripping from my chin with an inelegant but honest drip, drip, drip. I offer a return call, the tones warbling with warmth, and settle to watch as the mare stoops for a quick draught of the river's current. Good morning, she offers, neither here nor there in the way of friendliness, though her countenance betrays no hostility to be sure.

"And a good morning to you as well," I reply, a soft and genuine smile colouring my expression. Tentative, I reach to exchange breath with the mare in the old way and straighten soon thereafter. An unnameable and creeping tension arises in my spine and in the back of my mind; I feel my intuition roll around like weight through my subconscious. I neglect to pay it mind. 

"My name is Kagerus, what is yours?" My head tilts and a compliment comes unbidden to my tongue. "Your coat is beautiful, by the way."

kagerus

Enjoying Middle-Age in Tephra | Lover of Solace | Immortal, Dreamweaving Fantasist

@[Oriash]

[Oriash]

↼ORIASH⇁

they promised that dreams come true

For so long she imagined what life might have been like, had they stayed. Sometimes she fooled even herself with her illusions of them, her mothers beside her as she walked through the Cove and then Loess. They were so real, as many of her illusions are, though Ori could always tell the difference, at least where her mothers were concerned. Though they looked real, they never quite felt real.

She can see the difference now too, the slight imperfections that make the Kagerus that stands before her more than just a figment conjured from a lost child’s mind. Scars from living, slight asymmetries in her features. Not bad imperfections, but rather the imperfections that make life so beautiful and so hard to recreate completely. Ori can get close, and for those not looking, it would fool them. But even the greatest illusionist cannot quite recreate life.

Ori is quick in her movement to exchange breath with the mare, the gesture common, but not something Ori is prone to doing. Particularly not with her mother, who might very well smell the familiarity (though it has been so long that is unlikely), but Ori has always been quiet and reserved. Who might she have become, had life turned out differently.

Then a name, asking for her own. For a moment, she debates lying, but instead she gives the truth. ”Ori,” she says, wondering if that would be the clue her mother needs or not. She has not been Oriash for a very long time. In fact, she doesn't know who Oriash even was, or is. That girl has long since been buried. ”Thank you,” she adds, not sure what else to do with the compliment, because in the end, it is not truly her coat.

but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too

@[Kagerus]

[Kagerus]

and in my dreams...

i've kissed your lips a thousand times

For as long as the mare opposite me remains silent, all seems well. The tension in the length of my spine passes itself off as stiffness from sleeping wrong, the twist in my gut something related to another worry. Today would be a simple, easy day, I decided as the painted woman stepped back from our quick greeting, wherein I'd caught a quick scent of someone familiar but long gone. As though this person had once been in contact with someone I loved.

Ori, she says.

Ori

Ori

Ori

Everything clicks.

"Oriash," I whisper, just as the other mare thanks me for my prior compliment. My pleasant expression drops like dew from the leaf, replaced by a wide-eyed and somewhat horrified shock; I wrestle with the emotion, attempt to bring it to heel. When I fail to do that (something about having unpracticed discipline over such things since my fall from politics and my embracing of intimate family life), I take a step back with a respectful and, it is hoped, chastened drop of my head. I do this despite wanting with all that I am to rush forward and embrace my daughter.

"Oriash," I try again, words rasping with emotion. "My daughter..." Hard swallow. "I would so like to embrace you against my chest as I once had the privilege of doing, before I left." My ego begs me to sugarcoat my abandonment of the sweet child (the perfect mixture of Solace and I), aches to be so plain about what happened. But I must try -- I must try to learn from what happened with Abysm.

"But I respect your need for space, or time, or whatever you need right now." The river sounds too loud. As much as my shame bids me drop my gaze, I force myself to look into Oriash's beautiful blue eyes. I can't know whether she hoped for me to recognize her when she gave me her shortened name; all I know is I could not hide my recognition from her. "And if you have any questions, about then or now or the future... please, I am at your service."

kagerus

Enjoying Middle-Age in Tephra | Lover of Solace | Immortal, Dreamweaving Fantasist

@[Oriash]

[Oriash]

↼ORIASH⇁

they promised that dreams come true

Maybe she’d quietly hoped her mother would figure it out, a hope so deep seated she cannot be sure if it is real or not. It’s the sort of hope you do not dare to hope at all for fear of being crushed beneath the weight of it should it not come true.

Yet then there is her name - her full name - on her mother’s lips. And it’s such a different meeting than the one with Solace, where they’d crashed together, all thoughts of anger lost at the sight of her mother come rushing to find her. Delirious and still unwell, Solace had found her. Kagerus had done no such thing.

Still, Oriash finds that the years worth of anger melt away with the sound of her name on her mother’s lips. It does not matter. What good does it do to be angry? All she wanted was her family, some semblance of a life. It was long lost to her, really, but in this moment some glimmer of it stands before her and how can she scorn it?

The illusion disappears as Kagerus talks, revealing blue leopard spots and large, proud antlers. This is Oriash, fully and completely. Ori doesn’t move away or forward, but looks at her mother with something like sadness and hope all mingled together. As her mother mentions questions, Ori finally speaks. ”Why didn’t you come to find me?”

but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too

@[Kagerus] <3

[Kagerus]

and in my dreams...

i've kissed your lips a thousand times

"I tried -- and I failed." My chest aches as though I attack myself by speaking these honest words. Though I have nothing to gain by protecting my honour and my ego, those two self-same fixtures yet balk at my attempt at honesty. At vulnerability. At admitting my wrongdoings without rushing to justify them moments later. "I have no excuse, Oriash. Whatever explanation I have is not a justification for how I hurt you."

The silence hums.

"I can only hope that I can prove myself to you by way of my future actions, now. And that by those actions I can earn your trust and forgiveness."

My head lifts an inch, bolstered by the way she hadn't turn to run, hadn't rejected my outright, had taken the chance of revealing her identity (memories of Abysm rejecting me at every turn except to finally offer a stony tolerance plague me as I stand here, devoted to respecting the second child I'd failed as a mother). And when she reveals herself in her full grandeur, taking the shape and color of an aged version of the girl I so loved and cherished all those years ago, tears find their way to my eyes and cheeks. Her antlers grow taller and prouder even than my own had when I wore them; I feel humbled to be allowed in her presence. I smile through my tears, the expression warm and hopeful.

"You are as beautiful as I remember you," I allow, taking the chance of familiarity with she whom I have so hurt. "More. It feels like a dream to see you here and now." The smile I wear turns bittersweet, resembling very much the mixture of sadness and hope strewn across the face of the one opposite me. "And there's so much I wish I could have shared with you. I am so sorry that I failed to provide that for you then."

"I know it's -- soon -- but I wanted to tell you. Many members of your family -- our family -- reside in Tephra, now. Aunts, uncles, grandparents." I swallow. "New siblings. If you would ever want, I promise that we would be there to welcome you. For now though, just to see you and know you again is more than I could ever have hoped for."

kagerus

Enjoying Middle-Age in Tephra | Lover of Solace | Immortal, Dreamweaving Fantasist

@[Oriash]
sentimental kag is sentimental.

[Oriash]

↼ORIASH⇁

they promised that dreams come true

She wants to be mad. No, not wants - expected to be mad. She expected to scream and shout her fury, expected words to tumble out of her mouth about how she had never been hard to find. Solace had found her, still barely functional, so how is it Kagerus had been unable? Yet as her mother says she has no excuse, whatever anger there might have been fades away. Because in the end, she doesn't want to be angry. She has never wanted to be angry.

No, all Ori ever wanted was her family. That opportunity stands before her now, if she can leave the hurt behind her.

Even grown, she looks so much like her parents, the perfect mix of the two of them. Despite their absence in her life - or perhaps because of it - she has been shaped by them. Shaped by their legacy, which left her as “the daughter of Kagerus and Solace” for so long. It is because of them she was stolen to Loess and, in some small way, raised by Castile. Yet despite that, she is still her mothers’ daughter. Perhaps she was always destined to be.

Ori doesn’t fill the silence. She has never been the kind of girl to fill the silence, but she lets her mother go on for a while until the mention of Tephra, and much of her family, sits in the air between them. Beside her, Ori’s childhood memory of Kagerus and Solace materializes, a better explanation than Ori can ever really manage herself. ”Your ghosts have followed me. For a time, they were my companions, fake though they were. Eventually they were my torment, the thing that haunted me.” The words, though true, are not harsh. She simply needs her mother to understand.

“I cannot simply forget what we have lost, but I would like to try to gain something now. I would like to come to Tephra, at least to visit.” She doesn’t know where she belongs, has never known it, but to find her family would be a start.

but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too

@[Kagerus]

[Kagerus]

and in my dreams...

i've kissed your lips a thousand times

As I stand, honouring my daughter's need for silence, closure, and self expression in the face of one who abandoned that same self, Oriash's composure seems to soften. Not with great evidence, nor with a proclamation of forgiveness or joy; moreso in the way the muscles of her withers relax from their bound-up positions and in the way the shade of her eyes brightens despite the day's overcast light. I take solace in witnessing this shift, no matter how small, and when Oriash deigns to speak again, I listen with rapt attention.

Your ghosts have followed me. For a time, they were my companions, fake though they were. Eventually they were my torment, the thing that haunted me.

She speaks the words with a kindness, as though she knows that this information would hurt me enough (and it does, though I let that show only with a nod of quiet acknowledgment; today is about her truths, not about the shame, guilt, and pity I feel deep within myself). I imagine being a young girl and losing my father, only to have him resurface incessantly and intangibly, trailing me at first to reassure me and at last to torment me. I shudder to think of it.

I cannot simply forget what we have lost, but I would like to try to gain something now. I would like to come to Tephra, at least to visit.

With that, a rush of air exits my lungs, one that I'd held without intending to throughout the entirety of this conversation. With tenderness, I step forward to press my lips to my daughter's antlered forehead, breathing a tangible warmth there for more than a heartbeat before pulling away, allowing that warmth to waft across her whole body.

"Thank you. Thank you for bringing me more joy than I ever thought possible." I smile, stepping back further. "Your mother and I, and all the rest of your family, will be waiting to welcome you there whenever you see fit." With that, I travel to a nearby glade, mentioning as I go that if she'd like to join me there to graze and perhaps chat into the sunset, that she is more than welcome to do so.

kagerus

Enjoying Middle-Age in Tephra | Lover of Solace | Immortal, Dreamweaving Fantasist

@[Oriash]