"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
Depression was a poison he could not bite back. It was a fog that clouded his mind and clogged his throat. It was a knife to his throat that made him edgy; he felt it was he walked the borders of Tephra, potential ringing hollow in her borders. It left him feeling incompetent and disdainful of himself, criticism turning inward. They had worked so hard, so fast, to find this land—banding together to create an alliance of unlikely companions for the good of them all. And they had entrusted the land to him, the worst of them.
He had never been a good leader. He was a better soldier. He had a warmonger’s heart that he fought to suppress and a hunger for chaos he turned a blind eye toward. He had blood on his hands that he would never wipe clean and a laundry list of sins he was too ashamed to admit, even to himself. Perhaps that is why his dreams were plagued with memories of his shortcomings; perhaps that is why he found himself accompanied by the ghosts of his past—those he had let down, those he could not save.
Even Makai, young and vicious and scared, haunted him these days.
It was enough to drive him from Tephra from the day to the familiar embrace of the meadow. Enough to leave him restless and tense as he walked along the outskirts of the groups, his handsome face flayed open to show the discord and unquiet and turmoil. His pace was at once slow and then quick, Magnus breaking into a quickened trot every few steps, sun-bleached tail cracking harshly against his muscled haunches.
Snorting, he broke into a run, the wind slicing at him as he veered toward the trees, winding around them with a familiar step. The base of them was far apart, giving him ample room to whip his body through them. It was nothing like the challenge of running in the jungle, where vines and roots tangled beneath your hooves so that it was impossible to step without feeling dragged down. This, in contrast, was easy—almost deceptively so. It gave him a straight shot at times, enough room that he could gain real speed, muscles beginning to sting with exertion, sweat building up despite the cool bite to the air.
When he finally slowed, his nostrils were flaring and the whites of his eyes were showing, but he still found no comfort, nor peace. All he found was the echoing silence of the meadow to be deafening. He breathed heavily, gasping for air and did his best to ignore the sharp barbs as they dug into his chest.
Keogh has no sins to her name, except maybe the sin of not living up to her potential - whatever that may be.
She comes late to the aftermath of all that had befallen them before: a mountain thrust up, the very earth changed forever, and her ability to levitate is just not there. Keogh has reached for it - can still feel it deep inside her, like maybe her heart still floats separate from everything in her breast, but she cannot float above the earth like a flightless bird.
At first it had frightened her that she could not command her own muscles to move as they ought to, then she grew accustomed to the feel of the earth hardpacked and heavily traveled under her feet. Keogh was not surprised to stumble upon the realization that she did not miss this intrinsic part of her nature as much as she thought she would. (Her cells had taken on a little less magic and a little more normalcy and that alone, thrilled her!) She had never really forgotten how to just stand still in one place for moments on end, but she had always found herself inevitably levitating off the ground much to her chagrin. It was nearly uncontrollable and now, tamped tightly down inside of her like a dim ghost of herself, she felt a new kind of freedom that ran straight to her lovely little head.
Keogh bucked and galloped her way across the trails; her blood sang rife with freedom from the Mountain’s blessing for how could she look at it as anything but that? She had always thought her levitation a bane, if only because it happened and she could hardly will it not to. But now, she is just an ordinary mare like all the rest of them and she has never felt happier than in that moment in which she shuns her bloodright and gift, and takes a deep happy breath of air. She was just about to meander along, enjoying the meadow’s comforts when a stallion raced by, hellbent for leather and looking like the devil was after him. It struck her as odd but hey, they all have their own personal demons that they could not escape.
Keogh knew though, what it was like to run fast and far until your sides heaved and every gasping breath sucked into your lungs stung the hell out of them like a thousand angry bees. Now, she was curious as he stood there eyes wild and white, blowing out every hard breath from his run, and she looks him over with kind, concerned eyes. “Are you alright?” she asks him, unafraid of the wild look of him (or if anything, drawn in further by it).
ooc: you are so tempting with magnus offer again this season. if there's time, i might take you up on mag-baby with keogh here? or chinook as originally planned but chinook doesn't want to come out and play lol.
she has never felt more vibrant in her life. it was as if the land had called out to her, beckoned her here, and here she was. she could feel the hum in her veins, inviting her to run, to fly as she had never before. and it was almost painful to contain herself. she had wanted to throw her head to the wind, to let her feet carry her somewhere, anywhere. but she felt the eyes of others all around her and aletta couldn't quite let herself get that far. the fire filled her veins and made her legs itch to run, but she constrained herself to her quiet creek.
her spot is quiet, the tinkling of the running creek and the conversing of birds. she tries to hone in on these sounds, let them surround and envelop her, something to alleviate her desire to run. she closes her eyes and flares her nostrils, letting the sweet smell of green grass and damp earth in. and just when she thinks she can find that peace, her center, the cadence of hoofbeats goes by.
it is frantic and then stagnant and then frantic again. her eyes crack open to catch a quick glimpse of a figure. he is gone before she even has time to focus and comprehend what she was seeing. it was the invitation she needed to let her feet fly, to chase the sound wherever it was going. it hadn't been the gallop in an open space that she had craved, but his path forced her to think, to time, and to be aware of her feet, her body, her balance. she broke a few times, to swing more towards the meadow, to haphazardly jump a root, and then she allowed herself to surge, to extend a little more with each stride.
then there had been the meadow quiet again. the frenzied hoofbeats had stopped and aletta rocked herself back. there, a few strides ahead, stood the running figure and now another. she let out a long exhale and kept herself walking forward, her eyes resting on the figures. but it was his wild eyes she saw, his panting nostrils. his appearance was haunting and she had wanted to ask him if he was alright. but the question had been asked and aletta kept searching for words, for something to say. her eyes bright, she asks "what were you running from?"
aletta
the innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
She asked and he found that he could hardly bear to answer her. Was he? After everything that had happened to him in this lifetime and the last, would he ever be okay? He had seen his child lifeless on the ground next to him. He had seen despair in his kingdom mates as everything they knew was shook to the core. He had seen death and life stripped clean from the bone; he had seen confusion and anguish.
He took another hard breath, sweat lathering on him, and shook his head, laughing, although the sound was darker than he intended. “Is anyone?” was all he could manage to answer, voice rusty from the days of disuse and the dehydration that tangled everything together. He took another breath and did his best to clear his head. One day, he would be embarrassed of how easily it was for him to be stripped clean of all of his armor, to be so vulnerable in front of a mere stranger, but he did not have it in him to be that today.
Instead he just gave her a small, crooked smile, catching his breath so that it sounded more even and less like the rumbling of a train. It was then that he saw the other mare. He swung his gaze toward her, giving her the same smile, motioning her forward. “We all have our own demons,” he answered, although he was not sure that was entirely true. He had met plenty of souls who did not seem so burdened.
What a joy it must be to leave so unencumbered—so free.
“Who is to say I was not running toward something?” He preferred to think of it like that; it would be an easier pill to swallow if that was the truth. He could handle if this was all leading him toward something—if there was something at the end of the road, at the end of the fight. “My name is Magnus,” he finally offered; if they had to witness that truly spectacular show, they at least deserved that much from him.
aletta has never seen life being brought into the world nor has she seen someone leave it. she has never given someone her love and thus she has never been given a heart in return. she has never seen tragedy or devastation so her eyes are pure. her mind simply can't comprehend them. she hates to be thought of as a silly child, but what else is she? she is often quiet, almost brooding, as if searching for words and ways to give an illusion that she knows more than she does.
this is one of those times that she searches for words, that she lets herself drift into the background. magnus reminds her one who has been struck, still reeling from the whiplash. at his crooked smile, her eyes soften though she still remains reserved. she still hasn't found her words. she isn't sure that whatever she would say would offer him any kind of comfort or conciliation. but his smile broke her train of thought, and her eyes focus a little more and her ears are almost eagerly forward.
we all have our demons, he says and aletta feels herself slightly frowning. "why must we hold on to our demons if all they do is haunt us?" as soon as the words come out of her mouth, she feels exposed, as if she has has shown her bare bones. but in her mind, she pictures these things as malignant, something that constantly ebbs at the soul. how heavy it must be to keep that kind of company. she can't quite understand that some things are so dark, so heartwrenching that they etch themselves into ones very being.
she glances past magnus, towards the horizon. moving forward should always be a goal (atleast in her eyes), for staying stagnant gets you nowhere. but her eyes return to his, still intently studying and listening. "aletta." she says faintly, her eyes glancing between magnus and keogh.
aletta
the innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.
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