"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
Just like the rest of them, she ran away and never looked back. To anyone else, that might be a sign that Belgarath is a wretched father and probably shouldn’t be trusted with children. Look at Shaytan, she’s a giant, neon warning sign for women that unless they believe in nature vs. nurture, their kids are going to be f-u-c-k, fucked. He will never, ever, ever, ever in a hundred million years that the reason he didn’t walk away when he found her in the Meadow was because his heart pinged a little for Alasia. Esileif is the only connection he has to her, and his little orange-sherbert-and-cream lady was probably the best thing that ever happened to him.
She is now also the most convenient excuse for him to give for his protracted, abysmal behavior. Thanks Alasia!
Not to be a total creeper (he is, don’t let that fool you), but he’s been keeping an eye on Esi. The man that always wants to be in control is infuriated that she’s been slutting it up with not one - but two - stallions in the field. And then to try each of them. Ugh. It makes him vomit a little in the back of his mouth. On the other hand, if he could use Esi in some way to get more power… it’s just a precursory idea, we all know Belgarath is far too lazy to actually put the work into gaining more power via clinbing up the ranks in a Kingdom. However, if someone were to be, say… impressed… with his power and want him to take over with an icy, iron, fist, that would be something he would consider.
Oh, the schemes Belgarath’s made up in his dreams.
He knows her haunts and he knows she’ll be passing this way soon, on the road from the Valley to the Chamber (or is it vice versa?) So he sticks himself in her way, ready to spread an icy spot upon the ground if she doesn’t feel like talking right now.
Back in the herd she had been her father’s little girl, she was Belgarath and Alasia’s only daughter and she had enjoyed that little privilege. Oh, how much she had enjoyed it to be spoiled and cared for, free to do whatever she wanted but all with the knowledge that her parents were there. She had been quite carefree and Esileif looked back on her youth as a good one. Sure there had been some jealousy and hatred towards her gifted siblings, but she supposes she couldn’t really complain about it.
Right now she curses herself for her former lazy nature. If she had only been a little more used to workouts and actually do something she maybe wouldn’t have found the walk from the Valley towards the Gates this harsh. Before this she had never had to cross such long distances at this one and the bay and faint orangey white girl cannot say she likes it.
So when Belgarath comes into her vision she is grateful for the little break he gives her. ”Dad!” she immediately calls out, almost too eager, before changing the easy walk for a more energetic trot. The Spanish influenced girl is grinning as she comes to a halt in front for him, tossing her mane in the air before snorting loudly. ”How have you been?” While her question still lingers in the air she curves her neck slightly to stretch out and reach towards the dapple gray male.
His scent instantly reminds her of home, just like Gryffen’s had done when he had approached her, Magnus and Fennick in the field. ”Dad, did you really leave the mountains?” she brings up the subject right when she is reminded of it. Her head tilts a little to the side as her two toned eyes look at him, waiting for his answer. Not at all does she think of any reasons behind his sudden appearance, after all, in her eyes she had done nothing wrong.
He’s never really prepared for the high-pitched, enthusiastic squeal of girls. Belgarath is far more comfortable amongst his sons than he has ever been amongst his (fewer) daughters. It’s probably his underlying misogynistic thought process and the fact that her mother isn’t here anymore and goddamnit, she looks very much like Alasia. Nevertheless, he tries to put on a smile and is at least thankful that he doesn’t have to break her legs in order to get her to stop. That would really throw a wrench into their relationship.
“Esileif,” he booms (unconsciously, of course - such a broad a deep chest allows for massive lungs and when he uses his chest voice, he might as well be a foghorn), standing still as she comes up to him. “Yep, responsibility is boring, and I hear there’s another war in the works.” He grimaces. “The last one had dragons, and they’re disgusting creatures that can eat a horse in one bite.” The whole Valley burned last time, and while it was fairly well contained, he doesn’t feel any particular affinity for anyone. Certainly not enough to risk his life for a cause. Haha, that’s funny. Belgarath only ever cares about himself. It’s probably time to take another vacation and get the fuck out of Beqanna for awhile.
Luckily for him, this ice thing seems to have frozen all bodily processes and he isn’t aging very quickly.
“What have you been up to…? Making friends in the kingdoms?” As if she could hide it from him.
His booming voice cause her to stop all movements, simply looking at the tall male in front of her with her head tilted a little to the side. What Esileif doesn’t show is that the little girl inside her did flinch, which girl wouldn’t when being addressed in such way by her father? But even in front of Belgarath she keeps up the mask, the appearance of that what she wants to be. After all, this is the one she wants to prove her worth to, who’s approval she so desperately wants.
A small smile lingers on the corners of her lips and she nods her head slightly, although she cannot say that she isn’t somewhat disappointed by the fact that he so easily admits that he had left his duties to the herd just like that. ”That is what the rumours say” she replies. Both Magnus and Fennick’s words had suggested war, but it was also clear that the two parties would face each other in that war, instead of being side to side. Yet the two toned girl still had to decide which side to pick, all she knew that she had to pick the winning one, but who would that be.
Oh yes, his words do scare her, the little Esileif inside her is cowering already. Dragons are something entirely new to her and definitely something to be fearful off. She fights the urge to press herself closer towards Belgarath’s side and instead she lifts her head a little and make herself stand broad, forcing her smile to grow a little wider. ”It will be something special indeed, but I also see it as a perfect opportunity to gain something out of it all.”
Her teeth grit together, smile falling for a few seconds before the bay and faint orangey white girl forces the smile out again. She doesn’t like it at all that her father still treats her like a small child and even worse, the way he implies it makes Esileif feel like she disappointed him. ”That’s also way to say it. I was trying to figure out what my best option will be” she replies him, barely able to contain the hiss. But that would show her only as the little girl she deep down still is, and not who she wants to be. She’s torn. Torn in between crumbling until she’s nothing and also to fight to keep up the appearance. He so easily makes her feel this little, while all she wants is to show him how great she is and can be.
All of Belgarath’s formative years were spent in tutelage, under his warlord of a sire. The boys of a certain age lined up every morning, while the girls were left with the women and slaves - to do whatever it is that slaves and women do. His mother was part of his father’s harem, and since she wasn’t the first, or the most beautiful, or the smartest, or anything remarkable at all really, Belgarath had to fight to get himself noticed. You see, Esi’s daddy issues aren’t unique. Everyone with a king/politician/warlord worth their salt (or a manwhore - let’s be honest) probably went through the same type of thing. Females aren’t good for much except breeding and entertainment. The smart ones were taken to the Temple and became untouchable wise women, forever virginal and only powerful when consulted or something dire was imminent.
It’s really just the shittiest luck that Bel’s only offspring that are still around are girls.
The only way to get his approval would be to obtain more power than he, or best him in a fight.
Esi’s fighting an Everest of a battle, so don’t take it personally.
Her indecision is a given, but he will take time out of his very busy day of laziness to help her make a decision. That is what good fathers do, isn’t it? Perhaps he owes that to her mother. Perhaps not. She did disappear without a trace, even after he’d gone to all that work to procure a replacement child (that’s Esi). Ungrateful bitch. He humms in the back of his throat, letting it rumble and roll and grate against his vocal cords. Glacier blue eyes glance down at her, and he breathes out forcefully, letting a cloud of condensation loose.
“Lay it out for me. I don’t want you on the losing side.” And then he waits for her to explain it to him - the pros and cons and options at hand. And why she thinks what she thinks. In case he needs to correct her way of thinking.
Unlike some others she has always adored her father. Maybe she was only a girl, where sons were preferred, but at least she – and some of her half-sisters – were still around. Even her two full-brothers and her mother had left. And on top of that Esileif honestly cared for her father and she just wanted him to notice her, to have his approval. All her goals are fed and driven by that sole desire and were meant to hide her insecurities. In her view getting Belgarath’s approval would be thé way to prove the world – and mostly herself – that she was worth something and it would boost her ego enormously. But right now that wasn’t the case yet.
Esileif was happy to see him again and although she tries to show the gray male a sophisticated version of herself, she cannot stop the curling of her lips. The mask falters for a second as he offers her his help. He doesn’t make it sound like that, no instead he almost demands her to explain, but to the two toned girl it doesn’t matter. By appearing like this he showed that he cared for her and now he also vowed that Esileif had to be on the winning side. ”It’s the Gates and the Valley. I got an offer to join from Magnus for the Gates and Fennick from the Valley” she answers, pausing a short moment as her blue and brown eyes meet his icy ones.
”Both let some of the war rumours slip from their lips. Yet both seem almost sure that their side is the winning one. Where Magnus didn’t want to promise me that – something about it not being in his power to claim such a thing – Fennick did guarantee me that the Valley would be on the winning side. But then Gallows showed up..” she tells him, not holding anything back. This was her father, not just somebody else, and she owes him a honest reply as he showed interest in her little dilemma. ”She joked, yet I’m sure she also meant it, that Fennick wasn’t able to think ahead further than his next meal. So could he really guarantee me that the Valley would win?” She had asked herself the same question when she had been visiting the Valley and Gallows had joined her and Fennick. Yet she still hadn’t found an answer to that question.
For a moment the bay and faint orangey white girl stays quiet, looking at the big gray male in front of her. Her head tilts a little to the side, but she never looks away. But she parts her lips to speak again before Belgarath can voice out his thoughts. ”The Gates is beautiful though, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. But the Valley’s mountains remind me of home, they make me feel at home.. According to Magnus I should be able to achieve my goals wherever I might go, whichever kingdom I chose to join..” This time she stops talking, taking a deep breath, waiting for Belgarath to reply.
