"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 CAN STAND ME UP AT THE GATES OF HELL, BUT I WON'T BACK DOWN.
A weariness settles into his bones, and an unsettling uneasiness stirs the pit of his belly - the ground has long since ceased to move beneath him, and yet he cannot shake the rippling waves that settle through him with each heavy step. The sun had risen into the darkened sky, illuminating it with its light and warmth, and yet its arrival gave his wary heart no comfort. Something had stirred deep within him, an innate instinct that not all was right - and then, the permafrost began to shift, and the aged pines began to rattle with vibrations that came from deep within the earth. Something urged him to get up, to leave, to flee - but he could not do so alone.
After waking his precious Isle, with her soulful eyes and a final, gentle touch to her cheek, he had fled across the uneasy ground with a loud bellow, calling all to rise with the glistening light of the sun - until suddenly, it was no more. With his blood flooding his veins with a ferocity all its own and his mind shaken, he found himself rooted elsewhere by some unseen force. The gentle caress of long-stemmed grasses brush across his marred flesh, and its soothing breeze causes his skin to bristle and flinch from the way that it seemingly attempts to console his aching head and furious heart.
His dark eyes peer up towards the boorish mountain that has somehow appeared from thin air, and rage stirs within him. Though he aches and longs to find those he cherishes, something draws him towards it, pulls him as if woven together by the most trying of threads. There are many faces littered across the sun-drenched meadow as the light of day begins to wane, bewilderment and anxiety stirring as worried voices rise with a rattling buzz - but he cannot rooted to delve into its complexity now.
He cannot see the familiar, gentle eyes of his sweet Isle, nor hear the bleating worry of his children, and so he departs. He cannot wait any longer - answers were what he craved. With heavy, churning movements, he rises along the unbeaten path, pushing himself forward as the warmth of day gives way to the gentle caress of an evening breeze, but still a sheen of sweat washes over his behemoth form.
At last, with fiery eyes and glistening sweat beading off of him, he emerges over the crest, his darkened gaze observing the beautiful but trifling land before him. The air is thin, causing his lungs to sting, but still - with his broad jaw parted and chin tilted to the glittering sky above, he bellows with a tremendous echo that shatters cross the land.
Something familiar stirs with in him - the fire, the burning embers of his pyrokinesis - and it is then that he realizes with a heavy wave of dread and disdain that it had been absent mere minutes ago.
OFFSPRING
Offspring will take immortality for his "freebie trait".
This is terrible. :/ Sorry. D:
Once Newton was willing and able he stood. Sahm supported him in each motion. He nudged Newton’s hooves as they uneasily placed themselves on shaking ground. He lifted Newton’s chin once his love was standing. Sahm held his muzzle beneath Newton’s for a steady moment. They both closed their eyes in unison. Peace. It was a moment of peace. Newton felt unstable on the mountain. It was not familiar- he hated change. Sahm shifted his nose and sent Newton a worrisome look. ”It is okay, my love, you are with me.” Sahm said reassuringly. As long as they were together everything would be right.
Sahm took the lead as Newton leaned into him for shallow support. Newton felt broken and only Sahm could manage to piece him back together. Sahm held his head high as he looked through the crowd for some type of familiarity. A black form, perched on the mountain, came into view. Immediately the sabino stallion knew who it was, and he turned his face toward his lovers. ”It is Offspring!” Sahm exclaimed. The name lightened Newton’s spirit and he straightened his posture. They didn’t rush to their late kings side due to Newton’s weakness, but they did make their way to him with purpose.
”Offspring!” Sahm shouted with a dip of his head once they were within speaking distance. Newton looked upward and allowed a small smile to crease his lips. Sahm checked on Newton with a swift glance and a kiss to his cheek. ”Are you hurt? Are you okay?” Sahm asked once he returned his attention back to the black stallion.
YOU CAN STAND ME UP AT THE GATES OF HELL, BUT I WON'T BACK DOWN.
His breath is not bated for long, and his weary eyes searching the seemingly endless, sloping hillsides - but his heart soon eases and soothes a beat or two as not one, but two familiar faces draw nearer to him, their eyes filled with as much wary relief as his own. The faintest of smiles tugs slightly at the corners of his whiskered lips, but soon a glint of concern reaches the depths of his eyes and the momentary glimpse of mirth falls away as the weakness pulling at the very seams holding Newton together becomes evident. Gently, he lowers the girth of his neck, thoughtful eyes taking in each part of him for a sign of injury - but a pang of helplessness causes his heart to ache, and the fire in his eyes soon falters, giving way to worry.
"Sahm, Newton, I am relieved to see you both - and well; or as well as can be. I am fine. A little uneasy," He murmurs softly, his voice trailing off as his dark eyes of crimson and brimstone look beyond each of them, aching to see the familiar form of his beloved somewhere over the horizon. His heart clenches within his chest, but he swallows the bile that seemingly threatens to rise - there are so many he has yet to see, so many he had yet to find. He worried for each and every one, and a sense of failure was slowly beginning to gnaw away at his soul. He had sworn to serve, to protect - he had failed to. With a gentle shake of his massive skull, he pushes the thought away. It was too heavy, too burdening to linger on. "and hoping to find the others. Hoping that all are well and safe. It is all that we can hope for."
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING OF MOVING ON
There are others (of course there are) that ripple with change, their minds and souls being stripped of all they’ve known. Tiphon was aware; a tingling had creeped up his back before the world began to shift and roar. The mountains and valleys, rivers and deserts, had all disintegrated then rose from the ashes. Beqanna was being rebuilt, and Tiphon had lied there in awe as he watched the debris finally settle. Their world, the one they’ve only ever known, was reborn and it was nothing recognizable. He had hoped it was a dream and blinked away the haziness of his sleep, but nothing shifted.
The magic pooled in that mountain and it was trapped; he can sense it as he stands close to the border. It’s humming to him, crooning for him to step foot in its midst, but Tiphon hesitates. It’s as though his heart was been clawed from his chest and the blood in his body drained; he isn’t himself like this. And these wings – these God awful things – open and close questioningly as he looks over his shoulder at them. They aren’t great or resembling of himself; they are small and he questions their power, but he says nothing. The magic of their home is angry, stripping them all of what they know. A pang of worry hits him and deters him from complaining aloud in case more would be taken.
There are horses clambering up the mountainside, their shadowed figures traipsing the rocks and uneven footing. From afar Tiphon watches until his heart lurches forward and he follows in pursuit.
It’s like a veil falling across him when the magic returns. What normalcy had stricken him suddenly dissipates and his own powers immediately flood into his veins. The feeble replacement wings fall to the ground in a pile of feathers to be replaced by his own magnificent wingspan. They unfurl as though trying to reach the winter sun above before coiling back to his sides.
How funny this new world is.
He materializes in front of the first one he sees, the first one that can also feel the surge of power in his core, but he is joined by two other males. ”We’ve really pissed someone off,” his voice is weighed by concern but somehow, despite their world flipping on itself, there is humor subtly twisted into what he says. ”What will the Tundra do?” When he draws in a breath he can smell the permafrost, but he can also sense the Dale on his own skin. His eyes are searching before they drift to the ridge below them, contemplating what is next to happen to him, to them all. ”I’m Tiphon,” he finally adds as an afterthought before finding the ex-King’s eyes again knowing well that magic and ranks mean nothing now.
Newton was too consumed in his own misery to note Offspring’s pain. Sahm on the other hand studied his kings tense face, and he knew that something was missing. Many of the horses had lost their loved one amongst the chaos, and few knew if the sudden terra change meant loss of life. The two simply stood with Newton coated in Sahm’s strength. Another stallion came upon them, one that Newton had heard of during his time at the dale. It was true that everyone was equal now that there were no lands, only families. The Tundra was a family. All of Sahm and Newton’s family needed to be reclaimed.
”We are glad to see you’re alright.” Sahm said with a hollow smile. He then looked to Tiphon. ”I am Sahm and this is my mate, Newton.” Sahm merely dipped his nose a bit to point at the wallowing soul encased in him. ”Offspring, we do need to find the others…I wont give up on my new family that I just joined.” Sahm spoke once more.
”Meadow” Newton simply whispered, his voice raspy with mountain soot. Sahm pushed his body away from Newton for a moment to look at him straight in the eye. Newton turned his head and nodded in the direction of a meadow beneath the mountain. The common ground had survived and already horses were traveling to its grass. ”It must be where everyone is going.”
YOU CAN STAND ME UP AT THE GATES OF HELL, BUT I WON'T BACK DOWN.
The frigidity of the gentle, sweeping breeze presses against his taut, shining skin - the bright, unfiltered sunlight places a burden onto his shoulders that he cannot merely shrug off. Beneath it, he feels like a beacon; stark in contrast to the obscenely serene landscape that lay before him and it leaves him with a festering wave of discomfort. Tension builds just below the surface of his solemn expression, his jaw growing tight as he clenches in - anxiety gently plagues him, and though stoicism is something he has long since mastered externally, his heart aches for the answers that he knows will not come if he is to remain in a single spot.
His brief reverie is broken, and his dark eyes meet with something unfamiliar - a blinding light radiating around a broad body of sinewy muscle and brawn, and he very nearly has to look away from the purity of the light surrounding him. After a moment of adjustment, his brow furrows as his dark eyes of fire and brimstone focus on the pristine gilded, angelic form before him. A svelte voice rises, laced with a dark humor of its own, and though he is still wholly uncertain, his nerves begin to ease, if only slightly.
"I daresay that may be an understatement, Tiphon," He utters gruffly, his voice still raw from disuse and rough from the fatigue that pulls at him like the gentle ebb and flow of a rising tide. "Offspring, though you seem to already know. The Tundra is no more - though I will stand by those I have served, and I seek to find them again, as I imagine you intend to do with your own kin." He murmurs, his gaze intently meeting with the angel's before him - those who served below him were his family. His everything.
The crown meant nothing and little; it was the emotional and blood bond that meant the most.
He draws his attention away from him at last, meeting with the magician and his weakened lover who leans against him feebly for support. A flicker of concern stirs within his eye, but with a solemn nod (his sight momentarily obscured by the fall of his forelock across his dark, dangerous gaze), he gestures with his broad jaw towards the edge of the mountain. "You are right, Sahm - we have many more to find. Take Newton and begin moving to lower ground. I will follow shortly."
Something tugs at his instinct as he moves a single, swiveling eye to the angelic being once more - there is something more to be said. Something left unsaid.
The stress of the awakening was still upon them. They were relieved to see that most of the horses around them appeared unscathed physically. Emotionally was a different matter. Newton watched, as horses seemed to march to lower ground. It was on the mountain that he still felt magic coursing through his body, but he also felt a distinct desire to leave. The mountain was not a home to any horse. Sahm could feel the same inkling to leave. He looked toward Newton, and Newton returning his glance, knowingly. They were on the same page. Though Newton was still in anguish, he knew that he needed to grow stronger. Sahm could only provide Newton with so much strength before they both would break.
Offspring addressed Sahm and quickly suggested an action for them to take. It was a reasonable and sound decision. Sahm nodded. ”Sounds good.”
Newton nodded as well in agreement. ”Stay safe, we’ll be looking for you down there.” He said before the two stallions turned and left.
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING OF MOVING ON
Tiphon looks back across his shoulder toward the descent of mountain where it flattens into the meadow. He can see figures running in fright, in confusion, and his mouth purses into a thin line. To be down there is to be normal, but here, on the Mountain he is whole. While most have lost just a piece of themselves, Tiphon has lost everything. His entire being, even his birth, was magic. Without it his body is drained and lingering on relentless exhaustion. Nothing seemed right or felt right when he was down there, but it’s where his family is and where he has so far been able to muster some of their numbers. He cringes at the prospect of returning to a world he is weak in.
He knows it’s coming, however, because he will always be there for his family and strives to protect them to his ability. He won’t abandon them no matter how much life is purged the instant he steps away from this mountain peak. Offspring, it seems, knows well what they are enduring and facing.
When their eyes meet Tiphon nods his head slowly, ”All we can do is find our family and survive,” he murmurs quietly as his mind roams the meadow with his fellow Daleans, ”but although there is new land, it seems smaller.” A part of him is reaching across their undiscovered world and it feels less open, more constricting. ”I think we are all going to find ourselves in much closer quarters than what we are used to,” allies will merge together and enemies will be only a hairsbreadth away from one another. ”I have a question,” he looks at Offspring as the two other stallions bid their farewells and depart down the winding path toward the meadow, ”what happened in the Tundra? I had heart of an invasion in the Desert and then wherever I went there were tensions thinking that a Dalean aided the Tundra in a raid.” His voice has lost its amusement; his entire body is rigid, his eyes piercing. ”The Tundra and Dale have been friends. Has something happened to destroy that?” He reflects on his visit to the Falls and the shifting eyes of the Amazons when they knew where he traveled from.
”Why try to take over another kingdom, Offspring?” The rumors need settling and Tiphon’s mind is reeling, wanting to know what had elapsed when he had left his son’s side, what horror may have led to this.
