"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've seen devils, i've seen saints I've seen the line between them fade
"But that's not fair!"
I was crying, but I had known in a way that it was coming. Mother looked at me with bored eyes, but no real malice. Why should there be? She had washed her hands of me, there was no point reacting. If I wanted to cry, she only had to listen to it for another day or so.
"It's absolutely not," my glittering dam agreed. "You know what else isn't fair? Getting landed with a kid you didn't ask for. I guess life just isn't fair! You should probably try to get used to it." She smirked, and it was the closest my mother ever got to smiling at me.
My tail twitched between my legs, wrapped around one ankle in a self-soothing touch. She was sending me away. To live with horses I didn't know, in a place I'd never even heard of. I'm not naive enough to think she'd ever try to see me again once I'm deposited with her strangers.
I'd been so excited to show her my new markings, the forks of lightning that now throbbed across my skin. Just like hers. She barely spared a glance before sharing her news. More demon magic, she thought. It was good she was getting rid of me now, before I learned anything new. In the morning she'd track us back the way she'd just come from, and then she'd be free.
I didn't let her get that far.
If she was going to abandon me, then it was going to be on my terms, not hers. Save her the walk, because I know she was annoyed that we wouldn't be able to fly there. When darkness fell, I began walking, the opposite direction she'd said we'd be going. As far away from her as I could go. Not that I think she'll come looking for me. No. I know she won't.
I don't know my way in the dark, and where I used to blend in to the night, now my lightning struck coat flickers like a betraying flame as I go. Still, there's no turning back now. Let her find me gone in the morning. With only the slender crescent moon to hang in the sky above me, I move until I can't feel my legs anymore. Until the sun peers over an unfamiliar horizon. Over the sea.
Dawn stains the water blush and gold, and for a moment it's beautiful enough to distract me from my hunger and exhaustion. A sigh whispers past my lips in wonder. Wherever I'm at, it's greeted me warmly, and my steps are lighter now as I go. I want to touch the sea. Want to bathe myself in the water and baptize myself anew. I freed my mother this morning, and in doing so I think I've freed myself.
Cirilla considers herself a very lucky girl indeed, even if she is different from the rest of her family.
Born of draconic parents, her brother and sister seemed to have inherited the best of their genes - Gar is a beast like Father, though a lot friendlier, and Phyx has fire and talons and stunning antlers. Ciri, on the other hand, is much different, being that she was born with just a singular golden horn and the ability to calm her sibling’s tantrums. Clarissa had cooed and awed over the small blue-and-gold filly, but Cirilla still remembers the disappointment in her father’s eyes when he realized that she was not gifted like her siblings.
Clarissa assures her nightly that he loves all four of his children - for who could forget Frenzy, the child Gar had returned with one day - equally, and that his way of showing emotion is much different than hers. It troubles her, though, that she cannot seem to feed him any of her strands of tranquility; it is as if Ghaul has no shred of harmony within his soul. But he is her father, and the king of Pangea, and she loves him very much despite her misgivings.
It is early morning when she stumbles from the nest her family shares, touching her nose to each of her siblings’ shoulders before she leaves. When her small hooves find the beach she loves to race down, she smiles, letting the cool sand embrace her feet like slippers. She stands there silently for several minutes as the cool ocean breeze washes over her and the sun begins to rise. When she opens her eyes again she sees a vividly marked filly in the distance, probably around her age, and with an excited whinny she trots towards the girl.
“Hi there!” she calls in a chipper voice when she is within earshot, her golden tail flicking eagerly. “I’m Cirilla,” she says when she’s only a few yards away. “What’s your name?”
06-04-2020, 01:24 PM (This post was last modified: 06-04-2020, 01:24 PM by Tarte.)
"
I've seen devils, i've seen saints I've seen the line between them fade
I'm weary, but I manage a smile for girl who comes to me. She's beautiful. My utter opposite, in her gown of blue and gold, a perfect little horn on her brow. It would be no shock to me to learn that her mother is an angel, and that makes our contrast all the more stark.
The serpentine length of my tail twists lazily at my hocks while I gather my words, looking over her and my shoulders to see if we are alone, or if she'd brought others with her. She certainly carries their scents. One, I think, I recognize.
"I'm Tarte," I say, mouth twisted wryly at the taste of my own name. "D'you know a boy named Gar?" Eagerness and accusation color my tone.That's the scent I think I've detected, and I step closer to her to be sure. All of the scents are similar, threaded tightly together on her skin, so I reach out to inhale as closely as I can. My muzzle brushes the gleaming gold of her mane, tresses that are sure to be magnificent some day.
It's closer than I'd normally dare get to a stranger, but that promise of someone familiar overrides my caution. His scent is there, I'm sure of it, and so Cirilla knows the dragon boy. A thread of jealously tightens on my heart. How lucky this girl is to know him! And well enough that his scent is embedded in her own. I take a step back again, waiting for her to speak. Aloud or not.
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
His milk-white eye flutters open when his sister touches his shoulder, and for a while he does not move. He worries that Ghaul is just waiting for him to awaken so they can resume his awful hunting lessons. Yadigar does not have the stomach for cruelty and gore that his father has – just the teeth and claws. But he quickly realizes the only sounds around him are Asphyxea’s steady breathing and the distant hush of the waves washing up the shore. Their father has returned to Pangea and left them alone for the day. When he tends to his kingdom, he does not return until nightfall, grinning and mad.
The boy rises up from the nest and watches Cirilla set off toward the sea that borders them. Her warm outline approaches another, one he thinks he recognizes, and he is drawn closer to the pair with his wings tucked firmly to his sides. He has not seen her since he lost his eye and he finds an inkling of shame when he comes near them. Yadigar turns his head slightly so only that blind eye can be seen by his friend. The eye glows weakly and swirls with some foretelling of their future, a path that twists and turns and knots itself up into some tangled friendship.
But he remains perfectly unaware of it. For him, there is only this moment. He glances at Cirilla and he wishes their father favored him the way he does her – the way he never throws her to the ground and holds her by the throat as he demands obedience. She is too much like their mother for him to even consider laying his claws on her. He knows because that is what he hisses in Yadigar’s ear when he is especially angry. Cirilla is beautiful in every way while Asphyxea is powerful and wild. And what is he?
A coward. A dog with no bite.
But he forces himself to smile because he loves her despite all this. Because she curls against him in her sleep and calms him when he finds himself dreading his own existence.
“She’s my sister,” he explains in a tone that is desperate to seem excited about anything at all. “Did you come here by yourself? I’m glad to see you again.”
And this time his voice is sincere in its happiness. She is, after all, his only friend outside his family.
She is different, and Ciri finds herself immediately taking a liking to the magenta and lightning-marked girl. They are polar opposites in looks but Cirilla likes that about the stranger, from her wings and her horns down to her spade-tipped tail. She introduces herself as Tarte and Ciri smiles brightly at her follow-up question, but she doesn’t respond as Tarte steps forward. It is unusual for a stranger to be so bold, and Ciri is as still as a statue as Tarte’s nose touches her short golden mane.
When she takes a step back Ciri lets out a nervous giggle, but nods anyways. “I do!” she exclaims, but the approach of another interrupts the rest of her speech, and she turns to find Gar approaching them, a smile that seems almost forced playing on his lips. Eagerly she presses herself against her brother, cradling herself into his warmth. She hopes that Phyx will be along soon as well - normally once Gar leaves the nest, she is soon to follow.
She tries to squash the jealousy in her gut that Gar has already made friends and grown beyond the borders of the Cove, but it’s hard. Despite his friendly demeanor, in Ciri’s opinion he is the prodigal son; Ghaul always takes him gallivanting off on some adventure while he only coos compliments at his sweet, powerless daughter. As if it is supposed to make her feel better? Maybe Ciri wants a taste of that adventure, too.
Oh, if only she knew how wrong she would be.
It will save them a lot of pain down the road.
“How did you guys meet?” she asks, eyes shining brightly as she grins at Tarte. “There hasn't been many other children in the Cove that I’ve met yet, but I’m glad you’re here!”
06-12-2020, 10:33 PM (This post was last modified: 06-12-2020, 10:33 PM by Tarte.)
"
I've seen devils, i've seen saints I've seen the line between them fade
I feel my guard slip down as soon as the familiar shape of the dragon boy emerges from the landscape. Here on this shining beach, on a new day, a new chapter of my life, I feel hope flutter in my chest. I buck lightly, magenta hooves striking the pebbley beach with a clatter.
"I found you!" I cry out in pure joy, forgetting my exhaustion for the moment. My muzzle reaches for his to snuffle affectionately, drinking in his comfortingly familiar scent. Later, when things are calm, I will find some secret place to sleep. Then reality will find me, and I will have to come to terms with what I've done. What other options did I have, though? No good ones, as far as I can tell.
I breath a happy sigh and come to a rest by the siblings I've found, my eyes traveling between the pair. There's not much resemblance between them, at least not outwardly. Their thoughts though, are a different matter.
A silly grin lights up my face where new lightning flickers down my nose. "I did!" I crow, my smile widening. "My mother was going to give me to some island king up North. So! I ran away instead." My declaration is matter of fact, the true horror of the statement glossed over with adrenaline. I've escaped, and that's all that matters right now. That, and that I've found my one friend in the world.
I turn my smile to his shining sister, and find her softness gratifying now that I no longer feel hunted. "We met at the playground," I shrug, wondering briefly why it was only the brother who I'd met that day. Where had Cirilla been while we played? "I'm glad I'm here too. Anywhere is better than where I've been. I'll be your friend too, Cirilla." I puff with naive certainty. My life has not been easy so far, but I haven't yet learned that things can always get worse.
My smile goes absent for a moment, and I lose focus as their second voices vye for attention in my mind. I giggle a little, nose wrinkled prettily. "You two should talk more!" I scold teasingly. "Then you might not think your dad likes one more than the other. I bet Phyx thinks the same thing too about one of you. She's your sister too, right?" I ask, trying to place the name to the family.
They've both thought of her, but I also wonder why they're competing for their dad's favor if he's as scary as Gar thinks he is. Maybe Cirilla is actually lucky that she isn't the focus of the stallion's energy?
06-16-2020, 01:26 PM (This post was last modified: 06-16-2020, 01:27 PM by yadigar.)
YADIGAR
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
He enjoys the way his sister curls to him, providing comfort where normally he finds very little. Being in the Cove or in Pangea makes him uneasy these days and he tries to be home as little as possible. But it’s easier to be here with her close by. Tarte’s presence eases the tension a little more despite his shame of being recently disfigured.
He has seen a few other children in the Cove but he does not approach them. Gospel makes him nervous and he fears approaching her young may inspire her wrath the way Ghaul snaps his teeth at anyone who gets too close to the nest. But he doesn’t mention them to Cirilla or to Asphyxea. He doesn’t want them risking their safety for the chance at making new friends. He is drawn from this thought when Tarte touches her muzzle to his, his small ears perking up in surprise as his cheeks grow hot. Yadigar is unused to any sort of affection beyond that provided by Ciri or their mother.
“She was going to just give you away?” he asks with his brows furrowed as he turns his head to face her, forgetting his gruesome wounds. Would he rather be with his family, the good and the bad, or be given to a complete stranger? Either option sounds dreadful to him. “I wonder if you’ll be able to stay.”
His tone fluctuates between hopeful and nervous. He does not know how kind their people would be to a stranger but he wouldn’t dream of letting her be whisked away to the north – not when his father speaks of destroying that region daily. But then Tarte is explaining their thoughts revolving their father and he snorts in surprise at her words. The idea of discussing Ghaul’s love turns his stomach and he takes a step back.
“I don’t think he loves Cirilla more. I know he does,” he states flatly, his ears suddenly pinned against his head. “He told Asphyxea he was proud of her for ripping my eye out. Then he held me down and made sure I would never get it back.”
His milky eye brims with tears but he will not allow himself to cry again. He mourned that beautiful golden eye long enough.
“Father nearly broke my wing when I tried to refuse his orders. And what does he order Cirilla to do? Absolutely nothing. She could never do wrong, to him,” he spits, extending that wing to display the angry teeth marks at its base. It still hurts to move but he wants them to see what a father’s love has earned him. “And if you breathe a word of this to him, he’ll kill me. Not even Mother will be able to stop him.”
He clenches his jaw and one tear rolls down his starry cheek, but he permits himself no further sign of weakness.
The three children are a vibrant sight on the Cove’s beaches, but the conversation is about to take a sinister turn.
Tarte explains that her mother was going to ship her away and Ciri audibly gasps, horrified at the thought. Mother would surely put a quick stop to that if Father ever suggested such a thing, especially at such a young age. Ciri can’t imagine what it would be like for her parents to so carelessly toss her away, and she blinks quickly to hide the sympathetic tears that well up in her golden eyes.
Gar ponders if she’ll be able to stay with them in the Cove, and Cirilla giggles at him, nudging him playfully on the shoulder. “Of course she can stay!” she exclaims, her innocence betraying her. “Daddy is the king, he won’t tell her that she has to leave!” She is confident in her words and she grins at Tarte, happy to finally have made a friend outside of her siblings. Father won’t make her leave, of that she’s sure. All Ciri would have to do is give him her famous lopsided grin, and he would be putty.
But the conversation is already sweeping along, and Ciri’s ears flick in confusion. “Are you… reading my mind?” she asks, but Yadigar is snorting and backing away from the two of them, a wave of distress and anger rolling off of him that Ciri cannot keep up with enough to try to quell. I know he does, he says with ears pinned back, continuing on as if the words are not daggers.
When he lifts a wing to display their father’s teeth marks she begins to cry, the tears hot on her cheeks. “Gar, I didn’t know, I swear,” she whimpers, afraid to upset him further. “Mother will put a stop to this, I know she will. We just have to go get her, she won’t let him hurt you anymore, I swear she won’t let it happen again.” How she regrets her private thoughts now, and how effortlessly Tarte had stolen them from her mind. Certainly she had meant no harm, but it feels as though Father’s talons are ripping their way into her chest.
06-28-2020, 06:29 PM (This post was last modified: 06-28-2020, 06:29 PM by Tarte.)
"
I've seen devils, i've seen saints I've seen the line between them fade
I shrug, uncomfortable with the pity in their voices. Things had been bad, yes, but I was trying so hard to think of this as an adventure. Of making this my own idea, and not a panicked reaction to my mother's plans. I can see from the shocked expressions my statement it met with that this is not the reality.
Glum feelings turned worse when she spoke. Too much, too soon, and suddenly their chatty trio has gone bitter. Cirilla's face went from welcoming to concerned, and Tarte understood in that moment that there were some things she should keep to herself. "I-i'm sorry, I-" can't help it, I finished silently, cut off by Gar's interjection. Dawning horror sank into my bones when I saw the truth supplied in raw pink scar tissue.
Guts churning at the sight, I haven't got the words to fill the space we've cracked open between us. My own tail aches in places. It's always been too snake-like for my mother's liking, a target for her irritable nips before I learned to keep it wound close by my heels whenever she was near. But those scars are far more healed than the ones that run across his face, along his shoulder. A harsh swallow convulses my throat as I absorb what I'm seeing, faint blue light gleaming in my eyes.
I'm angry, I realize. Angry that anyone would dare to hurt my friend. Angry in a way that I wished someone would have found the time to be angry for me. Fine threads of my anger reach out, seperate from my body. They are faint, for now. The others may not even be able to feel it, but my wrath is strong. One day I will learn that it is strong enough to infect others.
Instinctively, I put my head on Cirilla's shoulder. It couldn't be her fault that their father has taken to violence when it comes to her brother. Gradually, my breathing slows. My anger fades, leaving inspiration in its absence. "Run away with m-me," I say, almost too quiet to be heard. I shudder, looking between the siblings with cautious hope.
"You too, Cirilla. If you want. We'll keep each other safe." Somewhere in this wide world, there has to be some place we can go. Some kingdom that would take on three fearful children, and not punish them simply for existing. Solemnly I watch their faces.
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
Yadigar wonders if their parents have ever thought of sending him away in a similar manner. But then again, Ghaul is hellbent on raising a son who is strong enough to withstand any form of abuse. No one else could carve strength as deeply into his scales as the Pangean king, if strength is even the right word for what he is creating. A soft snort leaves his nostrils when Cirilla insists that Tarte will be able to stay with them. Perhaps she would be allowed to stay if his sister was the one to ask.
But before he can share his theory with the others, the conversation begins to spiral into a sort of darkness he has become accustomed to. Cirilla tries to apologize but her words only fan the flames of his fury. When the threads of Tarte’s magic seep into his skin, he bares his fangs and snaps his jaws in irritation with a feral clack of teeth. Their mother’s love blinded her from the worst of her husband’s behavior.
“Who do you think asked for that head we keep in the nest?!” he shouts, begging her to think and see the hideous truth they have all turned the other cheek to. His jaw is clenched and his breathing grows shallow, frantic when he turns to Tarte. Run away? The thought sends a shiver down his spine as he imagines what the consequences for that sort of treason could be. Would he meet the same inevitable fate some day if he stayed, though? He could dip into the visions provided by his eye but he has always recoiled from the thought in fear. The sound of his pulse thundering in his ears is deafening as he makes up his mind.
“We’ll go north. He has allies in the west and an agreement with the south,” he explains, lowering his voice as his spiked tail twitches nervously.
