"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
01-07-2020, 06:49 PM (This post was last modified: 01-07-2020, 06:50 PM by elio.)
elio
gone was the way we were, just like the days we'd burn
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever thought?” Elio calls up to the birds peering irritably down at him. His gray eyes smile with some bitter and wry secret; and when the birds do not respond he simply untucks his wings and flaps them until the petulant little creatures are uprooted.
With a blink the crimson appendages are made invisible, and Elio hugs them tight to his sides.
He thinks that the worst thing he has ever thought is that he wishes his father will never come back. And when he thinks about what he previously thought, he realizes he still currently wishes for that blasphemous thought and . . . Elio shakes his head anxiously, a body movement that one might consider his signature, considering how often he must shake such vicious ideas from his head.
“Man . . .” he whispers, then leans a tired forehead against the wrinkled tree trunk. The sun is warm and pleasantly juxtaposed with the cold wind. This peaceful winter day is not lost on Elio—for its reality sits regretfully in the forefront of his mind—but it is only not lost on him because he wishes to enjoy it.
She thought, perhaps, that she might stay in Taiga; it was, in its own way, a home of her own making. But that thought had quickly left her head. She liked Wolfbane quite a bit—enjoyed the way that he could teach her how to shift and change and could still best her in a game of wrestling—but that didn’t change the fact that her heart was not one easily anchored. It was too curious, too free, too constantly changing.
So, instead, she enjoys her time exploring the world around her.
She spends most of her time in the common lands—especially the river where it roars the loudest—but she has no qualms about entering into the kingdoms and territories at her leisure. She finds the idea of the borders completely trivial and more than just a little silly and therefore ignores them outright. One of these days, it would get her in trouble, but so far, she has managed to escape any overprotective soldiers.
Today though, as she saunters into Loess, she hears the cry of a boy about her age. Curious, she angles her head toward him, face framed by the forelock and mane she grows out just a little too long and then walks over to him. When she is close enough, her brows rise just slightly as she sees him lean against a tree.
She’s never known a sadness like he clearly does.
It’s fascinating in its alien nature.
“I don’t think I have ever thought something truly terrible,” she muses, answering the question that had first caught her attention, her golden eyes studying him without blinking. “What about you?”
01-14-2020, 07:56 PM (This post was last modified: 01-14-2020, 07:56 PM by elio.)
elio
gone was the way we were, just like the days we'd burn
The last thing Elio expects is to be interrupted while chatting with the birds. He knows that talking at creatures that cannot talk back is not the most . . . sane action, but he usually sits in the comfort of knowing no one is watching. Naive, yes, but Loess is large and the pegasus cannot say he cares for the thoughts of its residents.
Elio whirls to peer at a pretty girl that had obviously been watching him from the beginning. It is clear that there is no way out of this, and the violence that his heart sometimes longs for begins to claw ugly hands up his throat. He swallows that anger born of fear, though—remembering what comes of those that give into their selfishness. He is a stoic, thoughtful creature; though not kind, he is unwavering and moral.
And that is why when Elio meets Alaska’s gaze, it is just as unblinking and steady as hers. He lets the silence stretch for a few moments longer before answering.
“I find it hard to believe someone can walk this earth and not think anything terrible.” Jealousy tears viciously at his searching heart. He wishes to know what it feels like to not grapple with anger and fear as he does. It is not all he has ever known but the pain has painted even his earliest childhood memories in a new light.
“I know that I certainly have,” this he adds with a soft, rueful smile. “But now I’m curious. How do you not think anything truly terrible?”
Perhaps it’s not that Alaska hasn’t thought anything terrible. Perhaps, instead, it’s that she simply has a looser concept of the word—her world painted in broad stokes of grey. She has never learned to grapple with the worlds of good and bad the way that so many of them have. She has never had to learn the gravity of consequences or the way that the world would judge your actions upon a scale as though there was only one way to measure it. Instead, she grew up wild and, mostly, alone.
She learned the way of nature that was messy and infinite and defied boundaries.
She learned the way death could be clean and could feed the next cycle of life.
She learned the merciful way to cut a throat and that you could feel joy and pride in it.
There are no ties to weigh her down and no relationships to complicate the perfectly simple way that she lives—and even the one she has brings her freedom in the same way that it brings him pain.
So she tilts her head at his disbelief and then rolls her ivory shoulders, the crimson of her unnaturally long mane ruffling slightly with the movement. “Just because you find it difficult to believe doesn’t make it any less true,” her silver voice points out, although there’s nothing cruel in it—nothing but the simple truth of it. Her lips pull slightly into a frown when he admits his own problem but it is fleeting.
“I don’t know, there are so many other things to think about.” She doesn’t realize just how different it is the way that she thinks—the endless wilderness of her mind, the uncaged potential, unsullied by the world and the politics and the hurt. “Why think something terrible when I could think of flying instead?”
gone was the way we were, just like the days we'd burn
If Elio knew that this stranger has better memories with his father than he does, he might rear his head in surprise and rebuttal. He might ask her how is it that someone that steals another’s father not EVER think something terrible. He might let the bitter anger that wants to eat him alive finally chew him up and spit him out.
But Elio doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how wonderful a man Wolfbane made. He doesn’t know the legacy that sits atop his shoulders. He doesn’t know that there is endless love there, between his father and his father’s children.
Elio can learn a thing or two from Alaska. Maybe she can teach him how to let go, how to let the black and white mingle just enough to make gray. She looks so free, standing there with unwavering, open eyes. The way she carries herself speaks of the type of kind wisdom the universe can create—the exact opposite to the bitter wisdom Elio possesses.
Perhaps Alaska will tell Elio, with that genuine and true wisdom, of all the great things his father offered her. And perhaps Elio will forgive.
Though for now he observes her with stormy gray eyes, unaware of the way the universe connects the pair. He smiles shyly and shuffles his two front hooves. Elio considers revealing the invisible wings at his side, dragging his gaze from Alaska’s eyes to the blue sky and fluttering clouds.
“I don’t know,” Elio finally admits. “I guess I have a lot to worry about. And I haven’t been anywhere other than Taiga and Loess, so . . . there’s never been much to think about.” He doesn’t know why he keeps talking, but he does, little bits and pieces of his secrets pouring from his mouth. “There’s always been a lot to worry in Taiga, but now that I’m in Loess . . . I have even more time to think.” Elio shrugs and blinks eyes he does not realize are zoned out on the grass to the left of Alaska. He looks back at her in panicked surprise and embarrassment, then swallows.
More introspective, more calloused, more kind—and she finds that the contradictions that tangle around in his belly are interesting enough to hook her, enough to keep her golden eyes trained on him. She wonders at the things that make him up, that keep him shy enough to shuffle his feet, distracted enough to stare at the ground instead of her face, and hurt enough to open up to a practical stranger.
She has never felt such burdens before and it feels exhausting—
but, she cannot deny that there is something intriguing about the depth.
Content to observe for the moment, she simply breathes in and out as he works through his thoughts, more curious about his idiosyncrasies than offended by them. So when he finally does jerk his gaze back to her, she lifts a brow and just smiles. “Do you always apologize?” she questions, tilting her head to the side before shaking her head, deciding that she doesn’t really care to know if he does or not.
“Why don’t we go somewhere else then?” she finally asks, brightening at the idea of an adventure with him. “We could go to some of the common lands if you’d like—those are fun.” Her grin turns a little more mischievous then, something dangerous flashing in her bright eyes. “Or we could sneak into one of the other kingdoms. I know they have borders and what not, but I almost never get caught.”
At least, she hasn’t before.
But it was a lot easier to do when you could just shift into a bird or a squirrel and scamper away.
The challenge of trying to go undetected as herself was too delicious to ignore.
![[Image: elio-by-dozymare-ddo34i6.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/Hn9wnYb7/elio-by-dozymare-ddo34i6.png)
