Gave you a minute when you needed an hour // Any

[Sabra]

Sabra

And I'm here. After days, maybe a couple weeks of grazing and wandering and trying to get my bearings back, I let the promise of shelter draw me in. I can be seen again. I'm still unhealthy kinds of skinny, but time on thick summer grass has brought me from skeletal to merely thin. I've learned how to eat without embarrassing myself, to move without dragging at the staff in my chest and stealing my breath. 

He didn't follow me here, and while I half expect to find him among the rocky landscape I can't find surprise when only a blank horizon greets me. I glimmer in the bright daylight, hesitating where the land begins to smell of others. My nostrils flare uncertainly, but I know I can go no further without greeting. 

I graze to pass the time. My ears flick erratically, taking in every sound, ever nuance, until I know I've been found. My heart throbs a painful rhythm against the wood splintering inside it, anxiety as physical as it is chemical. I wish I could stop myself from fidgeting, but my wings dance and my hooves step without thinking until I force them to stop.

I wanna be Immortal, like a God in the sky


I wanna be a silk flower, like I'm never gonna die

Photo by Kareva Margarita

[Lepis]

i feel
a bad moon rising

Lepis prides herself on having seen a great many things, but a mare walking around with a spear through her chest is certainly something new. The mare herself is a stranger, with lovely coloration that somehow makes the protrusion all the more disturbing. She looks disturbed as well, though Lepis is not sure if that is a result of the spear or where she stands: just at the border of the land. The stranger appears to know this is the edge of Loess, and Lepis brushes past a stand of monstera and prickly pear to better face the unfamiliar pegasus.

"Hello," she says hesitantly, her blue-grey eyes flicking down to the spear and back up again. There are protocols for greeting a stranger at the border, but none of them included anything quite like this, and Lepis is left feeling rather out of her depth. It is not a comfortable feeling.

"Is that…" she begins, but then trails off. "Are you…" Again, another glance down at the spear. Then she gives a small shake of her head, supresses the concern, and starts for the third and final time. "Welcome to Loess. Can I help you?"

@[Sabra]

n | l

[Sabra]

Sabra

When I am found, it is by a little blue pegasus mare. She emerged from incongruous plant life, eyes already wide. What began as nerves settle into annoyance as her eyes flick continuously between the spear in my chest and my face. Lips thinning, I allow the woman to approach, knowing that while I have made myself adjust, adapt, I will be the freak long from now as long as I encounter strangers. The whispers that haunt me will echo on the tongues of others, and I will simply have to get used to it. 

Still, I cannot stop my eyes from rolling when she stumbles over her greeting. I have never been blessed with patience, a fact that harms far more often than it helps. That remains true even now as I stand here, every intention of repeating my need for asylum freezing with her open shock. 

A look too hard to be called a smile stretches my lips, but give me a break, I tried. "Let's get this out of the way, shall we? My name is Sabra. Yes, there is a long piece of wood in my chest. Yes, it hurts. No, it can't be removed. I can't say I'm particularly well, but that's why I'm on what I can only assume is your doorstep. Castile said I can stay here while I recover." I let the name drop fall without hesitation, pausing only to catch my breath. "I do hope that's a promise that will be honored, though I can't say I'll be surprised if it's not. His oath is a slippery thing." 

(Beggar at the door)

My eyes dash aside, trying to track the voice that's vanished as soon as it's spoken. I know this, but I look for it anyway. Nostrils flaring aggressively, I turn back to the shaggy mare. What she says next will decide my next little segment of fate, and I can't afford to screw up, if I haven't already done so.

I wanna be Immortal, like a God in the sky


I wanna be a silk flower, like I'm never gonna die

Photo by Kareva Margarita


@[Lepis]

[Lepis]

i feel
a bad moon rising

Were it not for the spear, Lepis likely would have been offended. (The rudeness of her own awkward greeting having been immediately forgotten, of course).

But she knows what it is like to be injured, to be broken in a way not easily healed, and it tempers the hot retort that rises to her tongue. Though her own wing has long since healed, there are still winter mornings when the myriad old fractures ache in the cold.

Instead, she narrows her cool grey eyes only slightly, ears flicked forward as the other begins to speak. Lepis does not react to the name the other gives, but she knows it. Sabra. Yes, the dun thinks, the woman does seem the type of woman her uncle is drawn to. Strong-willed, direct, and certainly easy on the eyes. Well, she amends, perhaps she would be without the spear through the chest.

His oath is a slippery thing, Sabra adds, and for the first time since the narrowing of her eyes, Lepis visibly reacts. It’s subtle, a raise of her striped brow, one that just might be indicative of agreement. She would not call him an oathbreaker, but there is no denying that recent events have weakened her faith in the dragon. They’ve also added complexity to the promise that Sabra claims Castile has made to her.

"Castile is not here," Lepis tells the pale mare, "But I will keep his promise to you. You are welcome to recover here." It does not occur to her to deny the woman a place here, for all that Lepis is uncertain that recovery is even possible. The way the mare moves around the spear speaks of magic. Surely she should not being moving if it were a mundane injury, one with natural causes? The way Sabra glances away, as though at some invisible spook, suggests the same, and Lepis nearly frowns.

And then she does frown, but it is thoughtful rather than concerned. "I can’t heal you," she tells Sabra. "but I might be able to do…something. If you would let me?"

She’d achieved victory in the world that the magician had made, mostly through liberal use of her own arcane talents. She’d not used them with empathy in mind, though. Perhaps this time, in the real world, doing so will grant her a more permanent victory.

@[Sabra]

n | l

[Sabra]

Sabra

I watch the rankled emotions play across the dun mare's face, her no doubt decorous nature rallying at my blunt tongue. No, I can't blame her though. It may have been some years since of needed it, but I recognize the diplomats' mannerisms. The careful speech and guarded expression. Very well, let her have her genteel ways. I can relearn my old ways again. 

Her face betrays little but irritation as I press on with the conversation until the dragon is mentioned. Recognition, a little bit of surprise, and I know I'm more right than I wanted to be. Lepis, Lepis... Perhaps I ought to be familiar with her, in name at least. But the connection evades me. It, as with most things, is worn with time and trauma. 

A brisk nod is my only response to her notation that the beast in question is no longer here. He'd seemed hesitant about the connection when we spoke, and it seems I've missed some crucial events since my last walk on earth. "No matter. I will thank you instead for the lodging. Trust I will not intrude any longer than I must on your hospitality." I mean only to stay long enough to recover my strength and my abilities, to formulate some kind of plan for the next steps in my life. It's a tall order, but to have some kind of security in where I'm sleeping every night will go a long way towards that goal. 

My relief is cut short however, when she comes more directly to the point of her concern. The spear waggling gentle in the muscle of my chest. Ears tipping backward, I take a mistrustful step back. "I would know what you would do." The words are sharp on my tongue, wary of what I do not see. Help harms, and while I might accept a place to sleep, there is only so far I will allow a stranger to go. Only so far I will allow anyone to go.

I wanna be Immortal, like a God in the sky


I wanna be a silk flower, like I'm never gonna die

Photo by Kareva Margarita

@[Lepis]

[Lepis]

i feel
a bad moon rising

Though the ground they tread with conversation grows more sturdy as they continue their back-and-forth, Lepis is still wary of the spear and the blood. It’s all well and good for Castile to invite Sabra here to heal, but who does he expect to care for her? Does she even need care? Surely at least an extra set of eyes with her at all time; that blood is sure to lure predators.

It might even lure in the equine type, and Lepis’ mouth nearly twists with displeasure at the possibility. At least they have Oceane back, she reminds herself. She might be feeling less than fond of the piebald at the moment, but he is not without his positive qualities. It is easy to forget those when one is irritated or ill at ease.

Calm, she reminds herself, keeping the emotion within her chest. Nodding, Lepis takes note of the other mare’s careful speak. It is at odds with her bluntness before. Perhaps she is simply hurting. Lepis had not been patient with her broken wing. Reminding herself to feel a little more patient as well, Lepis is unbothered by Sabra’s reaction to her offer to help.

“I can control emotions,” she tells Sabra. “Give new ones anyway. I cannot take away the pain of that…thing. But I can make you feel better about it, at least temporarily.” Her tone is straightforward, and the offer she makes seems simple.

n | l

@[Sabra]

[Sabra]

Sabra

There is conflict on her face, and I can only guess what causes it. I am about as welcome as snow in midsummer, but I'm here, and she's said I may stay. That, as far as I'm concerned, is that. What else there is to decide, I'm sure I don't know. 

Then, bizarrely, her expression changes. The tension melts like sugar on a tongue. Her eyes soften and her shoulders relax and I blink in confusion at the sudden change. I realize only after she speaks that she has given me a preview of the power she mentions, and my lip curls in response. 

Meddling with my emotions? Has that not been done enough? My head shakes with curt defiance, the magic acting on me amplifying the lack of trust I already experience. "No. I think not. It hurts, but at least the pain is honest." I'm curt with this, the crystal of my eyes hardening against the placid grey gaze that meets them. I own the pain, not the other way around, and I'll be damned to let the magic of another dull the pain just to ease my discomfort temporarily. That kind of magic is addictive, and I won't find myself begging for more when that first dose wears off. 

The dull feathers of my wings shuffle in the light breeze the mountains funnel through their valleys, my legs weary of standing in one place. The rough edges of my isolation are rising up around me in an unforgiving wall, tired of playing nice, tired of explaining myself. 

"Anything else? Or am I free to pass." I hope it's the latter. I'd like nothing more than a knoll to rest in right now, a drink and a warm patch of sun. Simple, easy pleasantries that you miss terribly when you're dead. The weariness passes briefly over my face, covered again quickly with my icy mask. If she has other questions I may just lie here while she asks them, rude or not.

I wanna be Immortal, like a God in the sky


I wanna be a silk flower, like I'm never gonna die

Photo by Kareva Margarita

@[Lepis]

[Lepis]

i feel
a bad moon rising

Still lulled by her own projection, Lepis takes the accusation that dulling pain is dishonest with nothing more than a flick of her ears. So be it, says a shrug of her golden shoulders. If the motion shifts her navy mane, making her own scars visible for a moment, it is surely not intentional. She will let the subject drop then, her reaction seems to say, at least until she adds with a more obvious sense of finality: “If you change your mind, you need only ask.”

Then Lepis shifts her weight, a physical sign that she, too, is satisfied with where this conversation has brought them. She either ignores Sabra’s exposed weariness or does not see it with her blue-grey eyes on the horizon. Anything else, Sabra asks, drawing Lepis’ attention back to the face of the opalescent mare.

“Go on,” she says mildly. There’s a sense of dismissal about the phrase, the casual way she turns her body just the smallest bit away with the way she leans. And once more, chooses to add something when before she’d seemed finished.

“The Crescent shaped lake is saltwater. Whether that’s better or worse for a wound like that, I think you’d not appreciate the surprise regardless.” Lepis rather enjoys a salt soak at the end of a cool autumn day, but she does not having a gaping hole in her chest. Sabra might have other preferences, Lepis allows.

n | l

@[Sabra]