"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
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
Curled lazily beneath the ashen boughs of his naked wisteria tree, Amet's golden eyes flutter slowly open, reluctant for his midday nap to come to an end. It had been months since the Akhal-Teke stallion had been able to afford such a luxury, between diplomatic and not-so-diplomatic visits. He sighs contentedly as he gazes over the quiet lake, appreciative of Hyaline's warm climate despite the winter months.
Amet sinks further into his repose, opting to remain upon the grassy knoll for a while longer now that he knows Ciri is safe and making a good recovery. Rumor of Taiga's deluge had reached the Dragon King, but so had the rumor that the former ruler, the white ghost with red eyes, was making himself comfortable in the common lands until he was able to reconvene his congregation. The young stallion holds no concern that his home will be the target for the wraith, Gryffen, who seemed to lean towards homes that appeared much more nefarious than his own crystalline lakeside.
Sighing comfortably, the gilded stallion lifts his narrow head and serpentines his neck around to preen the layered scales at his side and belly, lost in thought and in his mundane task, thoroughly enjoying the fact that he has nowhere to be, at least for today.
-Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me-
She’d been given a breath of time to collect herself and her family - only a breath - before necessity demanded that she rip that time once more. It was for the good of her people that she was leaving the comfort of her gold and ruby lifesblood, or at least that was what she told herself. The good of her people and the safety of her own sons, perhaps even the future safety of another child yet to come … but that unspoken wish was still tucked close to her heart, tethered somewhere in the dark recesses of her gut where she, as of this moment, still couldn't be quite sure that life had sprung from the reunion Canaan had showered her with.
Circinae can only squeeze her lids together with hope and mouth a silent prayer for luck that her questions might be answered soon. Time, the ultimate ruler of her life, could only tell. When she blinks softly into reality once more, dawn is beginning to peek over the tumultuous crown of black trees and the twisting River is curving away from her, throwing only the mock of her reflection back when she peers down. She smiles.
The loop of her teleporting gate opens up hungrily for her. They’ve grown so attached to one another, Circi and her gift, that she almost is beginning to feel a sort of attachment to the singular power. What had begun as an intense fear (she still remembers the sickness from vertigo when tripping between doors) had now transformed into gaiety each time she summoned the portal, like mortal enemies ironically stumbling into love. The one she calls on now distorts her face, pulls it apart and rends the rest of her mirror body with it until another terrain can be seen. She steps confidently through.
Imagine someone holding a hula-hoop while a second party maneuvers through the center and this is how close you come to her ability, in laymen terms. When her hoof touches earth she can tell that it’s silt: a fine mixture of sand, clay, and debris. Hyaline’s lakebed grips each step she takes towards the shore while her gate closes softly around her, soaking chest and rib alike as she trudges up the sloping incline. Finally, dragging her hind end free with a satisfying plop the little pony mare comes to stand with an impressive view of the crystalline water while she gathers her breath and wits.
The call she sends is lilting and airy - the horse it comes from is anything but.
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
Despite his best attempts to keep thoughts of politics from drifting through his head, the Dragon King always goes back to them; Offspring and Tephra, Nayl and Nerine, the uneasy alliance he'd made with Loess. Amet sighs quietly as he continues to preen his golden scales with blunt teeth, the motion methodical and mundane as he mulls over his recent excursions. His time spent in Tephra had proven to be beneficial and had put his mind at ease, especially with what was being to feel like impending doom in regards to Nayl.
When he's grown tired of politics once more, Ciri is next on his mind. The starry-eyed maiden has finally begun to heal, thanks to the red wytch that had come to them in the night. He still wonders how she had known to come to Hyaline exactly when Ciri had needed a medicine woman the most, but Amet has come to terms with the fact that he will probably never know. Some things are just meant to be.
Soon, when Ciri is well, he intends on taking the soothsayer up on her offer and searching for the companions she'd spoken of. The Dragon King wasn't about to ignore her advice after she had potentially saved the life his smoky black friend, and it is his intention to bring Ciri on the trip, as well. There's something endearing about the way she refuses to be doted upon and Amet's lips draw into a small, involuntary smile at the thought.
There's movement in front of him suddenly -- a disturbance in the lake's crystal clear surface that promptly catches his full attention. Amet is swift to his hooves; his ears are pressed forward attentively, more intrigued than alarmed. The disturbance produces a mare (a sopping wet one, at that) with a pleasant smile across her face. Cocking his narrow head to the side, the gilded King greets the verdant creature with an amused smile.
"Will I ever see it all?" he muses aloud at the fantastical trait she'd displayed. Beqanna never ceases to amaze the young stallion, nor just he think it ever will. He regards her silently for just a moment, amber eyes drinking in the sight of his newest acquaintance. "You are the Wolf of the Water, aren't you?" the King questions softly.
-Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me-
It’s a godsend when circumstances align themselves with personal interests. Circinae, turning abruptly to face the pleasant rumble of Amet’s greeting, finds that two things immediately strike her in the moment: One is Amet’s appearance. Gilded scales overlap each other to cover every inch of what should be fur, and it gives him a hardened, reptilian mien that would normally be off-putting were it not for the smile brightening an otherwise open, calm face. Opposing elements (the hardness and softness to him) oftentimes find harmony when brought together and Amet, though she does not know him personally yet, balances them both well.
The second thing to strike her is his knowledge of her pet name. “I see you’ve met my lightning girl.” She chuckles with sudden ease. The action softens her earlier startle, soothes out the mistrusting glint to her baby blue eyes and has her shifting to settle into a more permanent, comfortable position. “In regular company I go by Circinae.” The pony-mare explains lightly, though her curiosity perks with the mention of the red wytch. “Has Jah-Lilah been here recently?” She asks, unable to keep her gaze from darting around him while he speaks; to the wall of mountains and beyond Hyaline steals her breath and attention. Perhaps Jah was out there still …
“Sorry.” She blurts once she realizes that her actions might have been too evident. It was her last wish to have the stallion feeling ignored, or as if Circinae meant to brush him off. “I owe you a short explanation - especially since I seem to have brought myself well within your borders. I’m searching for a stallion called Amet, he rules here? If you know him, perhaps you could take me to him?” The woman explains with a flurry of words. There’s an urgency about her air, something pressing that seems to leave her restless even as she stands stock still. Patience, of course, has never been her strong suit but diplomacy comes as naturally as living, so the agitated shifter inhales slowly and tries (without much success) to suppress a grin.
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
The interloper's green coat and purple tresses are a flattering combination, but the true beauty he sees is the warmth upon her face when he alludes to her nickname. The Wolf of the Water's chuckle is a mixture of surprise and contentment; Amet nods in affirmation of the mare's inquiry as he returns her warm expression, "I have. She saved my friend's life," he offers to the moss-colored mare readily (Circinae, she introduces herself), intrigued whether or not this information will surprise her, though he's betting it will not. The red wytch had been at ease, her demeanor soothing in a way that only came with experience, despite the circumstances.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Circinae," Amet says politely as her blue eyes move to look beyond him to survey their surroundings. He takes no offense to the lull in their conversation; Hyaline still catches him off guard on a regular basis. "Jah-Lilah?" his narrow head tilts to the side briefly before a smile surfaces once more, "The soothsayer. I never did get her name, though she was busy mixing herbs to help Ciri with her injuries from the Underneath while she was here," Amet trails off as Circinae blurts her apology; he brushes it off with a playful snort and his ears twitch as she offers her explanation for appearing in the dead center of his home.
"You're in luck," the Dragon King moves a step closer to her, intrigued by the urgency in her voice, "I am Amet. Welcome to Hyaline." He shifts his narrow Akhal-Teke frame, regarding the water-traveler warmly. "Jah-Lilah tasked me with finding you after Ciri was well, but it seems you have beat me to the punch."
-Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me-
“We’re a rather busy group, my family and I.” The Shifter concludes once Amet has spoken his peace. Between everything that had occurred since Taiga’s downfall and now, Circinae might even be inclined to add, almost too busy to her statement. But she doesn’t. Instead, what she does say is, “However, we seem to be in the right places at exactly the right time.”
And that is the truest statement she could have uttered.
“King Amet,” She begins again, now that proper name has come to settle on his shoulders. “Since I dragged my eldest son through a tidal wave and watched Jah-Lilah nearly die, I’ve thought of nothing besides how I could prevent that from happening again.” The mare relates. The memories came unbidden - earth broken by the hands of a God, demons loosed upon her own kind, Corvus in the moment before she transported him - they assault her without leniency, give every soft corner a new shadow along her face where the maturity of her seven years is beginning to show. “I have seen things, living here - in Beqanna, that would drive a mother to consider killing her own child, if only to keep him from living in a world so horribly twisted.”
“And yet,” She smiles, none too eager to avoid that crippling darkness which seemed to haunt her on colder, lonelier nights, “here I stand; more than likely pregnant myself with a family and few stragglers who look to me for guidance.” She ends, incredulous that her journey had led her here, with so many to fill a life once devoid of connection. “I’m sure you know plenty about that yourself, though, your grace.” The little mare laughs, remembering all too well how the title had irked Gryffen. With Amet, the tone is less scathing and even bordering reverent respect. “If the shoe fits …” She ponders.
The tenor of Hyaline’s lapping shore soothes her; Circinae has never been so close to the water aside from her hidden den in Taiga and even then, the briny sea was never a favorite gateway. Accompanied by the late winter songs of birds scattered through the picturesque landscape, Hyaline is making quite the impression. “We - my family and I - need somewhere permanent. Others would use us; welcome us in as refugees only to demand activity and loyalty. Some would turn us away for the company we keep. But you,” She pauses, finding that austerity has overcome her features in this rare encounter, “you have kept attention and focus on your own people and that is why I find myself here today.”
He is a King, in his own right, so Circinae will give to him what she has never given to another. She bows, curves her navy-veiled neck and tucks her head close to her chest, and offers a request: “Let me bring my people here and fill your Kingdom to overflowing, save us from destitution,” She says, head rising so that her crystalline eyes might relay the passion in her voice, “and Hyaline will know a peace like she has never known. Those who could destroy it, would tremble to threaten it.”
if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
Amet truly believes that the discomfort he feels at hearing King as a precursor to his name will never fade - it's not that he is opposed to the title, but the young stallion can never decide if it sounds decorous or pretentious. It sits on the cusp of both, an awkward see-saw that he has yet to conquer. Nevertheless, he smiles at the gesture and the kindness bestowed on him by the verdant Circinae.
She speaks freely and openly of the trials she has faced and Amet, ever the empath, frowns at what she has experienced. He, himself, has seen the dark side of life, though it has admittedly improved since his arrival in Beqanna. His mother had told him the same thing, once - that she had wished that she hadn't brought him into this world, in this life. And then she'd handed the young boy over to Him; a bartering chip for a golden crown. The gilded stallion pulls himself from this reverie, from that place, and focuses again on Cirinae's steady smile. He feels for her plight and for the weight on her shoulders, having slowly grown used to the feeling himself. There had been a time, in his youth, that he hadn't wanted the responsibility of caring for others. For Iset and Sakir.
But they had needed him and he them, and Amet wonders if this is how Circinae feels about the group that has grown to search for her guidance. His own kind smile forms afresh, coaxed by the wolf-mare's unfaltering one. It turns sheepish as she calls him your grace, a pet name he'd heard only in jest before this moment. He wonders what the stories outside of Hyaline tell of him, if there are any - is he considered a good king? Is he known only for his failure at protecting Hyaline during its assault? Is there threat of a takeover, now that he does not rest beneath Nayl's umbrella?
The Dragon King listens attentively, his awe flourishing beneath the respect that she shows to him. He's unused to the display, doesn't believe that he should be respected any more than any of those who call Hyaline home, but his appreciation illuminates his narrow face nonetheless. "Bring your people, Circinae," he says with warm decisiveness, his amber eyes searching hers, "And find safety in Hyaline. You are welcome here as long as Hyaline's security is always the intent." His gaze glimmers with excitement and he shifts his frame restlessly beneath the sunshine. "We have been in need of a Protector. Perhaps, in time, you or one of yours will have interest in that title."
