[private] i feel a bad moon rising | elio

[Lepis]

again you’re gone, off on a different path than mine i'm left behind wondering if i should follow This conversation has been too-long delayed, and each time she had put it off the weight settled deeper in her belly. Finally the piebald mare can take it no more, finally she can stop rehashing the points of an discussion that is almost a decade old. ’The spring they turn two’, they’d agreed, when they’d be old enough to really understand what it meant. Lepis has been a part of this only three times before, and she’s never been the one to start it. What if she forgets something? What if she can’t properly explain and he doesn’t understand? Her role has been to listen to the recitation of history, to add the appropriate emotions to enhance the gravity of what the children are being taught. What if she can’t do it by herself? The cocktail of emotions that comes with that last worry is what has so delayed her. Lepis has no antidote to it, had wept and sighed and yelled into the empty canyons of Loess to no avail in an effort to free herself. There is something to be said for closure, Lepis thinks, and something to be said for the lack of it. Today she takes a deep breath, and steps out into the sunshine. It is early morning in her favorite place in Beqanna, and the sunshine on her face is warm. The water trickling from the rock at the mouth of her shadowed overhang is cold and fresh, and the orange tree a few paces away always has ripe fruit this time of year. Her belly is too knotted to eat, the conversation to come taking up seemingly tangible space. Having told Elio where and when to meet her during their last encounter, Lepis arrives before her youngest sun. The shadow of a slippery elm and a trio of majesty palms mark a spot that will remain cool even during the midday heat. This is not a short conversation, Lepis knows, and would rather not chase the shade as they might otherwise need to. A Loessian summer is not something to deal with without something between one’s body and the sun, after all. Shaking out her wings, the dun mare settles herself, but keeps her senses alert for Elio’s arrival. LEPIS i’m the one who sees you home-- but now i’m lost in the woods and i don’t know what path you are on

@[Elio]

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

Elio has been toying with his invisibility ever since his encounters with Alaska and Darkling. To meet a pair of souls so free of responsibility in their own unique ways . . . his heart beats wildly at just the idea of it. So, when they parted Elio got to thinking, Why don’t I use my magic more? Besides healing a few scrapes and bruises and hiding when a predator is nearby, the winged stallion hardly exercises his power.

Invisibility is quite a power to have. Elio knows this and perhaps that is why he is so hesitant to use it. The world still exists in black and white, but . . . just a tiny bit of gray mingles in, now. Like using invisibility to spy on conversations that might aid in finding his father. Or practicing his stealth on little forest creatures so as to make sure he is prepared for anything. Games . . . just games, he tells himself. There’s no reason my morality has to swing harshly in either direction. He is not a neutral creature, absolutely not—but that wiggling compass of his certainly has the ability to point to militant morality.

(Morality at all costs.)

So, Elio is invisible when he first takes flight. He knows now is about the time to meet his mother, but he can’t resist the thrill of the spring air against a body he cannot see. The pegasus flaps lazily in that direction, spotting his cream and navy mother and circling above her for a few moments.

Elio is getting better at flight (his wings being something he has been playing with recently, as well), so he attempts a harsh dive that ends with a rough landing. “Oof,” Elio exhales, prancing in place and shaking out his mane. “Hey, Mom,” he greets with a handsome, lopsided smile, then starts. “Oh!” A laugh peals from his throat and suddenly he is visible again. “Sorry.”

[Lepis]

staring at the ceiling in the dark same old empty feeling in your heart Some habits die hard, and for that Lepis is grateful. Though her heart skips a beat-  perhaps three – at the disembodied voice, her blue-grey eyes had already seen the displaced dirt of landing and caught the scent of her youngest son. The natural surprise is replaced with patience. Meanwhile, she reminds herself that he is the fifth of her children with the habit of popping out of thin air, and that her true patience would have been deeper if it had not been rubbed thin over the past decade. Though the calm is forced, the fondness that blossoms in her chest when Elio does finally appear is genuine. Her grey eyes meet his with a bright smile, and for a moment she forgets entirely the stressors behind this particular meeting. She embraces him, somehow still surprised to find he is taller than she, and smooths a few wayward locks of his red mane before she pulls back. The attempts at grooming is futile, she knows, flight will surely tussle and tangle them in short order. But it calms her, and very little does so naturally. “I’d score your landing out of ten,” she says with her own smile that crinkles along the edges of her eyes. “But unfortunately I wasn’t able to see much of it.” She doesn’t seem surprised by his invisibility, a gift that she suspects he might have only recently discovered, though the reason shortly becomes clear. “You must have inherited that from your father.” Lepis rarely mentions Wolfbane. No, that’s too lenient: she never mentions him, at least not to her children. That she brings him up now, so lightly, is perhaps a testament to the inevitable healing brought about by time. If it was so, however, it does not remain, for it reminds her of the reason they are here, of the task she must perform. “Lio, there’s something about your father that you need to know. He is dangerous, but there is a reason for it.” The stoicism she projects to herself keeps her voice steady. This is the easy part. What comes next is hard. She perseveres. The tale of the curse – from Tiberios all the way to Wolfbane – spills out quickly, though she does her best to cover the most important aspects. That Wolfbane is not Wolfbane, but rather a creature cursed. That he is unpredictable and that as time passes he will become even more so, will become crazed and violent and a threat to them all. “There is no cure,” she finishes, “not one that your Father knew, not one that a magician could find.” That she means to pin down a second magician and that she had braved death to question Heartfire she leaves out. She does not need Elio to worry about losing both parents. Now she waits, for the questions that she has come to expect. Will they come though, she wonders? Before, it had been a tale for the children, a fairytale curse that Daddy’s family had, but that he surely never would. Pteron and Marni had even played ‘Longclaw and the Wolf” when they were growing up in the Pampas – that their game would become reality is something that a younger Lepis had never imagined as she watched them tussle. @[elio] LEPIS staring at the bottom of your glass-- hoping one day you’ll make a dream last but dreams come slow and they go so fast

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

Elio might feel hurt, if Lepis exposed her irritation. He is a sensitive creature, even as his morality molds him into a rigid statue. His mother means more to him than some silly teenage joke, and his strict nature taught him that the room for jest is slim.

“Maybe I did,” the golden boy murmurs in response, casting uncomfortable eyes away Lepis and into the hardy bushes that labor beneath the sun. The jealousy and pain that has haunted him his whole life wells like a flood in his throat. He wants to lash out, to tell her that he is nothing like his dad and even if he was, how the hell was he supposed to know? Tears might have pooled in his eyes if he hadn’t reined in his emotions a while ago. If he hadn’t gotten used to reacting this way to every mention of Wolfbane.

The attention Elio had given his aching suddenly shifts at a second mention of his father. He drags stormy eyes back to Lepis and leans to one side. There is a miniscule amount of surprise as the curse is explained, but Elio doesn’t show it in his stony face; and he can’t even say that he feels pain.

“Do you know where he is, then?” is Elio’s first question, once again sending his gaze to those bushes he feels as hardy as. He suspects she doesn’t, or she would be out hunting him at this very moment. “He’ll come after one of us?” is his next, concern furrowing his brow. Anger sits behind his concern—because he knows that he must not be good enough to be hunted, either. Surely he’ll go after another of his siblings, one he has a stronger bond with.

Or maybe he will come after Elio, for the exact reason Elio thinks he won’t come after him.

Either way, he suffers all the same.

“I want to help find him,” is the last thing he says.

@[Lepis]

[Lepis]

staring at the ceiling in the dark same old empty feeling in your heart That she has raised a child so sensitive is a puzzle to Lepis. No, not that he is sensitive – they all knew their emotion better than the average creature – but rather that he is so easily swayed, so affected by what is said to him. The discomfort in her eyes brings worry to her own. It had been meant playfully, lightly, and yet she feels as though she’s accidentally buffeted him with a wing rather than told him where his invisibility had come from. A better mother might have apologized, might have explained what she had meant. Lepis does try to be a good mother, but there are some things that she cannot do. Apologizing for an imagined offense is one of them, and so she allows the discomfort in his eyes to remain. He will learn someday, she thinks. He will learn that being wounded once – no matter how large the scar it leaves – is not indicative of an entirely violent world. A lesson his father might have taught him, she thinks, had he spent the earliest days of his curse seeking her help rather than seducing another woman. (Accepting that the curse was inevitable from the beginning is yet another thing that it seems Lepis cannot do). Elio asks if she knows where Wolfbane is, and Lepis shakes her head. There is only so much searching one horse can do, and that is even less when the one she hunts is as prone to change his shape as he is his color. Her son asks if he will come after them, and Lepis pauses. “He might,” she answers, “But there is no way of knowing.” I want to help find him, Elio says, and the mare smiles despite herself. Of course he does. He might be a puzzle to her at times, but there are some things that she is sure of, parts of herself and her former husband that she recognizes even when they are troublesome. “That wouldn’t be safe,” she tells him with a shake of her head, though it is clear from her expression that she does not intend this to end the conversation entirely. “But you could help another way, help make sure that we are prepared when he comes.” She waits, knowing that what she has to propose is not as thrilling as a hunt. If he seems amenable she tells him, clear instructions that might serve to mend a rift that Wolfbane has caused. @[elio] LEPIS staring at the bottom of your glass-- hoping one day you’ll make a dream last but dreams come slow and they go so fast

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

Well, I’m not doing that, is Elio’s immediate thought. He masks his displeasure effortlessly, wondering if his mother truly thinks his curiosity and determination will be tempered. Elio takes proudly after his mother in this regard: headstrong and driven, steadfast on the path he finds is most fit for them all. This thought quirks a smile on the left side of his mouth, one that manages to twinkle suggestively in his eyes.

Logic sets in before Elio can respond, and he knows even if it is begrudging that he will do what Lepis asks of him (though perhaps that can be supplemented with his own investigating?). The half-smile falls as he leans to one side and Elio makes a playful show of weighing his options.

“All right,” is Elio’s concession. “What can I do?” His expression goes from mildly playful to stoic and attentive. Whatever his mother has to say will aid in what searching Elio does for himself. Before Lepis can respond, though, he hastily adds, “I can do whatever needs to be done. It won’t bother me.”

What a terrible lie to tell, but Elio doesn’t know this yet. Oh, it certainly will bother him. It will bother him until the day he dies, and he knows this in the back of his head—not a true thought or knowledge, but a sensation that sours his gut and kicks up old dust in his mind. What actions Elio takes while looking for answers and protection will last a lifetime. The truth is that he doesn’t have what it takes to handle this well; but, really, does anyone? He justifies his mindset this way: if his mother struggles, then it only makes sense that he will struggle, too.

Nevermind Elio’s naivety and denied impulsivity. Nevermind the personality and life he has yet to develop.

I’ll do whatever it takes.

@[Lepis]

[Lepis]

staring at the ceiling in the dark same old empty feeling in your heart Just as Elio is wondering if Lepis thinks him so easily tempered, his mother wonders if her son forgets that he is the seventh child she has raised. She knows that twinkle in his eye, recognizes the way his mouth twists up. There is so much of his father in him. She’d been lucky with Pteron – the rest of her brood have been far too headstrong for their own good. The dun mare scowls at him, but it is quite tempered by the smile that she does not keep from the twitching at the edge of her mouth. His concession is met with suspicion, though her brow does smooth in admiration at quick adjustment he makes, her expression displaying a mixture of pride and mild exasperation. Whatever needs to be done, he says, unaware that the only way to truly end this might be to destroy his father. Lepis, though entirely aware of this, has not yet accepted it. There are other avenues that have not been explored yet, possibilities that might work. Wolfbane had managed to ruin one of them already by disguising himself as a greyed unicorn, but perhaps this is her chance to try again. Perhaps. No harm in trying, after all, and this is a task without much inherent danger (at least if rumors are to be believed). “Go to Nerine,” she tells him, “and find the magician Brennen. Ask him what he knows of curses and ways to control shifters.” If her earlier plan had worked, she would know this already. Stealing Brennen and Jesper had seemed a simple task. The magician would have been released after sharing what he knew, and Jesper would be released after that knowledge had been used to capture Wolfbane. But Brennen had not been captured, and Lepis had little use for the leader of an empty island in the long run. “And remember: You heal quickly, but you are not immortal” She reminds him, and though she means it in caution, her voice catches as she reaches out to tuck a lock of crimson hair behind one gold-tipped ear. That is a lesson that Lepis had learned in the most terrible way, and she knows herself well enough after these years to know that she cannot learn it again. She has not hidden the loss of Gale from his younger siblings, his death both a tragedy and a warning to her too-bold children. When she pulls back (after smoothing just one feather, maybe two) at the base of his left wing, she manages a small smile, enough to reassure him. “You come back to me in one piece,” she says, “Or I will know why.” The kiss she presses to his forehead is one for the small colt he no longer is, and though she must stretch to do so it does not dissuade her. For all that he is a stallion grown, some of her will always see him – see all of them – as the wobbly-legged children they had once been. Letting them go has never been easy, and Elio most of all. Its time though, she thinks, and if she must provide herself a bit of acceptance that is only understandable in such a situation. @[elio] LEPIS staring at the bottom of your glass-- hoping one day you’ll make a dream last but dreams come slow and they go so fast

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

Deep in the Taigan woods lies a bright-eyed boy six feet beneath the youthful roots of a redwood. Nothing more than a colt’s bones, he is returned peacefully to the earth while the rest of Beqanna rises and falls.

Elio feels like that sometimes. Deaf to the world and blind to history as it is made. He exists mostly in his head, observant and quiet and oh so contemplative. He wonders what it would feel like to dig that child up, to really pick apart why he feels the way that he often does: lost. It’s not exactly that he doesn't analyze his every move (because, oh, how he suffers beneath the pinch of his invasive fingers), but that he subconsciously knows once he unearths those boxed up parts of his childhood, he’ll find a forgiveness he’s not ready to give.

Lost, Elio thinks, only half-hearing what Lepis wants of him. Guilt wells in his throat and he digs a front hoof into the soil beneath him. He has no business feeling lost with a mother so dedicated to her family, and when he looks in Lepis’ eyes and really sees her, he wonders if she would feel hurt to know how he hides his loneliness.

“I know,” Elio distantly responds to Lepis’ warning. A weak smile lifts his lips. The smoothing of his hair and settling of his feathers brings a child’s peace smoothly tucked over his heart. Such simple shows of affection remind him of being six months old and peering up at a mother streaked by golden sunlight, face crinkling with the joyous laughter of a parent surprised by their child.

“I’ll come back in no more than three pieces,” Elio teases. When Lepis reaches to kiss his forehead, he leans down to make it easier for her to reach. His weak smile glows a little brighter.  “Love you, Mom. You’ve always been a good parent,” he adds slowly, briefly glancing down at the ground. While Elio feels sweet with his mother’s affection, the air still feels heavy, and he thinks she should hear now, especially, how she did everything right by him.

[Lepis]

i feel
a bad moon rising

"Two of them’d better be lost feathers" she tells him without hesitation, the banter both familiar and reassuring.

“Of course I have,” Lepis responds in a matter-of-fact sort of way, having never considered the possibility that she would be anything less than an ideal parent. Though she is certainly narcissistic, it has rarely impeded her ability to mother her children. (There’d been the one mistake, when she’d not thoroughly vetted that feral throwback Pteron had fallen for, but the boy seems to have recovered fairly well. He’s eating again, anyway, even if he never stops for long on his search.) Overall, Lepis is quite sure she’s been the best parent, much as she is the best at everything she attempts.

It is a pity that she has made some less than perfect decisions in the past, but it is quite easy to pretend those had never happened. Lepis no longer associates with anyone willing to question her decisions, and while she had expected an immense satisfaction from that upon ruling once more, the emotion had been remarkable underwhelming. She is, however, quite satisfied with the fire-haired youth in front of her, as well as with the effort she has put in to making him so. She smiles at him fondly when he looks up from where he’s lowered his head for her to reach.

"I love you too, Lio. You be safe." And with a smile and a soft nudge to his shoulder (why are all her boys so tall?), she sends him on his way.

n | l

@[elio]