"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
12-09-2019, 05:50 PM (This post was last modified: 12-09-2019, 05:54 PM by Ryatah.)
she fell for the idea of him and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
She has been relatively quiet ever since the afterlife was opened, or at least, quiet by her standards. From the outskirts she watched as the dead returned and their loved ones rejoiced – over and over, she watched the same scene unfold. And it had hurt, at first, knowing that that would never be her. Even if Dhumin did come back, what would that even mean? It wouldn’t mean happiness – they were never meant for that. He was calloused and cold, and things would have been exactly as they were before, with her just a broken afterthought that sat there waiting to be remembered.
But maybe there was a part of her that missed that. That was a brokenness she was used to; the kind she had lived with for countless years. There was a time when her heart beat for no other reason than to try and gain his acceptance, when all she wanted was a glance spared her way or a touch that didn’t leave her feeling emptier than before.
Sometimes she thinks that would be better than whatever it is she feels right now. When she fluctuates between feeling almost nothing to feeling everything all at once, when she feels like something inside of her is going to either combust or she’s going to just dissolve to nothing. She wonders where Skellig is, and then immediately feels guilty for even wondering. He was gone, just as he should be, because she hadn’t given him a reason to stay. She never gave anyone a reason to stay, she realizes; she only wanted the things she couldn’t have, things that never would or could be hers, even though something as beautiful and perfect like Skellig was there all along.
Maybe she could finally get used to being alone.
From the corner of her eye she sees a familiar flash of white, and with a turn of her haloed head her dark eyes settle on Agetta. She hasn’t seen her since they all escaped the afterlife, and the first thing she notices is that she looks happy. It’s not jealousy that sparks in her chest; she’s not even sure what it is, actually, but perhaps a strange sort of longing. “Agetta,” she calls her name softly, stepping through the golden summer grass that sways in the breeze. The afternoon sunlight catches the gilded feathers that lay scattered throughout the white of her wings, and the ring of light above her head all the more illuminated by the backlight of the sun. “You made it out unscathed, it seems,” is all she says once she is close enough, her eyes sweeping over her as she wonders if she, too, was somehow changed.
Agetta still feels as though she has been moving through a dream, her steps lighter than they were before. She knows she should be worried, at least a little bit, about what memories she had lost to Death but it is hard to worry about something she does not miss. She is aware of the difference in her attitude, aware that she had felt lost and uncertain before her journey into the afterlife, but her mind glances so easily off of whatever used to exist within the dark corners and now only holds empty space.
There are still more horrors than she would care for, and in the wake of everything that has happened there are surely new worries that have taken the place of the old ones, but still. Smiles come a little bit easier to her midnight blue eyes than they did before and that is something to rejoice in.
Of course, part of those easy smiles come when she thinks about Plume. About the feeling of standing with him in this new Beqanna, the scent of him flooding her senses.
She’s lost in these thoughts when she hears a soft voice calling to her. Her gaze moves, expecting to see the white mare she has known for years that can no longer be counted. She does see that white mare - but she is not just a white mare any more. “Ryatah! Look at you!”Her eyes widen and a smile grows, incredulous and full of amazement as she watches the haloed and winged figure of her friend move through the grass towards her. “Oh my dear friend, you are so beautiful! You were before too, of course, but my goodness.”
Belatedly, she becomes conscious about how her gaze is wandering - taking in the absolutely incredible sight before her - and she smiles, focusing her gaze on those familiar near-black eyes as she teases gently. “Who would have thought a former queen of the Valley would be so angelic. How are you liking it?”
There are more questions but instead Agetta responds to the words Ryatah had spoken. “And yes, mostly unscathed, at least in comparison to you. The afterlife granted me a few small gifts. Apparently I can flash light beams now - nearly blinded some poor soul in the forest the first time they came out.” She laughs lightly, though naturally the guilt of that moment still worries her. Blinded someone and learned some new curse words all at once.
She had no reason to be in the meadow, yet here she was. She remains veiled in the shadow - away from the prying eyes of those lingering here. There was nothing sinister that had brought her to this place - no nefarious intent. However, she was never one to pass up an opportunity. That opportunistic nature was as much a part of Ana as the shadows themselves.
It was the familiar faces that give her pause. First Ryatah, who she’d see in Pangea not long ago. And she wasn’t alone.
Agetta.
A twisted smile lit up upon her face. Oh, the shadowmare and the leopard had quite a history. However, when Anaxarete searched through Agetta’s memories - she found that all memories of their time together were...absent. They had been taken from her - extinguished altogether. Peculiar, to be sure.
But this interesting development certainly brought with it an entirely new opportunity. The twisted smile returns. She calls upon her magic then. She could feel the child already quickening in Agetta’s womb. So she crafts the child a sibling born of the two mares yet infused with her own magic.
A child crafted of the Beqanna of old.
Agetta had become the unknowing vessel of Ana’s newest project, with Ryatah providing the missing piece. And with that, the shadowmare disappeared into the shadows - leaving the child to grow.
she fell for the idea of him and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
Despite her amiable disposition, she has never been particularly good at keeping friends. As with most aspects of her life, she had a habit of destroying every decent thing that happened to her, or pushing away anyone that fell in the realm of normal. She’s not even sure if she’s ever had anyone that qualified as a real friend – where she didn’t have to be cautious of a hair-trigger temper, or an ulterior motive drawing them together. Boheme was the only one that came to mind, but even then, the foundation of their friendship was marred with sin and the twisted ways of that jungle in a land so far away. The relationship itself was easy and sweet, but as with almost everything else, it was tinged with darkness.
But Agetta – she was different.
There was nothing about the other mare that could be associated with anything negative, and while that should have been a relief, that isn’t what she feels. There’s a tension building inside of her, the kind that makes her blood run hot but her skin grow cold, a shiver chasing up the length of her spine. It’s the nervous anticipation that something is suppose to happen, a knee-jerk reaction telling her that she should be afraid, even when there is no one here that she should fear.
It’s why Agetta’s compliment makes her face flush, but her heart jump nervously simultaneously. Had anyone ever actually said that to her before? She can’t remember the last time anyone had told her she was beautiful; the men she spent most of her time with knew by now they didn’t have to waste their breath on meaningless compliments to get what they wanted from her. “Thank you, but…” she can feel her words start to trail, the halo above her head suddenly feeling heavy, “I don’t think I really qualify as an angel.” Her wings rustle at her sides in almost a shrug, forcing a light laugh before adding, “But, I can heal things now, so I guess that might be useful.”
She does not notice Anaxarete lurking in the shadows, and even if she had, there’s nothing to say that she would have paid the shadow queen any mind. It was an ingrained habit to look the other way when darkness threatened to encroach; just one of her many morality flaws. Still, her eyes are drawn to the spot where Anaxarete had just disappeared from, staring for a heartbeat too long before her dark eyes look back to Agetta with a smile. “I’d ask for a demonstration, but I’ve been enjoying not being blind anymore.” The words are followed with a laugh, and a playful nudge against her shoulder. “I’m kidding. I’m sure you’re great with your new light beam thing.”
If something, or someone, exists in the shadows nearby - Agetta does not notice at all. Her attention is completely on Ryatah, she’s still marvelling at how beautiful she looks and how strange this new Beqanna is. Everyone seems to be more shiny, more colourful, than the last. There are so many new and wonderful and, quite frankly, ridiculous things. But she does not think Ryatah’s new abilities are ridiculous in the least.
She laughs when Ryatah nudges her and says she’s kidding, but Agetta just shakes her head. “Oh no, you were right the first time - I haven’t gotten the hang of it yet. Being blind once is enough, I’d think.” Kinda of like dying? Once should be enough. How many times were they going to slip into the afterlife and come back out again. Agetta can’t help but hope the next time will be a more permanent stay there. It’s strange, wishing for death - even passively. But she has to believe that staying in the afterlife would be better than the half-existence she had been living through.
Things have improved lately, it’s true, but she knows this cannot last forever. Peace never does.
She blinks and these casually morbid thoughts disappear, her smile still soft and present. “But healing! That’s definitely handy.” Even in times of peace, there’s always injuries, accidental or otherwise, that happen. The rest of it Agetta does not feel jealous over - but she has to admit she would particularly love being able to heal.
Her mind wanders and her smile falters a little with it, drifting to the quest they had gone through starting on the beach.
“Did…” Agetta hesitates, wondering if the question she’s about to ask is too personal. Probably. She knows Ryatah but not well. Will the angelic mare allow her to learn a little more? “Did your someone come back from the afterlife too?” Plume is permanently on Agetta’s mind these days and she has heard rumours that others have come back as well. They all opened the doors to the afterlife, after all.
she fell for the idea of him and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
It almost feels wrong, to be having a conversation that is so normal. Like she is an imposter, and pretending to be someone – something – that she is not. Agetta is sweet, and gives her laughter and compliments easily, and Ryatah finds herself wondering if it’s real. She feels like maybe she can see straight through this haphazard disguise, beyond the angelic exterior and to the wretched creature that lurks beneath – the one that looks the other way when awful things are happening, the one that takes things like love and reduces it to dust.
Maybe the smiles and the compliments were just a ruse, she thinks, a way for Agetta to fake it through a conversation with an undeserving angel. It would have been easy to let those thoughts spiral, until she had convinced herself that this single shred of normalcy was just as fabricated as everything else.
Agetta is not like the rest of them, she reminds herself, and she pulls herself out of the darkness she had been subconsciously crafting for herself.
For once, she thinks, she can just let herself have something nice; something genuine that she will not break, something that does not require her to sacrifice so much of herself.
When she asks about who she had sought in the afterlife, her face does not give away to how her heart clenches inside of her chest. The darkness of her eyes flicker just briefly, the only sign that she had even registered what Agetta had asked, but inwardly a torrent of thoughts and emotions flood her. The surface of her remains impassive, lending nothing to the turmoil that churns in the deepest part of her chest when she thinks of Dhumin. “No,” she finally says, with a melancholy smile. “He chose not to come. Not with me, at least. I don’t know. Maybe he left later and I didn’t notice.” Her gaze turns to her companion, her tone still a forced kind of light when she adds, “He was always good at that.” At leaving, without her, and then returning as though nothing had happened. He had taught her that, too – how to leave, and how to handle being left. How to be left over and over again and not crumble even if they took a small piece of her everytime they did it.
“You seem happy, so, I assume your outcome was brighter than mine,” she says, genuine and uncondescending. She has never been the kind to be bitter at another’s happiness; her sorrows were almost always of her own doing.
Although Ryatah gives no indication of how much Agetta’s words stung, nor the hurt that they dredged up, there is still that melancholy smile. Even Ryatah’s words, though light, do not bring happy tidings and they cause Agetta’s midnight blue eyes to soften.
It makes her grateful for Plume’s return and the life that he breathed back into her, and then right after that she feels ashamed for being glad her story did not play out the same as her companion’s. “I’m sorry.” She offers quietly with a sad smile over her own. Like every time she apologizes lately, that one word covers so much that she cannot find the words to explain fully. She is truly sorry that Ryatah’s venture into the afterlife did not end happily. Sorry that the one she met (who Agetta quickly decides she does not like) had a history of leaving without her. She feels guilty that she has found joy and wishes she could spread it, but love does not work like that. And though she cares for the angelic mare near her very much - she understands that she cannot make up for things lost.
When Ryatah mentions aloud that Agetta seems happy, she dips her head in embarrassment, but the smile comes easily. It always does, when she thinks of him.
“I don’t know if you knew or met Plume before?” She watches Ryatah curiously, wondering if they could have crossed paths before he had died, before all of this had happened. “We were…” Her thoughts fumble for the right word. “Together before we both died the first time. He came back and yes, I suppose I am happy. Though it feels strange… I had forgotten what it felt like.”
This is a strange thing to admit outloud, a thought she had never shared. Agetta had always sought to be kind and just but happiness had always been elusive, ever since she was a filly. It was not something she could gain on her crusade for peace, nor find except in small doses with her beloved children - too many failures darkening her thoughts for that. She hadn’t even had many friends until very recently. Plume had brought her to life but the other faces she had met since returning, including the one before her now, had already started giving her the roots she had been missing.
