She can’t imagine calling anywhere else home. There’s an obvious beauty in the Gates from the sweeping, embracing branches of the willows to the wildflowers that blanket the meadows in the spring and summer. The kingdom advertises itself as the light, airy, good place it is. And while Emmerly might not share all of these qualities herself, it’s hard to picture her life spent anywhere else. The paint thinks maybe it’s what ground her here, this disparity between who she is and where she plants her feet at night. Darkness runs deeply in her marrow, after all. Her father and mother had been a prince and a princess of the Chamber, respectively. Sometimes she thinks she can feel their influence start to creep up on her. Sometimes she swears she’s drawn to the fighting rings for no greater reason other than to satiate her need for violence.
It’s a chilling thought that is only the light of the Gates can force back into the shadowed corners of her mind.
She’s glad to be back, whatever the case may be. She’s glad to be amongst friendly faces again, ecstatic to have sweet Eldrian by her side as she transitions back into working life. As Emmerly listens to Fiasko talk of her own children, it brings a knowing smile to her face. It quickly turns into a more appropriately shocked expression when she learns the count of them, though. “Twins?! I can hardly keep track of this singleton on my own.” The paint woman laughs gently, mostly because it isn’t true. If anything, she wishes the boy had more fire. Often, she’s the one pushing him into her games of chase and hide the branch. “Congrats, though. I’ll have to meet them soon.” Em bumps her queen with her muzzle. A playdate between the three youngsters would be most welcome, she thinks. Eldrian has grown up with the deer and rabbits for company – it will be good for him to meet others his age…and species.
The unknown stallion takes her up on her offer to join their small group. He has a quiet aura and a soft voice – so different from Emmerly’s own outspokenness and physicality – that it intrigues the mare. So many of the horses that call the Gates home are all too eager to make friends in their naïve, polite way. And while she loves them for it (she would have long ago set out for the Chamber if she hadn’t) it can be more interesting to draw out the information slowly, to take time to get to know each other. As always, to the warrior mare, it’s all about the challenge. “Ledger.” She tests the name, liking the bluntness of it (in stark contrast to his mannerisms) on her tongue.
The bay colt pipes up again, fueled by his apparent acceptance by all of the adults. “Welcome back.” His bottlebrush tail wags happily, excited to be included in anything and everything he possibly can. He heard the queen-lady mention her children and he’s already thinking of all the wild adventures they can have. He knows a lot about the fringe parts of the kingdom (the hidden places where Mamma Em had raised him away from the others). He likes the Mother Tree and all the willows just fine, but he thinks he’ll miss the deciduous woods and trickling creeks of the borderlands as well. A visit will be in order, at some point, and maybe he’ll have friends to take by then.
Emmerly can see the wheels turning in the young boy’s head. She ruffles his forelock roughly but affectionately with her muzzle (unable to do it any other way). The chestnut surely has many stories of his own, and Em thinks Eldrian will likely have him telling them all in the coming year, should the man choose to stay. She can hear the undercurrent in his words, the line of sorrow that laces what would otherwise be a happy declaration to stay. “It’s seems we are the same in our endeavors to return,” she says, smiling. She won’t ask him to reveal his entire story just yet – that can come later, when they know each other better. Instead, she goes with the simple question. “What is your area of expertise, caste-wise?” The part of her that hungers for battle hopes it will be the army, but she doubts it. She thinks, like her son, this man is meant for diplomacy.
Emmerly
walter x valien