"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
He isn't a saint but he is a a king and, he can't get past the distraught that was brought to his kingdom with his ascension to the throne. Nor the comments that were made by the residents. What did he expect? For them to welcome him with open arms? Of course he would think there would be some form of protest but, means of rejection of disrespect were both what he wasn't expecting. Especially when Felinae questioned his ability to dedicate himself to a kingdom, even though he knew rather well that she didn't mean it intentionally. She just wanted to make he was alright, he would the same too if she were in his position. Lastly he could shake off what Ellyse had to say, the loathing within her voice, the ruthlessness that she expressed. At least Magnus promised to continue to serve Heavens but Zeik couldn't hold the thought of disloyalty within his midsts. After many days of pondering he decided sacrifices would have to be made in order for Heavens succeed.
At the break of dawn he transforms into his falcon form, wings spread as he takes a running leap gliding off the ground and flapping his wide wingspan. His feathers break through the wind effortlessly as his lean body rises in height. His limbs keep him aloft as he allows a sharp shriek to release from his beak, "Ellyse, Heavens Gates is no longer your sanctuary. You are exiled from her lands." He states shifting into his equine form, wings and talons to hooves and beak to muzzle. It was for the best that Ellyse parted, for his well being and his kingdoms. he couldn't take a hint of disloyalty in his reign that could possibly bring him down. He didn't seek power when he took the throne but he did wish to succeed as king and not to fail his own kingdom.
I Will Raise Hell
I feel so horrible for exiling her! But I think it had to be done please forgive me! You don't need to reply.... Just wanted to get it out there.
i swallow my doubt, turn it inside out - find nothing but faith in nothing.
The sun breaks free over the sky, but her once weary eyes had been open for some time - the gentle stirring of color in the otherwise dark blanket of stars pulls at the awakening horizon. Lazily, she watches as the soft pastels of periwinkle and tangerine paint its canvas, the sun gently peeking up over the plain, shedding light as far as the eye can see. Her limbs are stiff, and eventually she pulls herself away from the comfort of the shadows, flexing her tired muscles as she sinks into the warmth of morning light. Her jaw unhinges slightly - or at least it seems to - as a broad yawn emerges, her lungs stretching in their own way.
She spreads the breadth of her own wingspan, bending and twisting the delicate bone within as her blunt teeth gently tug and preen at the bright feathers that bristle within the light breeze that has begun to sweep through the valley, rustling the drying stalks of wheat as autumn moves in, heavy as sin. An uneasiness pulls at the fibers within her being, and slowly it begins to crawl across her caramel skin, leaving her wary and agitated. Something is watching, and a growl of frustration rattles within her throat.
Her hazel eyes peer towards the sky, cheek tilted to the left as she watches the dark falcon sweep its broad wingspan over the sky, dawn illuminating its outline and her brow furrows - her King. A title and nothing more, for he had done nothing but try to burden the weight of his own impending failure upon the shoulders of others, with little investment on his own behalf. Nothing had changed in the days preceding his ascension, though unrest had settled within her bones not long after listening to his self-important spiel.
With an awkward transformation, he somehow manages to shift mid-air from a sleek, graceful falcon into his equine form, with little transition in between - she cannot hide the wry smile that tugs at the corner of her whiskered lips as he stumbles across the ground. After all, shape-shifting takes time - it is no sudden change, manipulating feathers into hair and pliable, hollow bones into solid ones, but somehow he has managed - albeit clumsily. With a hesitant step back, the full expanse of her own broad, thick wings take to each side, doubling to each side as her eyes watch him warily.
The words that draw from his vile lips evoke a deep, humorless laugh from the depths of her lungs, incredulous and yet - in a way, all too delighted.
"So the coward King of such good word and virtue has chosen to make a stand? No tantrum of yours will convince any that you are worthy of the throne, Zeik," She muses, her long legs pushing forward as she circles him, a darkness reaching the depths of her eyes as she imagines pulling a femur from its socket or perhaps twisting a few ribs out of place - a simmering fury bubbles within, but she withholds her anger .. for now. "you are nothing and will be nothing until you become humble - without that, without others, you are nothing. You have done me a favor. I do not wish to see you fall face first into the mud."
And with that, her slender neck cranes to the right, and she pushes herself to a full gait, spreading the length of her wings as she glides into the morning sky with heavy wingbeats, her champagne form disappearing into the bright light of the sun.
Ellyse
Surely you didn't think I wouldn't reply! Too fun. :)
we carry these things inside that no one else can see they hold us down like anchors; they drown us out at sea
The last few days had been an exercise in memory. Demons he had long since thought that he had cast out rose in him like a phoenix, unfurling their wings to take up space in his chest cavity, digging their teeth into his heart to claim it as their own. Misunderstanding and frustration bled away and left room for pure fury, the emotion white hot as it pierced through his tongue. He did not venture to the field as often as he usually did. He did not spend time mingling amongst the other members of the kingdom.
Instead, he brooded. He raged. He simmered.
He fought against chains he had long ago placed upon himself, reminders to abide by good behavior.
Reminders to do right by Joelle’s kingdom.
Reminders. Chains. Prison.
So it is, perhaps, no surprise that he flinches when he hears Zeik call for Ellyse, the golden mare with whom he had passed the hours. His gold-flecked eyes burn hot as he turns his head toward the source of the noise, gathers himself, and lunges forward. His leggy gait eats up the short distance between him and the duo, and he is glad for the hours and hours of running. It means that he does not miss this exchange.
“ZEIK!” he bellows, his voice violent and harsh. His tail flicks violently against his haunches, the stinging sensation a relief from the emotions that course unchecked through his veins. “So, the Gates is a sanctuary…except for those who differ from your stance. Except for those who oppose.” His eyes flash.
“That is not a sanctuary. That is a dictatorship.”
He takes a challenging step forward, swallowing hard. In this moment, he is not the soft-tongued stallion who had loved Joelle and Minette. He is not the stoic stallion who stood upon the border when the sun rose and fell. He is not the charming stallion who walked amongst the arrivals in the field. In this moment, he is the dark son of Atrox and Twinge. He is the soldier who had bloodied his sword before. He is the man who had risen up against Kings and rallied against dynasties and fought the heavens.
In this moment, he is dangerous.
“I cannot, I will not stand for this.” He does not know if others have gathered and part of him regrets that they may seem him like this, but the words flow hot and fast, tripping off his tongue. “I said I will serve the Gates, but this is not her true nature. She does not exile. She does not claim power.” Another step. “I will not let you build her up in the making of your vision on the strength of my back. I will not let you use my blood, my sweat, my effort to run her into the ground.” He takes a second to gather himself, before he shakes his head. “Exile me too, for I am done. I will not ignore my better judgment and stay silent.”
There is a moment of silence, the wind gently whipping his mane against his neck, his gaze never leaving that of the falcon-stallion’s. Then he snorts, turns on his heel, and leaves Heaven.
Normally Sahm would not have heard all of the commotion. He had taken to the darkness ever since the meeting- only to leave it when a friendly new face or Magnus appeared. The tobiano stallion had found respect and solace in Magnus. In fact Sahm had secretly pledged himself to the older male. Eventually Sahm hoped to help Magnus ascend to the thrown, and dethrone Zeik to his rightful place. Unfortunately fate had another plan in mind.
Sahm kept tabs on Magnus. To most it may have come off as stalkerish, but to Sahm it seemed necessary. On this particular day Sahm was basking in the rising sun. His eyes were closed as he took deep breaths in meditation. Suddenly an image appeared in his mind, and like a movie the anger Magnus spat at Zeik played before him. Sahm watched with growing frustration. Magnus was right in all he said. No sanctuary exiled for disagreements.
With his eyes held closed Sahm focused on the location the ruckus took place. By the time Sahm appeared all that was left was Zeik. ”What have you done!?” Sahm erupted. ”Not even my father would hold me to protecting this place after you have defiled it” Sahm could feel an unfamiliar rage boil within him. As opposed to accidentally attacking Zeik with his uncontrollable magic Sahm decided leaving was best. ”Good luck being king of dust” He turned and ran- he ran to his lover in tears.
sahm the inexperienced, quiet magician of the gates
![[Image: gqYjsHr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/KjqNDKxc/gqYjsHr.png)
