"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
Dawn breaks over the eastern summits and Solace rises to meet the morning. A recent rain had washed the sky clean, leaving the air beautifully rich and full of mid-summer scents, even at this early hour. Silently, Solace slips away from the clover meadow where she had spent the night. The young Queen had yet to find the perfect place, the den or glen she would call her own, and each night she spent each night at a different site.
She begins her dawn routine - trekking across the outer faces of the mountains. Her lonely mornings suit her fancy, she isn't trying to remain aloof but she does enjoy the time to herself. The afternoon and evening hours tended to be packed with activities and conversations, and her solitary hikes gave her time to think over important matters. So the hours pass - but they are measured in miles not time - and before long the sun has reached its zenith. She turns towards the turquoise heart of the lake kingdom.
Warrick's daughter had always thought herself to be an old soul, to be capable of observing problems and situations from a step back, she did not let emotions or impulses rule her the way her mother had. But now, everything she thought she had known was changing.
Castile. A mere stranger had caused her poise to unravel and terrifying desires to frustrate her. Something darker had woke that day, and she found herself thinking thoughts about Smoak and Castile that she had never had before. Thoughts that made her blush and she chased away as soon as they appeared.
She didn't know that was the woman in her. The only women she truly knew was rash and passionate. Solace clung to the girl like a liferaft. But the girl was pure - the girl had a good head on her shoulders.
This is not what she needs to be thinking about. She needs to be thinking Loess and Nerine - her neighbors who she had yet to become acquainted with. She needed to be thinking of important things.
The sight of Corvus is a welcome distraction from her tumbling thoughts, and she turns towards him without a second thought. He was someone she had been meaning to find.
The girl would make a decent Queen.
"Corvus," a gracious smile light up her face. She was learning to be diplomatic, but she had never been disingenuous - not that she had to force that smile. "I wanted to thank you, for your support during my coronation. I meant what I said."
She comes to stand alongside him at a respectable distance, reaching out her muzzle in greeting.
"You have lived in Hyaline for quite some time, you must have some ideas about areas which could use improvement. I would love to hear any suggestions you may have."
(yes, I am alone) but then again, I always was. as far back as I can tell.
His youth had slipped away from him; gone with every deep carving his brother and mother had made with the jagged edge of their betrayal. Filled with loathing and resentment at an early age, he never clung onto wistful fantasies, nor unrealistic expectations. He learned life was simply unfair, wrought with despair, and rife with duplicity and treachery. When his mother abandoned any semblance of a bond with him, consumed with herself and whatever wild fancy she held, he had felt the last thread of detachment envelope his heart, and harden it. He had no patience, nor time for blood – it had been soiled, heavy with sediment and laced with arsenic, and he was not foolish enough to drink the poison of his upbringing.
Alas, time has a way of healing all – and slowly, his heart began to mend in the absence of the hatred and disappoint that had all but devoured him in his youth. No longer faced with the constant stare of dismay from his mother, nor confronted by the taunting jests of his brother permitted Corvus to come into his own. Still quiet, ever silent, but .. almost peaceful. Almost serene. If not for the nightmares.
The morning sun is gentle across the edge of the horizon, bathing the valley in a splendor of color that does dance across the pristine, crystalline surface of the lake. His mind is lost to the beauty of it, content to simply be while the dark emerald feathers flutter across the surface of each tucked wing with a gale born from his own desire. The wind is unruly, tangling itself through the darkness of his haphazard tresses, swept away from the bright hazel of his gaze – staring out, still, motionless.
When the soft cadence of a voice interrupts his reverie, he is startled, eyes wide as the broadness of his masculine physique jerks, though a quiet (though slightly embarrassed) laugh emerges from the viridian of his lips. ”I didn’t hear you,” he murmurs, as the air is instantly still – the heavy wind he conjured from nothing at all suddenly sucked back into his chest, and there is no longer any wind to speak of. ”you startled me, Solace,” he chides, though purely in jest, as the uptick of a faint smile at the corner of his mouth betrays his humor.
”No need to thank me,” he says with a shake of his head, as knotted and dreadlocked pieces of his mane fall in the way of his eyes, boring into her own. She is soft, feminine, and yet distinctly pure – he can see why she was chosen; she would carry the heart of Hyaline as carefully and as devotedly as Amet had. ”I meant what I said, too. You will – and do make for a wonderful Queen.”
And then she is beside him, but he is watchful of her still, despite the gleam of sunlight across the stillness of the water that tries to lure his attention away. He wishes he could melt the tension away from his coiled muscle (he wishes he could open up; he wishes he could have a friend), and he wishes she would not hide behind the façade of a Queen.
”Unification,” he says after a moment of thought. ”there are times in which it feels there is no connection to either side of our governance. The war and peace branches should meet, with you, and with each other. For Hyaline to stand tall, it should stand united within itself, as it does with its allies.”
I think maybe it's because you were never really real to begin with. (I just made you up to hurt myself)
She startles him, but he is quick to recover and offer her a modest smile. The flash of embarrassment softens the features of the masculine face she had only ever seen set in stoicism and Solace can't help but relax her own formality, for only a breath, as he chides her in a way very simile to the way she spoke to her own brother.
Fleeting, the moment passes as quickly as it came
Unification, he says, and she sigs because she knows it's true. Young but sensible, the new Queen listens intently as her advisor elaborates, all the time her sapphire eyes searching his handsome face.
Even if Amet now held the title, in her heart she would always be the Keeper. Her mind rarely wandered past the borders of her home, the sanctuary, and she would gladly ignore the rest of the world if she could foster the peace and love in Hyaline that she and Amet had dared to imagine. But Corvus, he was here to remind her what wishful thinking that was. She wasn't the Keeper anymore, she had to think of their position in the large, unsteady continent.
"Your title is a weighty one, more so now than when we have a healthy guard." Her steady gaze never leaves his face, there is more to the fascination than simply seeking his good advice, but she smothers that idea before it an fully form. "Corvus, you are an advisor and Hyaline's protection, and I thank you for your honesty."
Corvus feels steady, and his thoughtful answer instills a sense of calm over her. She could trust him for honest and helpful critique. "For now, our neighbor's keep to themselves, but we can not trust that will last for long. I would like for us to build up a defensive guard in this time of peace. Evaluate what you can do in the next week or so, and soon I will call a meeting to unite both sides as you suggest."
There is something darker lurking below his placid exterior, (bridled passion or rage?) and it intrigues her. He seems to be a different breed from her wayward twin or even Smoak. A stirring in her gut tells her she could count on him to draw blood if the time for violence came, and that thought simultaneously unsettles and reassures her.
"A friend of mine, Smoak, will be spending some time here," she hesitates to volunteer Svedka for reasons she can not get to the bottom of in her momentary pause. "He may be able to assist you."
(yes, I am alone) but then again, I always was. as far back as I can tell.
”I will bear whatever title you see fit for me, Solace,” he says quietly, as the darkness of his gold-laced eyes search her own. She is wise beyond her years, and yet so touched by her youth that he cannot help but to marvel at the wonder that she is. She is the epitome of light, with an ethereal cadence to her soft voice, and kindness and insecurity (which would fade with time, and cannot be seen by the naked eye – but before him, she is rife with trepidation, desiring so deeply to be what she is expected to be – what he is certain she can and will be).
If her gaze has lingered on him for too long beyond any purpose of curiosity, he does not seem to notice. He is oblivious to the idea that he is anything but a mass of muscle and bone; he had spent so much of his youth in isolation he hardly knew the stirring of attraction in the pit of his belly when it came – often, he blamed it on indigestion, or some sort of malady that could be more simply explained than the irresistible draw to another breathing being. If anything, he is made more aware of himself because she is staring (counting the breaths taken between each carefully spun sentence, ensuring his posture is erect and still, wondering if his tousled tresses of evergreen are too mangled and knotted to be presentable).
”A guard,” he repeats, though not because he is questioning her. The word is heavy on his tongue, and he is left wondering why he had not thought of it before. He alone could not see each end of the jagged mountain precipices, nor through the dense copse of birch, hickory and red maple, where an unfamiliar face could so easily tuck away into the shadows for nefarious reasons. A guard would keep intruders at bay, and it would keep the sanctuary quiet. Tranquil. Untouched.
”Capital idea,” he muses, searching the richness of her wide-eyed gaze with his own, giving inclination of his agreement with a nod of his broad head, disturbing a wayward lock of hair across his strong features. ”I will gather and assemble a guard to monitor the northern, southern, western and eastern border, and report back to you.”
Smoak.
(His grandmother Ellyse had told him of Smoak long ago, when he was but a boy – while Corvus was coming into his own, with an edge of testosterone to shake away the youth clutching to his golden features, Smoak was a small, bleating newborn, with spindly legs and a ravenous appetite. He did not know then that each of their paths would merge; he wondered if he would even recognize him as his own blood.)
”When will he be here?” he inquires, deciding that a discussion of the family lineage could be saved for another time. ”And where can I find him?”
I think maybe it's because you were never really real to begin with. (I just made you up to hurt myself)
