"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
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
The Gates may be his home, but the Jungle would always be the home of his heart. As he walks from the Gates, grateful that he had run across the Queen before trekking all the way to the Chamber to find her, he almost sighs in relief, feeling the tension bleed from his shoulders. He loved the Gates and all that it stood for, but he would never be himself there—not truly. He was a caged lion who did his best to be what Heaven deserved. He was calm and quiet and thought first and foremost of diplomacy while his blood ran hot and all he wanted to do was grab the hilt of his sword. He was not his true feral self in its borders.
But when he was gone, he could feel it slipping from him, and he embraced the vicious nature of his fury at the Chamber. The air went from the crispness of the meadows of Heaven to the oppressive humidity of the Amazons. He gulped it in greedily, lifting his handsome, scarred face upward and closing his eyes, the wind slow and languid. This was, and would always be, his most beloved of lands. It made him think of his mother, bright-eyed and quick-tongued, and the jaguar who would prowl the kingdom beside her. It made him think of all of the women he grew up besides, and the way that he loved them. It was his raising that made him so keen on female companionship—so in awe of everything that they had to offer.
Magnus reaches the border, and while he is sorely tempted to continue walking (the Jungle called to him, and the paths unfolded before him like a lover), he knew that he would be a stranger. It adds just a touch of bitterness to the meeting, his lips flattening. With great regret, the buckskin stallion came to a stop by the border, taking a deep breath before letting loose a low, throaty call. If these Amazons were anything like those he knew in his prior life, he would not be here by himself for long.
At first, motherhood made Sunday useless. She was too enamored by the small thing by her side, the little mirror of herself - just eyeless - standing with her nose pressed so delicately to Sunday's rump or shoulder. Quiet, perfect, flawless. Sunday was content to spend her days with her new child and the quiet, lonesome Amazonian jungle.
It's not long until a call rouses her from her afternoon nap. She's not too far from the border, happening upon a quiet veld to rest in. She nudges her sleeping daughter, who stands on her childish legs and stretches in the afternoon sun. Together they make their way to the sound. Sunday shoulders her behind her, allowing the eyeless child to flank her quietly and silently as she approaches the border and the man.
Now, Sunday is not all knowing. She's still trying to decipher colors (auras, but she doesn't know that's what they are) that envelop those she meets. She's still trying to piece together the emotions that her empathy allows her to feel. She always pauses before saying hello, taking in the whole scene. Friendly colors, strong colors...hmm. Colors she's used to seeing around royalty, around her Khalessi's and the kings and queens of other kingdoms. But something has changed in the colors, they're...weaker? She's not sure how to interpret it, but nothing about the man says "foe."
"Hello there, I'm Sunday. Welcome to the Amazons. Are you looking for someone in particular?"
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
He was right in assuming that his being alone would be short-lived. Before he knows it, there is a bay mare before him, and he gives a roughish grin to her; despite the seriousness of his visit, he just couldn’t help being happy to see a jungle woman. “Hello there, Sunday. I’m Magnus.” He nods toward her, instantly at ease in the presence of the Amazonian, even knowing that this was not the kingdom that he knew in his past. He had no way of knowing his daughter was recently Queen or that any of his children still lived. He imagined that there would be no familiar faces in the kingdom, and he didn’t expect them.
It just felt good to be home.
“I am not looking for anyone in particular, although it would be helpful to speak to a diplomat or someone in a position of being able to negotiate.” He rolls his scarred, lacerated shoulders, relieving some of the tension that he had been carrying on his trip down here. “I’m from Heaven’s Gates, and we have recently suffered…an attack.” The word felt weak, but raid wasn’t right and neither was war. What the Chamber had done was play a heavy-handed card against an unsuspecting, weak kingdom. It was cowardly.
“The Chamber targeted our Mother Tree and garden,” concepts that were still foreign to him, “and they kidnapped our Queen.” He pauses, mouth flattening a little. “It’s been a while since I’ve lived in Beqanna, but the Amazons are my birth home.” His gold-flecked eyes move upward, catching her gaze and holding it steady. “I suppose I came here to see where the relationship between our kingdoms stands—and where you would fall should Heaven and the Chamber go to war.” He knew their kingdom was not even remotely ready to sound the battle cry, but he also knew the Chamber wouldn’t go quietly into the night.
10-21-2015, 07:57 PM (This post was last modified: 10-21-2015, 09:07 PM by Anguisette.
Edit Reason: pretty new html
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She loves this place more than any in the world. Never mind that it is all she has known. There can be no place better than the jungle. It is home, all of it. The timid capybaras, the bold howlers, the slinking jaguar spirit who watches over them all. The vines and the kapok trees and the river with its hidden dangers. And most of all, the sisterhood. No damsels in distress, despite what other may think. This is a clan of warrior women and Sette is proud to be one of them.
She is growing up, although not fast enough for her liking. Around her mares are going into heat and seeking mates, a mystery that Sette will not begin to contemplate for herself for many years. Mostly she gives the others space and revisits her old haunts, coming to rest in the usual clearing with her mother each night. It is a routine she would be loathe to lose.
The borders are one her usual spots. She prowls them frequently, eager to greet newcomers and ascertain what they might desire. Several of the mares have commented that she seems to show up everywhere. Anguisette grins at that. The smoky black roan is full of life and energy and youthful optimism, and it shows.
On today's foray she notices a buckskin stallion. Stallion are not unknown in the jungle but they are rare enough to make her stop and scent the air. He doesn't seem to have ill intent, but shortly after the first mare approaches, Sette scrambles up beside her. It's always better to fight in pairs if they can. She rests easily at Sunday's side with a soft nicker for the eyeless filly. Perhaps that should frighten or worry Sette, but she accepts it as normal and says nothing about it.
"Hello Magnus. Sunday. I know we haven't met yet. I heard your names a moment ago. I'm Sette, Lagertha's daughter."
She listens as the stallion speaks, though nothing of what he says surprises her. Lagertha speaks often with Sette, treating her more as an adult than a child. Although the yearling does not know all of her mother's thoughts she has an idea of what she ought to say to Magnus.
"We can certainly bring you to the Khaleesi, if you like. She or Rhy would be the ones with the ability to make firm decisions about an alliance. I think" she adds gently, "mother will certainly ask you what advantage an alliance with the Gates will bring."
The black roan does not mean to be unkind. She is only warning the buckskin stallion of what the Khaleesi will be thinking.
Did he expect to find the recruiter from the Field atop the vine-wrought throne? Probably not - though she had a distinct no-nonsense attitude out there, she didn’t through her title around unnecessarily. Not with… that type of woman. Teak’s ‘advances’ (for lack of a better word) did not make Lagertha feel uneasy, she just isn’t the type to beg someone to join the Sisterhood. You either want to, and find their strength and way of life appealing, or you don’t. Lately, she’s found that Beqanna is being inundated with foreigners who know nothing more than simple herd life and who are easily swayed with promises of a master and protector. The iron lady does her best not to judge them, chalking it up to ignorance and not knowing any better. She understands the desire to not want to have to think about anything and how one can find comfort in a stallion, but there’s got to be others out there who want more than to pop out babies.
It can be rather… frustrating, to say the least.
Today, it is as if the Jungle spirit knows of Lagertha’s frustrations and is taking time to ease them. She hasn’t seen the jaguar in awhile, so it was a pleasant surprise to find it lounging in the tree above her when she awoke. It gave her reason to take some time in the morning for herself, and so she left Sette to sleep some more, slipping off into the Jungle with the cat keeping pace at her side. They travel in silent companionship for a while and the effect is calming; Lagertha’s irritations cease and it is almost as if she is discovering new nuances about the Jungle - a bird call she’d never noticed before, or the beauty in a golden orb spider’s web. At some point, the jaguar takes the lead, choosing a path back towards the border and Lagertha dutifully follows. She’s never know the spirit to go so close to the boundaries, especially in its not-quite-fully grown state, so there must be something (or someone) there that she needs to see.
It’s quite the party already. Lagertha arrives quietly, the jaguar now at her side instead of before her (that might have created a bit of a scare - outsiders could find it difficult to distinguish between the Jungle Spirit and a regular jaguar). Its golden eyes look between Sunday and Sette and the eyeless filly, and then back to Magnus, studying the stallion for a couple of moments longer than it looks at the ladies. And then it does something Lagertha’s never seen it do before - the cat actually winks at Magnus before turning on its tail and slipping back into the Jungle. “Huh,” Lagertha says with some surprise and amusement. “That’s different...”
She shrugs her well-muscled shoulders and turns back to the group at hand, offering a welcoming smile to Sunday and her daughter (eyeless! she’d have to check up on them later), and a gentle bump on the shoulder to Sette. “Magnus, good to see you again…” She trails off, remembering that the stallion is of the Gates (or was, when they met in the Field), and what recently befell them. “How are you?” Still handsome, she thinks, but keeps that little lusty thought to herself.
His attention is diverted as the young girl joins their group, and he turns toward her with his usual stoic demeanor, although his gold-flecked eyes flash kindly. He was always good with children. “Hello there, Sette.” The name of her mother sets off an alarm in his mind, but he cannot remember why at first. His days of recruiting were often full with the faces of strangers, and he was not the best at remembering names and faces, although he did his very best to remain polite. It just wasn’t his natural gift.
“I can understand that,” is all he says when she mentions that the Queen would want to know what benefit the kingdom would gain from an alliance. Magnus knows full-well that he is not coming to a kingdom with a bountiful offer to lay at their feet, and he hates it. It puts himself and Heaven in a position where they are relying on the good graces of other kingdoms; he much preferred to be in the position of power. “But sometimes the advantage is just knowing that you’re fighting for what’s right.”
It was something that he believed in his heart of hearts.
The conversation, however, is cut short when the mare and large cat break through the brush, and his heart lurches for a second at the sight of the jaguar. He knew that it couldn’t be the same animal that roamed the kingdom when his mother was Queen, but the resemblance was uncanny. His heart broke a little when the cat winked and then left, and his smile was soft with nostalgia when he met the Queen’s gaze. “An old friend,” he explains, although he knows that can’t be the truth. At least not the full truth.
By then though, he realizes why the name had sound so familiar, and his scarred smile grows a little at the recognition of the iron mare. Their meeting in the field had certainly been unusual for recruiting. “You again,” he says in his husky voice, tossing his head a little to remove his inky forelock from his sight. “It’s good to see you, Lagertha.” He pauses for a second, considering the question. “I want to say that I am well, but that’s unfortunately not the case—especially when my kingdom does not fare so well.” He rolls his scarred shoulders, honest to the bone. “I am sure that does not surprise you though. How are you?”
An old friend? Lagertha’s eyes narrow in thought. She’s been active in the Jungle for a very long time - the only one there longer was probably Malka - and she’s never seen hide or hair of Magnus. Granted, the Jungle is a large place, so it wouldn’t be too hard to miss him. However, she doubts that every member would have missed a stallion… unless he has the power to make himself invisible, or some sort of animal shifting. The land itself is great protection against spying Pegasi and other horses who may become amongst the twisting trails and entangling vines and trees that all look the same. The better part of her says that no, Magnus is referring to something else and is harmless, but the paranoid (and in these uncertain times, it might be better to be overly cautious) part of her says he is more than he lets on. Then again, she doubts that their spirit would wink to anyone it deems a threat. So she’s going to combine the two and do what Lagertha does best: bluntly ask.
“Oh? How so? I’ve never known it show itself to non-Sisters. Are you connected to the Jungle somehow? I’ve been around for awhile now… and you’ve only recently popped up on Beqanna’s radar.” Her tone is mild and curious, it never rises, merely stating the facts. She imagines that he is somewhat like Prague, or Aoi, or any number of the old ones who fall asleep and wake up with years gone by. But how much of a friend is he? What exactly are his ties? That is what she is most curious about.
They move on the true matter at hand, and as Khaleesi, she is faced with tough diplomacy. Luckily, this doesn’t have to be a matter of careful words and insinuated threats or promises. She can come right out and say it. “Yes, I have heard. But the Gates is lucky to have you now.” She offers him a small smile, for she cannot be the only one who has noticed this new stallion with tireless energy and dedication. The other Kingdoms will be after him soon enough, if they ever want to strike another blow to the Gates. “I am well, thank you. There is a lot in flux at the moment. Changes to keep abreast of, and I will be the first to admit that we are almost too insular sometimes… Oh, to have a flock of my own birds.” She chuckles, and then stops suddenly. He may not find that funny, but it is the truth of the matter. The Jungle is their offense and their defense and it so easy to stay in their beautiful home all the time, especially while the rest of the world freezes.
And then she sighs, a heavy one that is the only sign of how much she doesn’t want to say what must come next. “This isn’t just a social visit. I know what you’re here for, Magnus, but I don’t know if I can give it to you.” She might be able to in the distant future, but not immediately. Not now. Not without asking the Sisterhood first.
If he has come for something else... well then that is still negotiable.
Lagertha
warrior queen of the amazons
[sorry to skip people! Still jump in out of turn if you want! ]
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
Her line of question is direct, blunt—and Magnus finds that he is not surprised in the slightest by it.
From his first encounter with Lagertha, he had assumed that was exactly her nature and he was not disappointed by it now. Of course, answering those questions is different. While he was not a dishonest and evasive soul by nature, it did bring up an entire history that he was not sure he was ready to confront. “You could say that,” he responds in his husky voice, contemplating it for a second before continuing. “I grew up here—lived here the better part of my youth. My mother, Twinge, was Queen at the time.”
He does not expect the group to remember his mother’s name—he knows all too well how the power of a name can become faded by the winds of time—but it feels good to say it, feels good to reminisce even if it brings up memories of the jungle flood that had eventually killed his parents. “I actually come from a long line of Amazon women.” He smiles at this briefly. “My sister, Novae, and her daughter, Tantalize, were both Amazonian women too, and I believe my daughter, Brunhild, called the jungle home as well.”
The longer he stands before them, the more at ease he feels in the heat, the warmth sinking into his bones. “As for why I have only recently popped onto the radar…” his voice trails off, and he rolls his shoulders, “I am afraid that is a longer story.” As much as he liked the Queen, with all of her barbs and armor, he knew that this visit was not very conducive to the telling of the story of his death and subsequent re-birth. Few wanted to hear about the dark magic that had siphoned the saltwater from his lungs.
So he just nods at the compliment, feeling it misplaced but appreciating it all the same. Unfortunately, he knew all too well just how unlucky the Gates had been to have him in the past—and while he wanted to rectify that in Joelle’s memory, he knew it was a steep hill to climb. “I understand,” is all he says at first, lacerated lips a grim slash. “I knew coming here that would most likely be the case, but I am a stubborn, stubborn man, Lagertha, and I will ask it of you anyway—at least ask you to consider the possibility.”
His handsome head swings to consider the group of them, and his smile is crooked, the honesty plain on his face. “Consider allying the Jungle with the Gates, Lagertha.” Magnus’ eyes burn as he continues, “We do not have much to offer now in regards to benefits of an alliance, I know that as well as you do, but we will—soon. I promise. We are growing, and we are getting stronger, and we will not take the Chamber’s attack lying down.” Not if he had anything to say about it. “I understand your hesitation. I know that you will need to do what is right for your kingdom, but consider this: If you stand with the Gates, and if you stand up against the Chamber, you will be putting you, and your sisters, on the right side of history.”
The children of strong Amazonian Queens seem to end up either one of two ways: empowered and sure of themselves, ambitious and eager to make a place for themselves in history; or eager to get out from under their mother’s shadow, distancing themselves in both personality and success. To hear that he is the son of a Queen (and he calls her Queen, not Khaleesi, which means she probably ruled long before Lagertha was born) sort of ties it together for the iron lady. She nods, indicating both her approval and that it makes sense.
However, his next words bring a genuine flicker of excitement to her eyes - and it only gets better Lagertha as he mentions Tantalize, and then Brunhild. She cannot help but interject - “Yes! I - I served under Brunhild. We both did. She was well loved.” A warm, affectionate expression overwhelms her. It has been awhile since anyone mentioned the former Queen, and there are many here who now do not know her name. They know only Scorch - or now, Lagertha. What Magnus doesn’t know is that his daughter gave Lagertha her first vote of confidence, gave the warrior a place at her side and that meant more than the now-Khaleesi could articulate. Tantalize was here too, though she had been absent of late, so Lagertha does not mention her at the moment.
She listens to the rest of his request quietly, studying his honest, earnest face rather intently. Just as he appreciates her bluntness, she can appreciate a man who will cross the country for his home, just to ask, even the face of adversity. There is strength of character in that, and she silently hopes that her initial hesitation will not be taken too hard. When he is done speaking, she takes a moment before nodding. In a matter like this, there is only one option. She has her own ideas on the situation, but in the end it must come down to the Kingdom.
“I will take your request to the sisters. We will get back to you with an answer.” And with that, their conversation is over. A crooked half-smile pops up suddenly, and she says, "Come back to visit whenever you want, Magnus. Just be sure to knock." Trespassers are a personal pet peeve of hers, and though she has given him verbal permission, the other mares won't know that. She'd really hate to see him electrocuted by Rhy or Lyris.
She turns her head to look at Sunday, who has remained quiet the whole time. “Walk back with me, Sunday?” There has been no indication of support in either way from the rest of the women, and she is curious which one they’ll pick. Lagertha has a hunch that there will be war either way - its only a matter of which side they’ll be on. Personally, it doesn’t matter to Lagertha who is right; it matters who wins.
Sunday's silence was unintentional at the beginning. Her eyeless daughter clung to her like a second skin, peering through her fog of sightlessness to observe the conversations with quick flicks of her ears. Sunday wondered if the foal would ever detach herself from her side and fulfill her own destiny - but she doesn't rush the child. It's her first child, she will always hold sway in the chestnut mare's large heart.
The jungle creature appears and Sunday offers a wicker of hello and welcome to the old spirit, despite how youthful it may seem. It has a level of familiarity with the stallion she's never seen before, and it probes her to dig deeper into that aura. The colors that surround him are the same purple that Lagertha's are - royalty, she's come to associate with - and a mingle of other things she's picking through. She's distracted, catching his associations and his lines as she sorts through each color respectively. Ah, yes, she sees the tie to the Amazons then.
The jungle spirit catches her attention then, its voice quiet and calm in her head. She listens, her brow furrowing. The conversation between the two has ended and Lagertha requests her assistance walking back to the heart of the jungle.
"Troubling, these attacks," Sunday says once they are well away from another. She knows they're alone - except her eyeless child - because she can feel the magic in the jungle like extensions of herself.
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