"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
howling ghosts, they reappear in mountains that are stacked with fear
The weight of the guilt had sat in his chest like stones since their encounter.
His knees had been scarred and bleeding, but it had been nothing to the hurt in her eyes when the fog from the memory had finally cleared—when he had finally been able to break through the agony to realize where he was and what had happened. Realizing that had been worse than the fresh pain of watching the death of everything that he had loved, bearing witness to it as if he had just watched it anew.
So it’s no surprise that he had eventually split from the group of Rhaegor and Kensa, picking up on her scent. He had politely excused himself when he was sure that they had been safe, glad to give the pair some alone time, and traced it, both hoping to find her and hoping to avoid this for just a little longer.
But he can’t run from this—he knows that.
So he keeps walking, the stones in his chest weighing heavier and heavier until he finally sees her familiar form, the anglers reaching majestically out into the sky. He takes a steadying breath, wishing once more that he could avoid this, and then straightens his shoulder and makes his way toward her.
He stops several feet away, giving her a wide berth.
His gold-flecked eyes burn with a thousand things unsaid, and he finds that he wants to explain. He wants to tell her that he was half out of his mind. That he didn’t even know who she was. That she had been a ghost of those he had loved and lost. But—but—it doesn’t matter. Of course, it doesn’t. His intentions don’t cancel out his actions and so he just drops his head, shaking it, the grief raw on his scarred features.
And then the only thing that comes from him is the only thing that should:
{ and in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times }
It weighs on my mind too, but in the whirlwind of returning to my kingdom, it's been pushed to the wayside.
The children took days to calm and soothe, demanding that I tell them everything that happened since I left and how I got the scar and why I could possibly want such a thing - they're all too young right now to really grasp what it means to live forever, and neither Solace nor I will know if they've inherited my immortality for years to come at least. And of course I obliged their every wish, forgetting my pains and sorrows in exchange for games of tag and taking turns letting them come into their wildest dreams with me; I want to be a good mother, and this act of running away felt too much like when I abandoned Abysm. It sickens me to recognize the difference in how I treat the triplets and even the twins compared to him - but he is grown now, I missed my opportunity to mother him right a long time ago.
Still, it had been less than okay when I'd run into Magnus in the field. Despite having almost forgotten our encounter - how enraptured I'd been, how horrific his dream had been, and at the last, the suffocating heaviness of his unbidden passions - seeing him out in the open like that left me almost gagging. It's not that I'm angry with him, or that I blame him - I'd seen the way he'd looked at me right before I fled our river-bound meeting, I know in my heart that what had happened had been a misunderstanding, a slip up in the transition from dream to reality. But it had happened, and I though I held myself together for the sake of the recruit, I couldn't and still can't bring myself to remedy the situation of my own accord.
I might be a self-made queen and I might have been a hairs breadth from death and I might be a mother in the most otherworldly way, but something about what happened has left me shriveled inside.
So when I catch his scent drifting towards me, I freeze; I'm lucky to have caught it before actually seeing him, as it gives me time to compose myself. Although I do so successfully, there's a part of my mind that screams for Solace to come and to shelter me from the reality of what happened that night, to swathe me in the musk of her romance and in the heady taste of her cigarette lips against mine. But though she will support me in any endeavor, I know as Magnus approaches that this is something I must face by myself.
His facial expression is raw, grief-stricken and causing me to feel guilty about just how badly what happened truly did make me feel. I love my wife, and I would never consent to anything of the sort of what happened that night - but like I said, we were intoxicated essentially, and I can't blame him for also wanting to love someone. It hadn't been me. And I know before he asks for my forgiveness, that I have already given it to him.
Silence follows in the wake of his heartfelt apology, almost oppressive in nature as the clouds above skid ignorantly by. Ignorantly, and blissfully - two things I wish I could be in this moment. But I swallow against the lump in my throat and force myself to meet his gold-flecked eyes, the gut-wrenching feeling of looking him in the face lessening as I come to terms with what happened being something of the past.
"Please, I know you meant nothing by it." My own voice is raspy, reflecting perhaps the grievous wound which decorates my face, newly since last him and I met. Or, he'd seen it in the field, but had had the grace not to comment. "I forgive you Magnus, and I hope that you will feel comfortable roaming Hyaline... Warrick tells me you are faithful to Tephra, and any from that kingdom are welcome here." My voice sounds hollow, as if I don't quite mean the words - but I do, and I simply lack the luster to make them sound that way. Hopefully, a blink of my eyes will be enough to convey the truth of my words.
"It's beautiful here. Not like the jungle, but almost."
howling ghosts, they reappear in mountains that are stacked with fear
Each moment is more painful than the last, the truth of his own darkness, of his own mistakes twisting like a knife into his chest. He almost gasps against the pain of it, the regret so thick in his throat that he fears he may choke on it. But he does not have the right to such cowardice, does not have the right to leave her here bearing the weight of his own missteps and thus he remains, gold-flecked eyes burning, his scarred body tense with it, but still. He would not leave—not yet. He couldn’t.
At her words, hollow as they may be, he relaxes ever so slightly, although the weight of the guilt does not relent. She may have forgiven him, but it will be a long time until he does the same for himself. It will be a long time before he can face himself for what he has done, for the way he held her as if she was his.
“You are kinder than I deserve,” is all he says, whiskey voice tight in his throat. She is stiff but graceful, her face scarred with something he had not left. Part of him wants to ask about it, wants to learn what encounter she had that had left her face so mutilated, but he doesn’t. After all, it doesn’t matter—not really. His own body is riddled with scars, his mind even more so, and he was not ashamed.
It was a mark of pride, of strength—and if she wanted to tell him, she would.
“Your home is beautiful,” he looks way from her to survey the way that it folds around them, the way that the whole land seemed to curl around and cradle the lake in the center of it all. “But it is different than the jungle,” he admits, hoping to lighten the conversation even a little. “Then again, so is Tephra.”
He pauses, thinking he should just leave, but he cannot help the same stirring in his belly, that same need to befriend the Queen of dreams. “How did you find yourself here, Kagerus?”
10-02-2018, 12:21 AM (This post was last modified: 10-02-2018, 12:22 AM by Kagerus.)
Kagerus
{ and in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times }
He visibly relaxes, allowing my forgiveness to wash over his wounds; but a cleansing is not a healing, and I don't know how I feel knowing that. A part of me wants to take them away entirely, to someone find a way to blame myself for what happened, as if that would make coping with it easier; but I know it won't. No extent of victimization or self-sabotaging will make what happened okay - but just because it happened doesn't mean I can't move forward. That we both can't move forward.
Life is about progress, even when it makes your heart ache.
"We all deserve kindness," I murmur without meeting his gaze, my voice soft and vulnerable in the silence around us.
He speaks of my home next, changing the tone in his voice and signalling that I may again meet his gaze without feeling some kind of strange, heavy investigation, not that he's giving one. But meet his gaze I do now, or at least I watch as he takes in the beauty of Hyaline, eyes bouncing from the lake to the mountains to the copses of trees. It is a beautiful home. Not like the Jungle, and not like Tephra, either. I give a faint smile at these words, not sure what to say in reply.
But he asks a question then, causing my smile to stutter and fall. He reiterates that it's my choice to tell him. I swallow. It's not a personal story by any means; just a little daunting, talking to him like this. But I remind myself that he's been hurt too, I force myself to relive the nightmare he dragged us both through, to see his mother and his lover and the flames and the pain. He's been hurt, too. And there's no reason I can't join him in moving past that pain.
"It's a bit of a long and funny story actually, if you're not busy." He's the first to ever ask to hear it, and so I settle into my hip, my tone of voice lightening considerably as I throw up my head and think, the thoughts slowly unraveling into words.
"After the Reckoning, I lost my father with whom I'd lived my whole life, and stuck to the river after some time in the Beyond. There I met Insignificance, who then found my father - and it turns out that they'd been lovers of a kind in the Chamber, decades and decades ago, back when Atrox was last spotted. I remember dad telling me stories about him, funny ones, though they weren't funny at the time. But anyway, I decided that Insignificance and I needed a home since we were both lost in the wake of the Reckoning, so I came to Hyaline, having heard that it was a sanctuary kingdom for refugees and what not.
I met Solace that day, though I had no idea it would lead to anything more than me serving beneath her. I went on to bring Insignificance back, and she reunited me with my father, and they live now in a willow grove to the east of the easternmost mountain. They had a son Khaedrik, and he lives here too. That left me in this kingdom with a lot of time on my hands, and I guess politics are in my blood - Kagerou is my grandmother, you might remember her as one of the Amazonian leaders - so I just. Went out one day. And then the next. Brought in a lot of new blood, including Hyaline's steadfast ambassador, Ilma."
I pause in the story, remembering my suicide attempt and how Solace had literally saved me from death by dragging me out of the waters; coughing to hide this hesitation, I brush over that part of the story.
"From there Solace and I fell in love, and she named me Caretaker alongside her. Besides running the kingdom together, we've also managed to have triplets, on top of my one other child and her other two children. It's nice, I think. I love my family." I smile, gently. "I love this life."
"I hope I haven't bored you, Magnus. If you'd like to tell me of your life, I wouldn't be opposed - though I figure it's much longer than my nineteen years."
howling ghosts, they reappear in mountains that are stacked with fear
The least he can do, he figures, is give her a conversation that is not burdened with his own guilt.
It would be easy to sit and remind her of his guilt, to push it on her, to make her feel the weight of it with every breath, but it would be a selfish thing to do—something that would only make him feel better without helping her. So he draws it inward. He internalizes the shame and the agony, letting it simmer in his belly but no longer sit so naked on his face. She knew how he felt. She knew the rawness of his emotions. He did not need to remind her at every turn, force her to grapple with it for him.
He relaxes even more, falling back on the learned patterns of his manners, of diplomacy learned through his kingdom-raised upbringing. Such things did not come naturally to him, but his roguish charm and natural appreciation for women had honed them. He genuinely liked their company, and he had learned how to navigate complex, even tense, conversations with some semblance of grace.
He called on that skill now, doing his best to put her at ease.
“I have all the time in the world, Kagerus,” and his voice is genuine. He always loved to hear about other people’s stories. They so wildly varied, after all. So many of them had started from similar beginnings or shared common threads but they always branched out, taking on unique twists and turns.
So he settles, cocking a back leg, the sun-bleached edges of his tail flicking idly at his haunches.
He listens as she explains, getting lost in her tail—and if his crooked smile grows a little deeper when she casually mentions his father, he says nothing of it. At least not yet.
As she finishes, he drops his head, keeping his gold-flecked eyes on her.
“It sounds like you’ve made quite the life for yourself, Kagerus. You should be proud.”
It strikes him, how she talks of her life with Solace and their children reminds him so deeply of his time with Joelle and their family in the Gates. At the time, it had felt like forever. It had felt like the kind of love that would always be there—the kind that would never leave. It’s difficult to think about the fact that he has now spent more time apart from Joelle than he was ever allowed to spend by her side.
Time is a funny, wicked thing.
“You could never bore me. It’s fascinating to hear about your life. I’d love to hear more about it, whatever you are willing to share.” But then she prompts him, and he just laughs and shakes his head. “Which life, Kagerus?” One corner of his mouth deepens into something between a smile and a thoughtful frown. “I was born a long, long time ago. Maybe over a hundred years ago, but I lost track.” A roll of his youthful shoulders, the pink puckered flesh catching the light. “I suppose you can blame it on a senile mind.”
A pause.
“It’s funny that you mention Atrox. He’s my father. Not that that’s exceedingly rare.” Magnus was well aware of his father’s ever-increasing brood. “I told you before that I was raised in the jungle. My mother, Twinge, was perhaps the only thing that ever kept my father’s interest longer than the Chamber. She raised me and I was quite enamored with the Amazonians. I considered staying there amongst them for a long time, but my ambitions eventually got the best of me. So I left to serve in the Chamber when my father was still King. I eventually became Lord there.” Another pause, the golden stallion flipping through his memories to find the right words, to piece together the right pieces.
“But I met a girl. Joelle. She was the daughter of the Gate’s King Liefde and I followed her there. When her father stepped down, he named her Queen and made me her General. A few years after that, she asked me to serve alongside her as King.” His smile deepens here, the agony easing as he thinks of her. “We had a few of the happiest years of my lives. We had children. We had friends and family. It was wonderful.”
He swallows.
“But I’ve never been able to hold onto things like that for long.”
He doesn’t go further. Doesn’t tell her about how he eventually abdicated the throne, convinced that he wasn’t good enough for the Light kingdom. How he ran to the Dale to lose himself to work in the army. How Joelle and his family was kidnapped. How he and Librette had to fight so hard to get them back. He doesn’t tell her about how Joelle and him were eventually murdered on the beach, and how he watched her die with his body bleeding out. How he was eventually brought back to life and what he had lived through since then. Finding and losing Minette. Protecting the Gates as war threatened the horizon but being trapped in that otherworldly place by Woolf as a protection that felt like a prison.
So much history that always threatens to rise up his throat and drag him down.
So many years lived, chipping away at him, scorching his fingertips.
He doesn’t mention that. He just gives her a smile.
“I am grateful for all of the good that I have been given in my life. I have been very lucky.”
{ and in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times }
He mentions wanting to hear more, and I offer smile, demurring with a slight drop of my eyes. "Perhaps another time, Magnus." But he accepts my invitation to tell me of himself, and as he cracks a careful joke - as careful as one can be when it comes to life, death, and existentialism - I return my eyes to his, hoping that he would not begrudge me this quiet rejection. Although we are moving on from what happened, I know that he will understand that this is all I am willing to share right now.
I put these thoughts to the side as he begins spinning his tale, trying to imagine now just what a hundred years might feel like. I'm a fifth of the way there - but even considering this fact is daunting, and I decide to just listen instead of worrying myself still with silly existential dread.
He speaks of being born of a different Amazonian Queen, one I don't recognize but who sounds entirely worthy of the position and the respect that comes with it, even these decades later. I also consider the triviality of the fact that he, too, had been drawn to the chamber - he ought to meet father, really, considering the similarities between them. Sons of an Amazon Queen, enamored with life in the Jungle, but pulled away to the Chamber by a male blood relative to serve in a high position there. It's uncanny almost, and the fact that they share the same coat colour; but when Magnus' story moves on to the Gates, the similarities end.
When he speaks of Joelle, I am reminded of my life with Solace; but as he finishes by eluding to a not-so-happy ending, the sweetness of my thoughts somewhat sours. I am terrified by what may come for my family and I, as if that were not self evident by the journey and sacrifice I've just made for my wife. The still-healing scar that splits my face in two aches at the thought; and it only lessens some when Magnus mentions being grateful.
"Luck is a vindictive bastard," I mutter, almost to myself. "I'm sorry that you had to feel her wrath."
Taking a shuddering inhale, I glance over my shoulder towards the mountain which holds the golden-white mare I call my heart. After hearing Magnus' tale - or rather, not hearing it, but understanding the nuances of its silence all the same - I yearn to be with her. Licking my lips and pressing them together somewhat anxiously, I turn to face the stallion once more, a somewhat urgent tone entering my voice.
"I have to be going now Magnus, but I appreciate getting to hear your story. Please feel free to explore Hyaline - my father would probably get a kick out of getting to meet Atrox's son all these years later." I take a step back, then pause with a stiff smile. "Until next time."
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