"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'd bare you my heart, if I knew that it still was there I'm too nervous to look, too afraid to close the book
She does not often travel to the other lands. She forgets, if she is being honest, that she is a Queen—leader of one of only four kingdoms—and not just Alpha of her small pack. She can sometimes forget the weight of that expectation when she is stalking the mountains alongside Atrox, or running the border with Maze, or taking to the skies completely and utterly alone. She forgets about her mother curled up asleep in the corner, with her father resting near her. Forgets about Ghaul handing her the crown.
Forgets the war, the death, the destruction.
And in those moments, she’s just Breach.
Today is not one of those days. Recent events have shifted the weight, made the air thinner almost, and she is suddenly acutely aware of the responsibilities that lie at her feet—the activities of the lands beneath her. It is thus that she decides she needs to expand her exploring to not just the mountainous range.
So she takes to the skies at first. Cutting across the land mass that is Beqanna proper as an eagle before she dives into the ocean outside of Sylva, diving into the water as a sailfish. She has less practice with aquatic creatures, and she finds she enjoys them less than creatures of land and air, but she has to admit that there is something deeply pleasing about making the ocean her home. The way that underwater comes into stark contrast and, then, the speed that comes to her as she sluices through the tides.
It is exhausting though and when she arrives at Islandres, the journey and multiple shifts have caught up to her. She reaches the shore and shifts back into herself as she stumbles up on the beach, breathing heavily. Her tangled mane sticks to her thin neck and her nostrils flare as she gets more familiar with the feeling of breathing once more. Even this though does not dampen the light in her dual-colored eyes as she glances around the shore, the feeling of adventure lighting something recognizable in her once more.
so take all the wind from my lungs if you're out of air just deliver me truth, deliver me you
Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free
The constant clouds of winter have at last been pushed away by the heat of spring, and Gale enjoys the feel of the warm air beneath his feathered wings as he soars over his island home. It is riotous with color and birdsong, and a warm gust from the sea fills the brindle stallion’s nose with the crisp scent of the sea. The scent of the sea, and of someone unfamiliar.
Erne is on the far edge of the island, brooding a pair of speckled eggs with his mate, and though he knows Aedan’s family are nearby he has not yet asked to borrow the use of their eyes.
He must see with his own eyes, then, and alters his slow spiral over the island so that he might land on the black sand beach. He slows from the gallop of his landing to a leisurely walk, drawing closer to the unfamiliar mare with a good-natured smile on his face and a light humor to his voice when he speaks
“I see neither wings nor fins that might have brought you to our shores, but nor do you look as though you’ve washed up against your will.” She looks to have come here purposefully, though for what he is not sure. Trust had been reborn with him with he emerged from his Loessian grave, and six years in peaceful Islandres has done little to change that. (He knows that there is conflict on the mainland, war and death and things that he prefers not to think of.)
She does not look dangerous, and he does not treat her as such; the smile on his lips is matched by guileless curiosity in his bright eyes. Had she looked dangerous – with wild eyes, slavering jaws, or fire dancing about her skin – perhaps he might have been more wary. Or perhaps not, for he is a creature in his prime and in his element, gifted with more than the sturdy limbs and sinewy muscles that have always been enough to keep himself and those he treasures safe.
“What brings you my island?” He asks, the possessive coming naturally. Islandres is his, much as it is Eyas’ or Vita’s or even little Islay’s, and so even that seems welcoming, especially when coupled with the offer that follows: “If you are thirsty I can guide you to a stream, but I’m afraid our famous Islandres grapples won’t be ripe for another few weeks, and have only grazing to offer if you are hungry.”
I'd bare you my heart, if I knew that it still was there I'm too nervous to look, too afraid to close the book
She does not have to wait long to be greeted—only a few minutes, which she uses as a chance to catch her breath. By the time that he walks up to her, her breathing has slowed, nostrils no longer needing to flare so widely to steady herself, and she is able to offer him a genuine smile—the kind that she had been able to offer more readily in her youth, but still looks genuine on her mouth. Her dual-colored eyes light up as she studies him, taking in all of the details that make him so unique, nearly alien.
By the time she returns to his own eyes, there is no short of genuine curiosity.
“Curiosity, mostly,” she answers with a crooked tilt of her mouth, settling in the sand—taking stock of the way that it shifts beneath her. “I am indeed thirsty though,” she takes note of how dry her mouth feels and wonders at how it can feel such when the rest of her remains absolutely soaked from her swim.
Content to take him up on the offer, she steps forward.
“My name is Breach,” she offers companionably, nodding forward and trusting that he would lead her to the stream that he had mentioned just a moment ago. “I’m from Hyaline.” It sounded strange to say it that way and an expression quickly flickers across her face—something of the wrongness, as if she had bitten into something sour or distasteful. “At least that is where the pack currently is.” Not that she had any true desire to uproot them from the kingdom—not after she fought so hard for it—but it felt like a betrayal of her mother’s original vision to not at least leave the option open for them to roam to other places.
Shaking off the reminder of her responsibilities, she trains her attention on him again.
“i’ve never been to one of the islands before. It was further than I expected.”
so take all the wind from my lungs if you're out of air just deliver me truth, deliver me you
Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free
Curiousity, she says, and there is no fault in such a reason. This island is a wonder even to those who have not heard of the place, and even those he has told or even shown always seem to doubt their eyes at first arriving. The black beaches, turquoise sea, and jewel-toned plant life are inordinately pleasing to the eye, and if she had come simply to look at them for a few moments he would understand.
But surely she had not come all this way from Hyaline just to look.
She is thirsty, and Gale turns to lead her toward the nearby stream, gesturing with the long primaries of a half-furled wing in the direction of the water. It is broader this time of year than any other, still fed by the last of the winter rainfall, and runs out from the purple and yellow forest toward the sea, creating rivulets in the sand where he pauses near a depression large enough to drink from. There are better places farther upstream, but this is the nearest, and Gale has enough memory of extreme heat to appreciate a rapid quenching of thirst over a prolonged but more appetizing one.
“My name is Gale,” he tells her following a short sip of his own. The water is lukewarm, the most common temperature on Islandres, and one that the brindle stallion is fond of. “The pack?” He asks curiously, the familiar word lost in the strange context? She uses it like one might ‘family’, and perhaps it is much the same as his winged kin refer to their resting places as ‘nests’. The golden mare might be more than she seems, Gale thinks, though there is nothing about her that looks non-equine.
He makes sure, watching while he waits for her to finish drinking. He says nothing, not until she comments on the length of her travels.
“I’ve not been to Hyaline,” he tells her. “At least not from the ground.” Nor from anywhere too close in the sky, he thinks but does not say. Though the mountainous land is like most, filled primarily with terrestrial creatures, there had been shapes in the sky, lean quick creatures that the brindle had no intent of crossing lest their share too much with their Pangean kin.
“There are a great many curious things here,” he tells her, thinking of and then mentioning the black animal life that lives beneath the chromatic spectrum of the native plants. “I’d suggest the volcano for biggest ‘wow’ factor but it’d take a while to get there.” He is thinking of the path through the island, on foot through the more populated areas, or the longer (but arguably more picturesque) walk along the western shore with Tephra’s sister peak rising on the distant horizon.
Gale does not like to be away from home for longer than he must, so he asks: “How long were you wanting to stay? There are nearer things I might show you, or give direction to if you prefer to explore alone.” The pegasus likes this place for its solitude, after all, and some things are best alone for the brindle introvert.
I'd bare you my heart, if I knew that it still was there I'm too nervous to look, too afraid to close the book
She doubts that he believes she is there merely to look, but it is such a pleasant thing to believe, that she is not keen to shake the illusion just yet—maybe especially for her sake. In this moment, she can be the young woman traveling Beqanna. She can be the young shifter who simply goes to different lands for the sake of exploring them. Taking in what the world has to offer for no reason other than her own desires.
“Gale,” she repeats as she follows him, mulling over the name and deciding it to her liking. There was something of the wilderness in it—something that spoke of hurricanes and storms and he looks as though he is the product of both. Something formed in the wild but also something that bent it to his will.
Something as natural as breathing.
Something as unique as the cosmos.
She finds it as refreshing as the drink she happily sips, bending her elegant head toward the water and gladly partaking. It soothes her dry throat and she doesn’t bother to hide the relief as she leans back up, droplets falling from her scarred lips. “My family,” she answers easily, although she knows that this is still evasive. She rolls her shoulder before finally elaborating. “I took over Hyaline with a group of shifters. We are a kingdom of them. We just prefer to refer to ourselves as the pack.”
The fact that this pack is her mother’s dream remains tucked away.
There’s only so much truth she’s willing to divulge so quickly.
Instead she flicks her tail at her haunches, relaxing as though she did not have a second thought to consider but this very moment. “I didn’t have a specific timeline,” she says with a small smile curving the edges of her lips, “and I would love the company if you wouldn’t mind taking the time.”
so take all the wind from my lungs if you're out of air just deliver me truth, deliver me you
Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free
Gale had thought her truthful when she named curiosity as her reason for coming to Islandres. He’d not missed that it was mostly the reason, but for all his natural curiosity, the pegasus has never felt comfortable looking for information that is not readily available from a stranger.
He has seen some things even in their short conversation – equine faces, tall mountains, animal transmogrification – that hover most strongly in her mind’s eye. A bright-faced mare with the same feline shape as his brother’s son. By coincidence alone, she wears a single blaze of the same iridescent blue that he wears across his entire body in a shade far closer to nightfall. She looks a little like Breach, Gale thinks, and nods with percipience when she explains that the pack is her family. A pack of skinwalkers, he recalls, confirmation of mountainfolk exclusivity that before had been nothing but rumors over an evening dragonfire.
The pegasus had believed her here for only for curiosity before, but his blue gaze sharpens with a sudden intensity, pinning the visitor to his home with a careful scrutiny, as though he might see something deeper behind the silver-and-blue of her discrepant eyes. He is quiet long enough to give her time to reconsider the request for his company. He has ventured away from the island far more of late, and his recent encounters with Oceane and Midsommar have made him think more about things like take overs and leaders and other things that might spill over from the mainland if he is not ever-wary.
And so wary he remains, but not entirely untrusting. Breach has still not given him a reason to doubt she is here to see Islandres, after all, and Gale does enjoy watching newcomers see his home for the first time. He is sure he is strong enough to keep his home safe, even from the leader of a pack of shifters, but his own curiosity has been piqued, and emerges when he finally breaks eye contact and asks: “So was it wings or fins that brought you from the mainland?” Being fond of his own avian companion, Gale is inclined to think it must have been wings. Does she take the shape of an eagle, he wonders, or perhaps she is dragon-kind?
He listens for her answer with turning navy ears, even as he looks north, and then west.
“I’ll show you the Whale first,” he decides, and begins to walk in the direction of the wooden sign.
for so long had my teeth held my tongue from a venomous voice but the poison has passed from my lips to my hands, an incendiary point
Breach never quite knows where she falls on the line between good and evil.
Or even if she believes there is such a line any longer.
She has been raised on the stories of predators and prey, been told from the very first that the only way to make it in this world is by tooth and claw. The strong survive. It’s the oldest of laws and the deepest of truths. She doesn’t believe in weakness or in politics. She believes in the pack and the strength of the shifters who make it up. She believes in her own strength. She believes that she can survive that.
So it does not occur to her that he would need to be wary of her. He is not prey and therefore she is not predator. Neither is he threat—he does not steal her from her home in the middle of the night and he does not threaten war. So she is but a peer on his shores. Genuine in her curiosity and safe in the olive branch.
“Both, actually,” she answers honestly, feeling both the feeling of being windswept and water logged. “I started by flying and then ended with swimming.” She rolls her athletic shoulders, “The best of both worlds.” She liked stretching her boundaries—liked trying to feel the edges of her abilities.
The exhaustion that settled into her bones now was a welcome feeling.
Her attention does not wander for long though and she quickly feels the way it snags on his words as though nothing else existed at all. “The whale?” There is something nearly childish in the curiosity that she can’t hide, that blossoms on her face as she steps forward next to him eagerly. “What’s that?”
though ritual pyre sending smoke to the sky as the building continues to burn though rapt in the ruin, the pain in the grave, is lies you leave tied to the earth
Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free
Both, she answers, and Gale glances back at her over one striped shoulder. She can take many shapes, it seems, and the resemblance to the pale Hyalinian shifter he had had recently battled is too coincidental to avoid a comment. “You must get along well with Mazikeen,” he says, thinking of the pale mare. He clenches the wrist of his right wing without conscious thought, the memory of sharp teeth piercing his flesh still vivid and recent.
The way she shrugs, as though taking on another shape is a simple as taking to the sky, brings a wry crinkling to the edges of Gale’s bright blue eyes, a half-formed smile that brightens into something lighter as the Whale she speaks of comes into view.
“You’ve seen a whale?” he asks, but for Gale the question is mostly rhetorical – if she’s the ability to take any shape, surely she is familiar with all animals? “Someone made one out of trees, a long time ago. It’s still here, even after all the hurricanes and storms.” The view is still blocked by the purple and yellow canopy of Islandres palms, and Gale’s dark ears catch the eagerness in her voice.
He is fairly sure that it had involved some sort of magic, but exactly what type he’s not sure. There are horses that can manipulate the natural world, he knows. Perhaps some of them are especially skilled at bending wood to their will?
for so long had my teeth held my tongue from a venomous voice but the poison has passed from my lips to my hands, an incendiary point
At the sound of Mazikeen’s name, Breach’s face breaks into a wide grin—and it makes her entire face more vulnerable, more youthful than it had been before. Something of the girl that she had once been and perhaps still was, buried underneath the death and the sharp lines of the alpha. “I get along with Maze very well,” she says her Champion’s nickname without thinking. “We’ve been friends since childhood.”
It felt like so long ago. Childhood.
Sometimes she forgets how young she really is.
The afterglow of his bringing up her friend remains though like sunshine though and she laughs lightly under her breath, jogging lightly as she stays in pace with him. “I have,” she affirms. She spent more time in the air than in the water, but she still had seen pods of them out further in the ocean. “I have never seen them made out of trees though,” she sounds nearly skeptical at this, although it is infused with curiosity.
She casts a glance at him from the corner of her eye, wondering what it must be like to live here amongst the palm trees and the sand. Was it as calm as it seemed? As peaceful? If she had been raised here, would she have turned out the way she did or would she be as kind as Gale? The questions burn in the back of her throat but she swallows them down. “How long ago, do you think?” It’s difficult to imagine.
though ritual pyre sending smoke to the sky as the building continues to burn though rapt in the ruin, the pain in the grave, is lies you leave tied to the earth
Gale run away with me-- lost souls and reverie running wild and running free
Gale’s bright eyes trace the colorful canopy ahead, one ear flicked down and back toward Breach to hear her reply. She does know the pale shifter, it seems. He can hear the smile in the friendly use of what must be Mazikeen’s nickname without even glancing back. This knowledge doesn’t surprise him, though he does wonder – just for a moment – what Mazikeen might have told Breach about him. All she knows are good things, Gale decides after a moment, and maybe who she’d fought in the Alliance hadn’t come up between the Queen and her Champion.
The pegasus glances down, thinking of Breach as a queen, and is somewhat startled to find that the laugh he’d only heard earlier had transformed her entire being. The sensation he’d felt earlier – of her being a predator – remains, and yet he cannot help but feel that perhaps he does not seem quite so much like prey as he might have earlier. She seems brighter somehow, certainly more relaxed, and it appears infectious. (Gale checks, but Pteron is far away in Ischia, and who else projects happiness?)
With the wooden whale coming into view, Gale isn’t look at her for as long as he’d like to, to find out exactly what it was about her appearance that had changed so remarkably.
Instead, he takes a few short side steps so she might see the view unobstructed. The lavender and orange seagrass waves atop the black dunes, and in the center of it all is the wooden board with the image of a whale. That kind – the orcas – are not common here in Islandres, but he has heard they are often found in the northern lands. Much of the paint is worn away, enough that Gale’s guess: “Maybe since before the Reckoning?” seems to make sense.
“I’ve named it Colby.” Gale tells Breach. “The whale, I mean. It’s been here a long time, and I thought it deserved a name.” Gale is rather particular about names after all. He’s proud of having outwaited the fairies and choosing something new for his island, after all.
Gale