"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
“Ischia.” She’d told Garbage with a smile, and then the two of them had set out. It wasn’t too difficult for Agetta to keep up a companionable amount of conversation - centred mostly on Beyza and the strange but talented triplet granddaughters that Agetta was fond of visiting.
Beyza could sense her mother’s arrival and waited where the sandbar path connected Ischia to the mainland. The islands had become quiet but this suited her. Soon her daughters would be old enough to venture out, create lives and mistakes of their own. Perhaps she would follow, or perhaps she had rooted herself here in the soft sand and would be content to no longer play a part in how the world was shaped. Her magic would continue to be used for idle entertainment instead of life and death.
But today will not be an idle or entertaining day, it would seem. It is a shock to see the figure next to Agetta when they arrive in the late afternoon. Although Beyza had not met Garbage, from her venture into the white mare’s mind she knew him. Knew that the loss of him had been the final stone that shattered Agetta’s heart that had been fracturing for a century.
What was it that he had told her - you are nothing to me?
And now they arrive together, Agetta friendly and smiling. Of course, she would be helping him, even without the memories of their life together. Agetta would probably help each and every one of the men that Beyza had cut from her mind if they had shown up, blissfully unaware of the damage they had caused her that she assumed was her own shortcomings and not theirs.
It takes only a short time to get Beyza caught up to speed and the magician spends those moments trying to sort out which was the better option. To refuse and allow Garbage and Agetta to live in relative peace, troubled by their lack of memories but without the weight of their lives. Or to knock over the first stone that would surely start a landslide.
If she refused, would they still find a way back to each other anyway? Caught in each other's gravitational pull without even knowing it.
Agetta stands next to Garbage on the sunlit beach, offering him an encouraging smile while Beyza asks quietly “Are you sure?”
He follows, and he listens to her, the tales of the spectacular children and grandchildren. He feels a strange ache in the hollow of his chest when they speak of children, and he wonders, not for the first time, if he has any of his own. If he was good to them, and what they’re doing now, if they’re even alive.
They make it to Ischia, a kingdom unknown to him in all lives, and they find Agetta’s daughter – Beyza, she had said her name was. The magician. Garbage smiles at her, still feeling that gnaw of hope, and though a strange look crosses her face when she sees him, he tries not to ponder on it.
He greets her, and they explain his plight, and he locks eyes with the magician. There is something still in her gaze, something he cannot put a name to but feels it on his skin, and he wishes she would articulate it. Perhaps he is unfixable, after all, and she is trying to find the kindest way to tell him.
Are you sure? Beyza asks, and there’s something in that tone, too, but Garbage doesn’t dwell on it. He’s too damn hopeful, the taste of his old life on his tongue, and he, so blissfully unaware of all the sins in that old life.
“Yes,” he says, and his voice resonates with surety, because he thinks, in his naivety, that there could be no worse life than one lived without a past.
“Please,” he adds, “please, I want to be whole again.”
The magician sighs – or maybe he just imagined that – and she touches him on the forehead. It’s a kind touch, but it does not ignite him in the way Agetta had, and he wonders, briefly, why that is. He feels a sense of opening, recesses of his mind waking, and then the memories hit like earthquakes.
He remembers his mother, her screams, he remembers the way she had broken beneath him, his own skull breaking, eyes on the sand, is this enough, is this enough--
He remembers the magician making him whole and loving him until he didn’t, leaving him with that magic-got son who he raised alone until it became too much—
He remembers the boy, too young, shivering in the cold, and him, too old, saying I could keep you warm--
He remembers dying, seawater in his lungs, following a dead woman to the bottom of the ocean and thinking finally--
He remembers bodies, so many, and some love him and some think him only a passing fancy, and he deserved none of them—
He remembers her. That kindness. That forgiveness.
And she does not remember him. He knows this, now, too. Hindsight is so glaring in its obviousness. He doesn’t know why she doesn’t remember him – maybe she’d died, too – but he knows she doesn’t. She had brought him here out of that same kindness that had made him fall in love with her, but not because she felt anything other for him. And perhaps that is for the best, he thinks now, fully reacquainted with his host of sins. It must have been a burden, to love him, and he is glad she is free from it, even if he doesn’t know how he can look at her, because it will be obvious now, surely, writ plain upon him.
His eyes have been closed as the inundation of memory took place, but now, he opens them. Looks at the magician. Wonders if she knows. Surely she does.
He looks at Agetta. How could he have ever forgotten her? He manages a smile, and maybe it’s genuine enough, because how can he not smile when he looks at her? He doesn’t need to be remembered to love her.
“Agetta,” he says, and oh, what a treasure it is to say her name with memory behind it, “you have a wonderful family.”
He looks back to the magician.
“Thank you,” he says, and maybe his voice breaks, and then he catches Beyza’s eyes, and thinks: don’t tell her. Please.
With her muzzle to his forehead, Beyza makes (some) attempts not to watch the play of memories as they resurface. A few she’d already glimpsed inside Agetta’s memories but others are new. He is shattered in his own way and guilt stirs in Beyza’s stomach before she erases it.
What she had done for her mother was better than the alternative, it is just that she cannot help but grieve for a moment that the pair standing before her had lost their way from one another.
Agetta watches quietly - nervous for this near-stranger and filled with hope for him. She sees Beyza nod before he opens his eyes and so she is already wearing a smile when he looks at her, delighted for him to finally know whatever it was that he was missing. That smile falters - not into something sad, just thoughtful. Because something has changed in the way he looks at her and when Agetta looks back into those beautiful orange eyes she can almost name it. It is a warmth spreading through her that has nothing to do with the tropical afternoon sun.
She’s grateful when he looks away to Beyza to give his thanks, confusion seeping into her but it must just be gratitude in his gaze - this Agetta who believes she’s never known love would not know how to recognize it when it is staring at her in the face as it is now.
The white eyes of the young magician are sad as Garbage thanks her, as she watches Agetta look at someone she loves and not even know it. She can’t tell which she regrets more: giving the stallion back his memories or taking her mother’s, even though she knew both were kind actions and surely were the right things to do. Either way, they keep missing each other even as they stand side-by-side.
This was love, surely. This was something she could have never had with Jamie.
And Garbage’s thoughts are not missed.
Beyza does not tell him the words needed to unlock Agetta’s memories, but she sends gentle whispers into his mind to tell him what she had done and that it is not permanent. She tells him how broken Agetta had been when he hadn’t remembered her and how she had wanted the peace of death - though the magician also tries to stress this was not his fault, it was several lifetimes of grief and pain and guilt. Though she had before, she finds it difficult to blame him now that he stands before her - now that she knows how he feels about her mother.
She tells him how she couldn’t give her mother what she wished and instead had done this, relieving her of the memories that were drowning her until she found a way to carry their weight again.
Be kind to her Beyza tells him, though she doesn’t doubt he will try in whichever way he interprets this request.
Outloud, Beyza encourages them both to linger in Ischia, stay for the sunset. “The girls are exploring the mainland right now but they’ll be back soon.” Agetta’s smile warms again at this thought while Beyza turn to Garbage and adds “There shouldn’t be any side effects but if you have any further trouble, please find me.”
And then the magician takes her leave, knowing whatever is to come needs to play out between the pair on their own.
There’s a short, uncertain pause before Agetta asks quietly, hopefully: “How do you feel? Better?”
He doesn’t expect Beyza to reply. He doesn’t know what he expects, really – he is still reeling from the shockwaves of his revelations, still reeling at the sight of her. Everything is shifting and unsteady - like sand, he thinks, and suppresses a shudder – but he is doing his best to hold his ground. To not wear his new knowledge so nakedly, the memories that already seem impossible to forget.
Maybe not so impossible. Because Agetta forgot, too.
She wanted it, the forgetting, and how could he blame her? For this is the new revelation – he is the cause of it. He shouldn’t be surprised – he always knew he would disappoint her.
He wants to apologize even though she wouldn’t know what he’s apologizing for. The apology still sits ready on his lips, as familiar as breathing. He did not mean to hurt her – never, never – but just because there was no intention behind it - no knowledge, even - doesn’t mean that she didn’t hurt because of his actions. His awful words.
(Because he remembers that too now, doesn’t he? Those stupid words. You’re nothing to me. A stupid, inadvertent cruelty. And he can read the true depths of her pain as he plays that memory in hindsight, knowing what he does now. He’s such a damned fool.)
Be kind to her says the magician in his mind, and he thinks, of course, always.
He wasn’t kind to her on the riverbank though, was he? How could he possibly atone for that?
(He wonders if he could have fought harder. If maybe he had tried harder, thought on it more, visited every inch of Beqanna trying to spark some memory – could this have been avoided? Could he have known sooner?)
(But no. He had only just died when he cut her to ribbons with his words. Some cruelties are unavoidable, maybe.)
Beyza leaves them with the promise of a sunset and for a moment Garbage wants to beg her not to go. He isn’t sure how to be alone with this woman he so deeply loves.
“Thank you,” he says again as she leaves, and then they are alone beneath a sky that has barely begun to change and Agetta asks how he is, a question he has never been less sure on how to answer.
“Yes, better,” he says, then takes a breath, “there was…a lot that I had forgotten. More than I thought. Some of it was wonderful. Some of it was…difficult to remember.”
Her dark eyes are gentle on his face as he replies, and it’s instinct to reach out to touch him softly on the shoulder when he admits some of the memories were difficult to remember. “I’m glad you have it back. Even with the difficult bits, it is better to know who you are - bad and good - right?” Easy for her to say - this mare who believes she’s lived through generations and been lucky to avoid true heartbreak and sorrow, who thinks she’s lived an ordinary and boring life.
She doesn’t even remember the quest where she had received the golden marking on her face - because even then, even at the very beginning, her affection for Garbage had influenced her actions.
The idea of staying to the sunset was a pleasant one when it had been presented but now Agetta isn’t sure how to spend the time until then - or whether Garbage would prefer to spend his time sorting out the memories he had been given. Still, if someone needed to come to terms with a lifetime of memories - there could be worse places to do it. Here it is just the clear sky and the sound of the waves nearby.
She begins to walk towards the western side of the island, where there is no land to interrupt the horizon and they will have the best views for what will come later on - there is a pause, with her midnight eyes lingering on his face. Agetta just smiles, silently asking if he will join her. If not, she will understand. They’ve become friends today, she thinks, and she enjoys his quiet company (and enjoys that she was able to help him, enjoys feeling useful).
Even without the full weight of her memories, Agetta knows she prefers not to be alone - she has not forgotten what it was like to be a ghost, even if she’s lost what had driven her to avoid contact until she had lost her sense of self enough for her to come crawling back to Beqanna (where she had found him).
But if he does join her - while they walk along the sand she will ask him “Have you been here before?” because now that he has his memories, the answer may be different than before.
There is a pause before he answers her, knowing what he does now – what her daughter has done for her.
(He will think, later, on the irony of this – how they have gone to the same magician with their pleas, how she has removed and put back memories on the both of them.)
“Yes,” he says, “it’s better, to know who I am. What I’ve done.”
And it is. Even as he’s seen these sins unravel, he knows, at least, that they are a core part of him. An ugly, rotting part, perhaps – but still part of him. He would not want to go about his life without knowing what he has done, because he must be repentant for it, he must be better than he was.
This is not to say he judges her at all for what she did. He is glad she has done it. He is used to pain – he will always hurt, he thinks – but he knows now that he would die to keep her happy. An excision from her memory in exchange for her happiness is a wonderful bargain.
(He thinks she is happy. He hopes.)
She begins to move, and he follows without hesitation. It’s risky, probably – he doesn’t know how to act anymore, doesn’t know how to behave like someone who is not in love with her – but he is helpless before her. It is a familiar feeling, and he thinks it’s worth it, the knowledge of his sins, because he knows things like this, too.
“No,” he says, when she asks if he’s been here before, “I was always a nomad. The only kingdom I knew was the Deserts, and they’re long gone.”
He’s glad for this. He’s glad that that particular place can only exist in his memories.
“It’s a lovely place, though,” he says, though truth he told, he hasn’t noticed much of it. But any place where she’s present is a lovely place.
“Do you visit here often?” he asks, a banal question, but it’s either that or say once you saw me in the deserts, saw the worst part of me, and you spoke to me about forgiveness and maybe that’s when I first loved you or maybe it was before that, even, and of course he can’t say that, but maybe she knows about the deserts and maybe that’s enough.
08-22-2021, 09:09 PM (This post was last modified: 08-22-2021, 09:15 PM by Agetta.)
Agetta feels relief when Garbage joins her, when there does not even seem to be a hesitation. She may have understood if he lingered, but she had her preference on the answer to that unspoken question. And then she listens as he answers her question - her curiosity sparking when he mentions a kingdom she knew once. “I was from the Gates, I visited the Deserts on occasion. Diplomatic missions and such. I wonder if our paths ever crossed.” It was a nice thought, though she remembers so little from those days. Time has eaten away most of her memories, that must be back when she had met Kensley. Buried beneath the years and the memories that had followed.
It is odd to remember now and then that she had been a queen once, though that means so little now. There is no fame associated with that title (and if there were, she’d shy from it). She just became part of the history, just another piece of the landscape while the younger generations moved around.
She had not thought Garbage looked old enough to remember those kingdoms, but Agetta is glad to meet someone else who remembers that time.
They walk side by side, black and white down the line where surf and sand meet. She keeps a slow, meandering pace - it won’t take long to get to the part of the beach she is aiming for and Agetta is enjoying his company.
To his question, she nods - a smile quick to form. “I try to, it’s nice to see my grandchildren.” But then more troublesome thoughts seep in too, and she voices them without really considering whether it is an overshare - her expression turning troubled. “My daughter Mazikeen was expecting too, but… well I’m not entirely sure what happened, but there wasn’t a baby when I visited in the spring last year.”
08-27-2021, 06:13 PM (This post was last modified: 08-27-2021, 06:13 PM by garbage.)
he must be wicked to deserve such pain;
He smiles at that, although a bit ruefully. He had known she was once Queen of the Gates – he recalls her telling him this, once, but it had been in passing, not something they had discussed in depth. He had not dwelled on it much, he had not known any of the other kingdoms, had not cared when they crumbled into the sea.
“My mother was queen there,” he says, “but I didn’t stay in the Deserts long.”
A bit of an understatement. He only visited there twice, and then again, decades later, in that strange dream that hadn’t been a dream, the quest that had brought Agetta to him in the first place. The thing she no longer remembers.
He wonders, in a horrible way, how much Beyza had excised from Agetta’s mind. If he’d told her his mother had been Craft and if, god forbid, the two had met, what would Agetta say? Oh yes, Craft, wasn’t she murdered by her awful son? Such a shame.
(In truth, Agetta had been kind to him when she knew the circumstances. She had offered him forgiveness and he can still remember that feeling, like birds taking flight within him, a kind of beautiful weightlessness that he had not known he was able to experience.)
There is another hesitation when she mentions Mazikeen. He wonders how much their daughter knows of the events that transpired. He has not seen her since his accident, of course, and the news she may have had a child of her own causes a sort of bittersweet joy. He had not known any of his children long enough to see them have children of their own. He should find her, he supposes, though perhaps she hates him now, for what he did to her mother. Or maybe Beyza wiped him from Maze’s memory, too.
“Are you close with all your children?” he asks, thinking, again, of is own. He hasn’t seen Bad, either, not since before. He’d gotten the sense Bad was bored of him, or disappointed in him, so when the boy began to wander off Garbage had made little moves to stop it, until one day, Bad simply hadn’t come back. Garbage thinks, not for the first time, that he is a terrible father and the children are no doubt better off without him.
Agetta is tempted to ask who his mother was, just to see if she might recognize the name, but she simply nods her understanding instead. Some information, if not freely given, is left undisturbed - and she supposes it doesn’t matter either way. Her curiosity would be better served focused on the present than continuing to linger in the past. She had spent too many years as a ghost, unable to find roots in the present and haunted by all she had lost by living well past her years. Things had become easier lately, her children kept her grounded - but that does not stop Agetta's mind from wondering if it is time for her to move on to the next life. She's clung to this one long enough and there is only so much quiet solitude one can enjoy.
Agetta’s troubled frown as she thinks of Mazikeen and the unknown fate of her baby eases into a smile again at his question. “Some more than others. Mazikeen’s always been a little wild, I don’t see her very often. Beyza and I have grown closer recently.” Her daughter had changed after the eclipse and become softer when she became a mother too. They had been spending more time together as Agetta helped raise the three triplets and used them as an excuse to cease her empty, wandering days.
She thinks of Caledonia and Holler too, and of the two sets of twins she’s had. But this suddenly feels like a long list, and though she does not think it is something to be ashamed of she feels a small prickle of embarrassment. A collection of children and not a one with a father she could remember the name of, only that they had all been nice - and fleeting.
So instead of that truth, she offers up another - “I don’t think I was a very good mother to those I had when I was younger, when the Deserts and Gates were around, but I’ve been trying harder with my younger ones. But even still I worry it isn’t enough for them.” Avoiding one overshare and swerving right into another, Agetta glances at her companion with an embarrassed smile before asking “Do you have any children?”
The sky, like so much else, has begun to change.
Garbage watches it as she talks. He watches the horizon because he still feels exposed when he looks at her too long, sure that his devotion to her would be writ plain upon his face. For all his sins, he has never been much of a liar, and deceit – even if it is for good – does not come easy to him. But his ears flick as he listens, not missing a word, as she talks of her children. They have shared this information before, and it’s not much he doesn’t know (though he had not met Beyza before today, he had met some of the others, and he particularly remembers the rainbow-sheened filly, when he had come across them, a mirror of the way she had come across him and Bad).
“I think all your children are lucky to have you,” he says. It’s not quite a response to her comments – it’s vague – but he also believes this, because he saw how she was with Mazikeen, saw how she was with Holler, and he has no doubt she extended that same kindness to her other offspring. He looks at her when he says it, notices how the changing light reflects in her blue eyes. He has always loved her eyes.
She asks of his children, and he hesitates. He looks back at the horizon, at the ever-lowering sun. It will be dark soon, he thinks, and then what? He will have to bid her goodbye at some point – her good deed was done, after all – but he cannot yet think too much on that.
“Some, in my younger years, but I didn’t know them well,” he says. There were dalliances, and he supposes children came from some of them, but he didn’t know them. And there were the children he had with Tabytha – the twins they left on the beach, especially – but that is too much to bring up.
“Magic let me birth two sons, as well,” he says, “but one I haven’t seen in years, and one...I don’t think he cared for me.” You met him, he wants to say, and you loved me anyway.
The way the dying light reflects on the water is striking. He doesn’t take his eyes off of it because it’s romantic, this scene, and here he is trying not to love her and telling her what an awful father he is. He could have a thousand chances and never get this right.
“It’s beautiful,” he says, “the way the light hits the water. I didn’t think I’d like the water, after drowning in it twice now, but from here…it’s lovely.”
![[Image: Agetta-by-Star-smaller.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/bvb9bQBR/Agetta-by-Star-smaller.png)
