"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
We got older and I should have known that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
Loess can be dangerous territory for dragons who are not Castile’s children, Leilan supposes - and so that’s a place he avoids.
Mostly. Since it’s that big spot that is the middle of freakin’ whole Beqanna.
He doesn’t cross freely; he knows perfectly well that this right has been taken from him by an uncertain combination of unnecessary forces. Nevertheless, he does know, and although from afar he is still the same - up close too, it’s just intermediate onlookers that won’t understand - he has decided he can travel through, but near the border. That is, he’s too lazy to exactly skirt around Loess entirely and precisely follow the border as it was set by scent marks; so, he doesn’t go straight through, but he doesn’t shy away from taking the easier, quicker route if it means crossing the border for a bit, either.
What can he say, he’s just passing through.
Or visiting a friend - he has one, in Loess. One friend and perhaps some family, if the spotted mare was to be believed (but he wasn’t sure about her). And since he hadn’t officially chosen a land yet, well. He couldn’t be a threat either.
The northern border where he skips by then, is a funny one. There is a rocky range here, alcoves and heights dividing the misty climate of the Taiga from the dry meditterranean one of the hill-and-cactus kingdom. There’s a shrubbery here, and a second only slightly higher so you get a two layer effect with a little path running down the middle.
Passing the shrubs, he turns towards where the eastern border is; he remembers trotting it back and forth in the weeks that he was held captive in the kingdom, although back then it did not border Hyaline, but the forest. Ah, Arthas. He wonders what the grumpy old male would have to say to him now, paying only half respect to the borders. The grey would certainly have to say something about it; Leilan would have retorted just as sharply and forgotten all about it, no doubt.
The ice-scaled roan skips his largest part of Loess in the north-east, going south-east towards the forest. The hot season no longer feels like it’s trying to melt him away, but it’s still no joy for the ice-magic based stallion to pass through deserts like these.
But he has been avoiding a political discussion with the new inhabitants of Hyaline much more than he would avoid any Loessian, and so, when he smells the cacti’s diplomat upon the wind, he doesn’t avoid a confrontation.
”Hello again.”
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Oceane]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
"Leilan," her mind registers the ice-encrusted stallion, and while the slightest bit of warmth seeps into the way she says his name, there is no polite smile offered or friendly glint in her amber eyes when he comes into view. She had grown fond of the self-proclaimed nomad after she had happened upon him in the Forest after her interactions with Ivar, had even thought to track him down and visit him in whichever territory he had decided to call home most recently, but after Alcinder's disappearance there was absolutely nothing else on the woman's mind except finding her son, "What brings you to Loess today?"
She asks more as a formality than anything else ─ it's a grasp at straws of normalcy, and it falls flat. He will know by her tone that she's only asking because she feels she needs to, not because she is truly curious. How can she be, when her newborn is somewhere lost ─ stolen ─ in Beqanna when he should be at her side? It's been weeks since she had seen his beautiful blue and white face, since she had heard his laughter in their canyon den, and her demons have begun to tiptoe up her spine to whisper nightmares in her ears.
Tortured, for her own indiscretion. Dead, just like her first two.
A shaky breath falls from her lips and she turns her gaze away from Leilan, not quite sure what to say but not ready to leave him at the border alone. Not ready to be alone, when it's the solitude tells her that her beautiful Alcinder will never come back to her.
We got older and I should have known that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
There is a number of things wrong with Oceane, and it takes a few heartbeats for him to recognize what, exactly. As she greets him without a smile or even a remote gleam in her eyes, he can’t quite make sure how she’s feeling - numb perhaps - but her toneless question, which when directed at him she knows is a pointless one, confirms what her face says.
Her face says nothing, so he does. ”What have you done with Oceane, and who are you now? Pond?” A much smaller body of water, much shallower; because that’s what she is now.
He doesn’t actually expect her to even remotely smile at the incredibly stupid jokes he makes, and so instead, he closes the distance to touch her on the jaw briefly, his scaled nose possibly a little cold, but his intentions warm, for a friend. A bit of comfort never hurt anyone, he thinks, although perhaps with his line of offspring he should know that it is possible - but he doesn’t think of that right now. She is his friend, unlikely as that may be when all his friends could be counted on one hand. His world is divided in two categories: family (mostly adopted these days), and others (the majority, including blood-relatives). He supposes that’s what happens when you build a wall of ice around your chest and leave only small openings - only for those willing to find the holes.
He doesn’t regret it, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to lose the few he has. But what could possibly be wrong with her? Is it similar to the time in the forest? No, much worse - she had been chipper enough to talk to the brown, brown mare, and even be cheered up by his stupidity. So, he retracts and just waits for her - for her to say or do literally anything, or nothing.
There’s nothing else he can do.
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Oceane]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
Her lips twitch reluctantly into something that, if one really stretched, might possibly be described as a sad smile. But it disappears just as swiftly as it had come and she leans her cheek into Leilan's touch, her winged body aching for even just a hint of comfort. The chill of his maw, while surprising at first, settles against the heat of her face and she sighs quietly into him with closed amber eyes.
She feels even colder after the silver roan withdraws and, for a moment, contemplates nestling herself against him just to feel someone in the place where Alcinder should be. But that's not what their friendship is, and so, instead, she lets her lavender head sway dejectedly.
"Alcinder was stolen from me," she breathes, barely audible, as her dull amber eyes look over Leilan's shoulder, "My son. My precious boy ─"
Oceane's voice catches as it tightens around her words. But there's nothing else to tell the ice-encrusted stallion. She still doesn't know where her newborn is or who had taken him. All she knows lies in the scent that had been left behind after his disappearance. The scent of a territory she'd never visited before ─ one that had also wanted Lepis for its own.
We got older and I should have known that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
The gesture is just what it is, a gesture, because he’s currently powerless at whatever ails her. She barely hints of a smile when he makes his joke, but at least she settles with what little comfort he can give her. When she retreats, it seems that perhaps she needs more than what he can give - or, what she wants to take, dares to - and finally she explains.
He almost makes a tssk-ing sound, wondering a few things at once. One, why steal a child, two, could she not have followed to stay with him, three, how did she have a child anyway, with who - no scratch that. ”When?” he asks her, his chocolate eyes considering her closely. If there’s anything he can do, he wonders… and why has nothing been done yet? ”Was there no negotiation started for him then?” Usually a child was used as leverage… but who knows. He’s never actually invested in politics, and perhaps that’s why his hide is still whole. One has to has thick skin or be willing to just let go of everything to survive the politics of Beqanna, and he was of both sorts - but not stupid enough to involve himself actively. This diplomat though, she got the worst, it seems.
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Oceane]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
A few seconds pass after she has spoken her truth. Seconds that weigh heavy between them, where Oceane watches for Leilan’s reaction with red-rimmed eyes and a hollow ache in her chest. It takes the ice-stallion a run around the spectrum of emotions before finally he vocalizes. When? The opalescent woman purses her lips together and shifts her gaze away from him, back in the direction of the canyon she had spent her time with Alcinder before ─ before.
"At the end of Spring. He was barely more than a few weeks old, Leilan, and they took him from me." Her voice quivers despite the attempt she makes to sound strong. When her gaze returns to meet his blue eyes, hers have begun to silently bleed the tears she has been holding in. "No," she says meekly and with a pained twist of her lips, "No negotiations. I don't even know who has him, or if they've─"hurt him. Killed him.
"You travel often," she says, suddenly a bit more hopeful, "Maybe you have seen him?" She describes the young boy and his lovely feathered wings, the opalescence of his coat, the pattern of his blue-and-white paint. She tries not to feel too hopeful ─ there is a chance that whoever has taken him has begun to brag about stealing the Loessian King's son, but there is also the chance they have remained tight-lipped about it ─ but her erratic emotions make it nearly impossible to rein them in.
02-19-2020, 11:19 AM (This post was last modified: 02-19-2020, 11:25 AM by Leilan.)
We got older and I should have known that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
Fuck, he’d forgotten how much he hated politics in general, but now there’s infants being involved too? Ridiculous. But then, since he’s not participating, there’s little to nothing he can do.
And still she comes to him? No, she comes to just about anyone that she feels she might trust. Places her tracers everywhere in hopes that one of them will find the kid. Slightly awkward, but not so weird… just weird considering most Loessians wouldn’t trust Leilan with any information last time he checked (not that he usually did anything with politically-related information at all), nor would anyone really vouch for him other than Jesper (far away), Beryl, or his ex-wife… once… or maybe Eurwen. Nevertheless, it’s not like he couldn’t be trusted with kids.
Oceane honors her name and it upsets him. Tears are visibly forming in her eyes, but a sudden hope that maybe he’d seen the kid - he of all people - stops her, if briefly, temporarily. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have known what to look for, or who to call. So, he shakes his head in denial of her first question, painfully aware that she might actually start crying right then. But she’s found herself a spark of hope in his wandering and she rambles on about her boy, what he looks like, what he sounds like; no detail is spared just in case.
It’s not like he enjoys any woman crying, let alone a pretty one, let alone one he likes. And so he will indeed keep her in mind, will look out for her even though he thinks it will be futile. ”Don’t let your rivers run dry, Pond. If I see him, I’ll make sure he gets home.”
She has his word on it. But really, what are the odds?
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Oceane] I mean really what were the odds, lol
We should probs end it here
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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