"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
Thoughts of Sylva had kept her busy of late, though it pains her to admit it. It seems like only moments ago she’d laughed at the thought of running a kingdom, and yet she is well into her second year as a monarch. Djinni is the very picture of reluctant status.
She has never wanted status, not when she already has power.
Even with the acknowledgement of that uncomfortable truth, Djinni still enjoys talking about the land of Sylva. The blazing forest has begun to set its roots in her heart. “Sylva is mostly forest, full of very old trees that stay covered in the colors of autumn year round.” Their winters and summers are mild; there are no environmental dangers in the burning woods. “There aren’t many residents; just enough to keep us a kingdom.” She smiles at that, picturing the residents.
Her expression fades a little as her companion tosses his head and even more so when the sad little smile on his mouth appears. Djinni almost says something, but just before she opens her mouth, he speaks again. With a puff of golden sand that is barely there before it is gone again, Djinni is a little older than she had seemed – a mare in her prime rather than one just cresting adulthood. Her eyes remain a soft sea green as she says: “This is me.”
“And what is Tephra like?” She asks in reply to his earlier admission. For a moment it seems she will leave it there, keep their conversation casual. Then she asks: “Unless you’d rather talk about your home?”
He’s here in the forest, comfortable and somewhat relaxed as he stood with her. She describes her home, and his mind’s eye paints a wonderful picture for him. He imagines himself standing at the center of the Sylva, shrouded and covered by the trees. They were not just any trees, though – these trees were stretching to the heavens, nearly scraping the stars from the sky; these were trees that grew with so much power that you could practically hear them growing as they expand upwards and onwards, their colors of fiery orange-red filling a never-ending sky.
He opens his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. His soft, auburn lids reveal the gaze of brilliant blue. “It sounds wonderful.” Suddenly, though not as shocking as before (meaning that Warrick didn’t jump in surprise this time), a cloud of gold touches the air – shimmering faintly and then disappearing. He notices the small differences of who was now standing before him, but he smiles comfortingly. It was still Djinni. He wonders now if she were to change her appearance and run into him at a later time if he would recognize her somehow. He liked to think that he would.
She asks about Tephra and he smiles thoughtfully. He knows that she probably already knows about the land, but he knows she might have not seen it from his point of view – the volcano alive and breathing, the heart of the land pulsating through every rock and tree, groaning as it quakes and exhales smoke and ash. But soon he found that the smile that had found his indigo lips falters somewhat, his brilliant blue eyes dimming. Immediately, his heartbeat quickens in a way that made his chest ache stubbornly and he wonders if she can hear it thrum madly against his ribcage.
Their afternoon conversation was slowly turning into night, the sun now nearing the horizon. He sighs quietly, pressing his lips firmly together in thought. “I – my family – well, we aren’t from this world.” He shuffles his hooves uncertainly, his eyes bouncing from Djinni’s soft green to the blazing orange of the setting sun. “My ancestors lived in the stars.” Warrick swallows hard, hoping that she wouldn’t be offended that his sentences were less than informative and seem strangulated. He felt like his voice was wavering and unsure. “At least that’s what my mom told me,” he adds with a short chuckle that only lasts momentarily, “she found her way back there, though.”
He stops. His eyes lift upwards as the sun moves more than halfway below the horizon, the orange and pinks of sunset colliding with the cool blue of the night sky that had began to enter. His face twists, brow furrowing uncertainly as he stares up at the North Star that pricked its way first into the sky. He’s lost in the stars now, like he spent most every night, searching the skies with longing eyes as if merely wishing would bring his mother and sister back to him.
“You miss her,” she says. It should be a question – she can’t read his mind – but it is a declaration. It does not explain everything (nothing ever can), but it feels as though she has finally found a large piece of puzzle she hadn’t even known she was solving.
“I miss my parents too, though they’re not so far away as the stars.” It might seem as though she adds this to show she empathizes with him, but it’s really only because she is thinking of them, and of her siblings, and how it has been more than a decade since she has seen them. She empathizes too, of course, but that she is less comfortable with, so she doesn’t accompany her words with a friendly touch to the shoulder or a hollow but comforting smile: she only looks out at the trees.
“Have you ever been there?” Djinni asks when her gaze makes its way back to his, “To the stars, I mean.”
He feels slight relief when he’s speaking to Djinni. It’s not a kind of relief that one would hope for in a situation like this (true relief would be the return of his family, of course) but for the first time since their disappearance, the ache didn’t feel as sharp. Warrick continues to watch the skies, much like how she kept her eyes on the trees that stretch ghoulishly upwards, the darkness slowly creeping in on them.
The freshness of dusk begins to press against his flesh, the warmth of the sun diminishing and replacing itself with the cool tendrils of night. It was a familiar feeling as the darkness slowly sweeps over him, bathing his mahogany and navy body a shade darker. He skin twitches subconsciously, though he is not sure if it is the sharp air of night that causes it. The enormous trees of the forest also make it seem a bit more foreboding as the sun sinks lower beyond the horizon, its orange fingertips reaching out for grip and finding none as it sinks below their eyesight.
The two stand here quietly in the stillness of a receding sunset, eyes elsewhere and thoughts masked.
He doesn’t respond to her statement, which was what it was. It was obvious that the chasm that was left behind by his mother (and twin) was one that could possibly never be filled. He would most likely experience a longing that could never be quenched. Warrick was slowly coming to terms with this, though he hadn’t entirely realized it just yet.
Warrick sighs, his blue eyes dark and brooding as he watches the skies, flicking back and forth as stars randomly appear – noting each one thoughtfully. Djinni does not dismiss his family history and for that he is slightly more relaxed in responding to her quiet questioning. “I haven’t,” he murmurs sorrowfully, eyes still searching the star-soaked sky above him attentively. “I think I could get there, maybe. I have the will, but lack the power to do so.”
Or maybe I lack whatever it is the galaxies saw in mother and Beyah.
He snorts softly, thrusting his head upwards a bit in a slight toss to rid the thought. He accompanies this with a stamp of a single hoof against the damp earth beneath him. With eyes still wandering the skies haphazardly he calmly asks her, “Have you always lived in Beqanna?” For a moment his eyes break away from his gazing to quietly survey her, noting the golden bangles that shine brilliantly in the silver of starlight above them. “What do they mean?” he asks, meaning the golden hoops that gingerly lay on her ears and ankles. The question is said before he has time to stop himself and for a moment he is slightly embarrassed, but the curiosity still lingers in his bright blue eyes. “I mean, are they from your family?”
