"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
She travels through the familiar land, she vanished some time ago....though it seems to be something her family is good at. She birthed her last foal, leaving here on Loess with her father. She wonders what the girl is like, does she hold hatred in her heart for Mary leaving?
Though her thoughts are with the young girl, she wasn't here for her, nor for Kildare. She came to visit Castile, surely he would be mad at her....but she was mad at him. A promise he held over her head, and a reward he never gave her, for her loyalty. She should have known better, but truth be told she grew some odd kinship to the dragon king. Though he never held up his end of the promise, she has wondered about him many times, the last time they spoke he was heartbroke with betrayal.
She crosses the border without a second thought, this was her home after all...her head glances around casually, it was much quieter than it had been before. Still, her heart is after Sylva, and she wouldn't stop chasing it.
The grey mare allows a whinny to escape her maw, and she looks for another. She knows that Kildare appearing is possible, but he is older now and she wonders if he holds a grudge against her like Velk had. But she shrugs the thought off, she can't help that others catch feelings easily.
Oh, Sylva.
How you’ve always been the keeper of my wee, withered heart.
But holy wow.
You sure have pissed me off lately.
There’s just no chemistry anymore, no zest.
We need a break, a small separation, a temporary impasse.
Pretty, pretty words and sparkly little lies.
Bottom line is - I’m leaving.
And I’m taking the kids with me.
Well.
I’m pretty sure they’re my kids. I’m nearly certain they fell out of me a little while ago. But I am having some difficulty remembering what they looked like...or their names. Or who the father was this time.
Well anyway, I’m taking two kids with me.
Fuck it all if they’re not actually mine.
They’ll grow to love me someday anyway.
And just like that I found myself dancing across the boundaries of the woods of eternal autumn and into the scraggly harshness of Loess’ turbulent homestead.
Dear, sweet Loess.
You are the cutest, bloodiest kingdom there ever was.
Maybe I’ll kick my heels up and stay a spell.
Wouldn’t that be fun?
I’ve only just settled the minion pair into a small grotto against a hidden ridge when a plaintive call catches my fancy. Only a few minutes in and already the boredom flees with the welcome sound of desperation. I doubt they’d like to encounter the likes of me, but that’s hardly my problem and only theirs. This all the same beautiful fun to me.
“I’d be more quiet if I were you, Dorothy.” I give her a moment to find me where I sit in my feline skin, head tilted at an odd angle and a grin much to wide to be natural. “Or else you’ll wake the monsters.”
It isn't long that she is alone, and much to her surprise it wasn't Kildare who sought her out. Disappointingly it wasn't Castile either, and the words from this mare instantly puts a scowl on Mary's face and a snort escapes her maw.
Maybe the monsters are exactly what I seek. She quickly retorts, but as the yellow and pink mare grows closer Mary's own dapple head tilts, Jackel? They had met once, when Mary ruled Sylva.
She ponders the presence of the mare for a moment, Have you left Sylva out of misery? She laughs at the fact that her home was desolte, because she was stripped from her crown.
She wonders how the mare has fared since thet last met, how long has she been in Loess? Does Loess even know she exists? Jackel always did have a way of being spotted only when she wants.
My lanky tail flicks back and forth, brushing against the scrubby grass known only to Loess. The sound is chafing against my delicately rounded ears. Scraping and gnawing, but I just can’t get myself to knock it off, or rather, can’t get that pesky tail of mine to knock it off. He has a mind of his own, I tell you. But then again, it ain’t no well-kept secret between us that I love a good dose of drawn-out torture.
“Oh?” I ask, giving my head a full shift in tilt to the opposite direction now. So she wanted the monsters after all. Could it be that Kildare she was thinking of a few moments ago? Or the royal lizard himself that she was searching for. Perhaps another friendly neighborhood monster that I wasn’t aware of? They seemed to run aplenty here now, and if it were possible I’d feel a skosh of homesickness. But that’s beyond my realm of possibilities. I ain’t got time for that anyway.
“How perceptive of you to recognize me in my new catty disguise, Dorothy. Was it my lovely, dulcet voice that gave it all away?” I ask, fluttering my lashes flirtatiously and exaggeratedly for some extra, extra flare. I like to really bring the point home like that sometimes.
When she laughs, I do too. I may not get it exactly or maybe its a joke that I don’t understand, but I’ll be woe to miss an opportunity to giggle about something. “Misery?” My laugh tapers off to until it fades away altogether, ending in an impish sneer, “I don’t know her. Do you, Dorothy?”
If they didn’t know about me yet, they soon would.
Jackel seems confused at first...maybe annoyed. She says little until she mentions her new coat, she inquires how she knew it was her.
It's true, Jackel looked different, the last time she was a standard buckskin. Today she has the same golden coat with a lucious pink mane and tail. Mary was no stranger to color changing though, and maybe holding the trait made it easier for her to pick out familiar faces...
Or maybe it was just the fact that Jackel is the only insane equine she got to meet.
She grows closer to the golden mare, her maw reaching out to touch her shoulder. Her eyes lock onto the mares and in the next moment her grey pelt swaps to the same gold coat as Jackel, her mane and tail following into the same pink. Pretty, she smirks as she pulls back her maw.
She laughs, ahh, the laugh that Mary remembers all too well from there last encounter. She asks if she knew Misery, and Mary sneers at the remark. Personally, no, maybe you left because you missed me. She grins once more, because Sylva is not the same as when she and Sinner ran it...Loess isn't even the same as the last time she visited.
