"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
12-09-2020, 12:40 AM (This post was last modified: 12-10-2020, 12:57 PM by lilliana.)
Taiga seems to thrive under the ideal of family.
The Redwoods do not boast great numbers or even ambition (at least in the scope of conquest and empires; Yanhua and Amarine have their ideas of how the next generation of Taigan's could grow and Lilliana encourages it because what comes after should always be better than what came before).
It is with family that she leaves Reave with. Her youngest set of twins remain close by and Lilliana trusts that should any of her children wander too far, either Yanhua or Ama or another Taigan will shepherd them back towards the northern side of the forest until she returns. There has been an abundance of foals romping through the woods this spring and it makes her heart glad; after everything the North has suffered the last few years (Aten disappearing, the Pangean thefts, the Curse, dragon flames), peace is finally taking root.
Peace sinks deep within the ground, sprouting ideas for the younger members and easing the weathered nerves of the older ones. It comes washing in the tides and lingers with the Taigan fog. The only place it doesn't seem to remain is within Lilliana, who presses a gentle kiss into Reave's small brow and promises to return as quickly as she can.
Her journey to Tephra is not a long one. After a few hours, the humidity starts to rise to greet her (and something within Lilliana relishes it; her sleek fire-gold coat glimmers with the growing heat). The Sequoias that group so closely together in Taiga become sparse before surrendering to the jungle vines and large, leafy tropical ferns that brush against her slender sides, something that draws a smile against her dark mouth.
Rising towards the west is the volcano and she slows when the path she travels offers a spectacular view of the sleeping summit.
Lilliana's knowledge of this land is made up of what Warden has shared with her, the son of the former Overseer and current leader of the realm. It's him she seeks today but her path crosses with someone else instead. "Oh," she says, surprised not to find the horned pegasus. The slender chestnut stops to see a dark (and rather elegant) mare standing where she had expected to find the Watcher. "Well you definitely aren't Warden," she says with a breathless laugh towards gold-marked woman and a friendly smile. "It's hard to miss those wings," she teases with an impish grin.
Remember when our songs were just like prayers
Like gospel hymns that you caught in the air?
be the one, be the one to take me home and show me the sun. i know, i know you can bring the fire, i can bring the bones. i know, i know you'll make the fire, my bones will make it grow.
It seems that Tephra thrives under the ideal of family as well. Warrick’s children have gathered beneath the rocky face of the volcano as they once did in their youth. Not only do they share the same home again, but a son of Warrick rules the western kingdom. Wishbone hasn’t met her half-brother yet, but Svedka had mentioned him during their unexpected reunion. She assumes Warden is running Tephra well, based on her pleasant experience in the tropics so far.
While the gold-marked woman hasn’t been avoiding the residents of Tephra, she hasn’t met anyone aside from her older brother. The world has continued to turn in Wishbone’s absence (first when she explored beyond what Beqanna offers, then when her body succumbed to Ivar’s desires and she paced within the realm of the Dead) and the hands of time have erased her name from modern society. Like an artist who frequently paints the same canvas — covering a detailed image with a new one — she has disappeared into the long list of others who have been forgotten in favor of something novel. It doesn’t make it hard to find new friends, but Wishbone finds that there are many unfamiliar faces and very few familiar ones.
She has begun chipping away at the paint layered upon her by settling for the afternoon along a path well-traveled by Tephran residents. The volcano rises in the near distance, and to the east lies the tall forests of Taiga. Wishbone has never been to that piece of Beqanna and part of her itches to explore it. She has already committed to introducing herself to whoever travels along the path first so she locks away her zeal to travel for another day.
Just as Wishbone is doing so, a fire-clad stranger appears from Taiga’s direction. The smile that dances across her dark face illuminates the gold and softens her features. Her amber eyes find the mare’s as she explains how she had been looking for Warden. “He seems to be tricky to find,” she admits. “He’s a brother I haven’t met, but a busy man from what I’ve gathered, so I really can’t fault him for our unfamiliarity.” Wishbone steps closer to the mare, gathering the space between them with the stretch of one long, onyx leg. As she comes closer, she smells the sharpness of pine needles melting into the other’s skin like a warm earthy blanket. “I’m Wishbone. Do you live in Taiga?”
12-17-2020, 01:32 PM (This post was last modified: 12-17-2020, 01:41 PM by lilliana.)
There are many stark differences from this trip to Tephra and her first; that night had been an accident. This day is not. She had wandered too far from Taiga. Lilliana had spent a few days in the tropical jungle searching for Kagerus and had ended up healing Warlight and somehow befriending stoic Warden instead.
This is her first trip intentionally seeking the Watcher but there is no disappointment in finding Wishbone instead.
"So it would seem," Lilliana muses along with her (fellow) gold-marked companion that Warden could be difficult to find. She certainly understands why. She was a leader of a small territory in the North and there never seemed to be enough time in a day; a leader of an entire kingdom surely has less. "Hopefully you can remedy that soon," the chestnut says about her unfamiliarity with her brother. "I never met all my siblings," Lilliana shares with this new companion she's found. She sees no harm in sharing this admission so easily with the other mare. Especially when it might serve as some kind of inspiration for the two Tephran siblings to finally meet. "A drawback of having such a large family, I suppose."
The taller mare closes the distance between them with a smooth and lovely stride, one that Lilliana thinks is suited more for dancing than walking.
It's not the space or the boldness in her step that takes the Taigan by surpise, though. It's the name. "@[Wishbone]?" Lilliana asks, glancing over the elegant woman in front of her. Her blue eyes dance over the figure as if trying to fit the pieces of a puzzle together. There had been a lingering memory or two left behind in Nerine. (And stumbling across memories that weren't her own were still accidental. It always resulted back to the old lessons of her youth where she had been taught: listen to the land. As if the ground below her hooves was capable of feeling, of knowing, of remembering.)
"It would seem we share a mutual friend," Lilliana says recalling more lessons, with a lilting laugh and bright smile, from the days when she had been an aspiring Diplomat for both Taiga and Nerine. "Eurwen has spoken of you before," she explains. One of the Khaleesi's that came before Neverwhere. There had been a string of them, she remembers. Before Heartfire had been Breckin, Eurwen's mother. And before Breckin had been Wishbone. And before that? Lilliana can't quite grasp the name but she remembers that whoever that Khaleesi had been was a grandmother to Eurwen as well.
Perhaps Wishbone belonged to the same family?
"Lilliana," she offers to the black-and-gold mare. "And yes, I come from Taiga." Lilliana considers something before the smile turns impish again. "Forgive me for asking, but how does a former Khaleesi find herself basking beneath a volcano?"
Remember when our songs were just like prayers
Like gospel hymns that you caught in the air?
be the one, be the one to take me home and show me the sun. i know, i know you can bring the fire, i can bring the bones. i know, i know you'll make the fire, my bones will make it grow.
She hadn’t expected so many to recognize her name. In the months after plunging from Death to Life and looking into a reflection with an unfamiliar face staring back, Wishbone had debated whether to create a new alias for herself. The gray world of the Afterlife had melted into a life full of color at her fingertips, gifting her the chance at something brand new. It had taken her time to decide who she wanted to be (and to learn how to sweep away distance without stumbling over her foreign long legs) but in the end, Wishbone has always known she can never be anything but herself.
She has seen how Death has eroded at memories. She had spoken with strangers in the Afterlife who had once been important rulers of long-forgotten kingdoms. Their names had become nothing more than a line to be memorized in a list of ancestors or past kings. And in all the time that had passed since her undoing, Wishbone had assumed her name had disappeared into the fabric of vague remembrances as well.
A glimmer of amusement dances in the corner of Wishbone’s slender, golden mouth. It seems that Lilliana and Quell have both taken lessons in Nerinian history. The onyx mare wonders how this new acquaintance may have memorized the past Khalessi’s, especially while she smells of Taiga and its brisk pine.
Eurwen. The smile grows even larger at the thought of the young girl — who is certainly a grown woman by now. The world continued to turn while she wasted years in the Afterlife, and this thought reminds her of her own children (those twin daughters with a whole world at their petite feet). The joy billowing in her chest deflates softly, replaced by familiar anger that burns in the pit of her stomach. Wishbone has lost the most crucial years with her children; now those daughters are lost among the wilderness of Beqanna and she is unsure if she will ever see them again.
Briskly forcing her wandering attention away from her frustration, amber eyes find Lilliana’s. “Eurwen,” she muses in a sweet, smoky voice. “She was just a child the last time I saw her.” Macaws call in the distance, singing of ashen humidity and summertime peace. The sound reminds Wishbone of her childhood and, as if Lilliana had sensed her thoughts, the other mare’s question further unleashes the memories.
The quick sting and longer ache from the bite of a volcano-stream as she races her father through the forest, leaping just in time to avoid the brunt of the burn.
Her mother’s soft brown eyes as she nudges a young Wishbone into the ocean to clean the day’s sweat and ash and mud from her spirited body.
The golden face of a boy with two fanged teeth poking from his playful smile, even while he persuades her to swim for the sandbar in the middle of the bay.
Wishbone has never been able to control her emotions or her physical reactions to them. She has been much like the ocean in that regard — her waves are tossed to and fro by the undercurrents and winds that drag them from east to west and back again. A sharp inhale cuts through the brief silence in the moments following Lilliana’s question and Wishbone’s subsequent remembering. Wolfbane’s gold-and-blue face stands out, a clear image pressing against the back of her eyes as if Cupid had tattooed him there itself.
Of the reasons Wishbone has returned to her childhood home, had Wolfbane been one of them?
“I grew up here in Tephra.” She turns her gaze toward their surroundings — the comforting face of the volcano, the wide fronds of the elephant ears, the curving path of a lava-stream just past the trail they stand upon — and the memories of her youth dance through her mind. Wishbone laughs aloud; her voice is honey and whiskey, a potent combination of Tephra’s ash and feminine sweetness. “I was on a mission to summit the volcano in those days. My best friend always told me it was too dangerous, but I never listened to him.” Her windswept forelock falls across the gold marking detailed on her face as she swivels her eyes back toward Lilliana. “I guess I’m here to complete that mission and find some new adventures.”
12-26-2020, 07:47 PM (This post was last modified: 12-26-2020, 07:54 PM by lilliana.)
"She has children of her own now," Lilliana adds to Wishbone's comment that Eurwen had been a girl last time they met. It makes her wonder other things - where the former Nerinian queen had been, how she had passed the years between Eurwen being a girl to the spotted mare becoming another ghost lost somewhere along the moorlands. There is a glimmer of something dark across her lovely face - worry for where her spotted friend is because it has been months since she has last been seen - but Lilliana banishes the shadow.
"My twin boys were raised alongside her girls," the smaller mare explains rather whimsically. She and Eurwen had entered that terrifying realm of motherhood together and Lilliana would always be grateful that she hadn't gone into it alone. Those days in Nerine - with Eurwen and her twins playing with Nashua and Yanhua, with Neverwhere and Amarine - are some of the happiest she has known.
Lilliana dwells there a moment, conscious of her memories and aware of the ones radiating off Wishbone. Her gift can be intrusive and as she had tried to impart on Yanhua, they had to be careful with it. It was a delicate balance - like lingering between the pull of the tide and the shore. The more tumultuous the memory, there was the threat of drowning in them as they surged forward. The calmer, more contented ones were easier to fall into. Those memories could be as inviting as the warmth of the summer sun on your back. It was easy to close your eyes and bask in the glow of memories like that; of finding happiness in moments that weren't their own.
A smile quirks against her dark lips because Lilliana can feel the radiance coming off dark-and-gleaming Wishbone. She doesn't press further with her magic. However the former Khaleesi had come to dwell beneath Tephra's volcano, the memories were happy ones.
There is a sharp inhale from her companion and concern furrows her copper brow. Lilliana peers up to the ebony mare from beneath her curling forelock. But it's wiped clean the moment that Wishbone looks out to their surroundings, to the tropical jungle and the imposing volcano. This place isn't so different from the home of her ancestors; the humid climate settles easily around her sleek coat and the jungle plants that brush against her lithe sides feel familiar. They aren't unlike the primordial ferns of Taiga and yet the feel of them reminds her of the clinging vines and thick vegetation of lush Paraiso. The Paradise of her ancestors. It reminds her of so many days spent in the sun; golden days that had been filled with laughter and so much happiness that Lilliana once thought it couldn't be contained in mere mortal shapes.
Their childhood days aren't so different. The gold-and-blue that Wishbone remembers crafts itself into the souls that Lilliana had known all her life. Where Wishbone's best friend is masked, Lilliana's is heart-marked. Remembering Elena always makes her bold, as her cousin always was. The chestnut tilts her head to Wishbone and the smile that tugs forward is the one that often got her into trouble, that had earned her the nickname spark to the flame that was her palomino (blazing) cousin.
Lilliana looks away from @[Wishbone] and towards the looming volcano that waits in the distance.
"Did you ever tell him that maybe he worried too much?" Lilliana teases good-naturedly. The long-legged Tephran seemed more than capable of climbing the peaks and some part of her even supposes that those native-born to this place might consider it a right of passage.
The wind tugs at her wavy mane and she glances back to the dark mare. The thought is ludicrous when it crosses her mind and yet-
And yet, there is a conspiratorial spark in those blue eyes, kindling for the wildfire grin that starts to emerge. "So you've never been to the top?"
Remember when our songs were just like prayers
Like gospel hymns that you caught in the air?
be the one, be the one to take me home and show me the sun. i know, i know you can bring the fire, i can bring the bones. i know, i know you'll make the fire, my bones will make it grow.
Each day spent in the Afterlife had blended together until the hours roamed past her like slow, simple creatures. Time had given her plenty to work with, and she had often found her mind reflecting back on the rosy days of her youth. Her life had seemed simple then, despite its more accurate complexities. She was the daughter of a king, she had been used as an important piece in an alliance, she had let her heart roam wherever it chose, she had spent her days recklessly chasing one adventure after another — all these had felt incredibly ordinary and yet entirely whimsical as a child. And now, as she has looked back, she has watched as they have shaped the woman she is today.
Perhaps her greatest change did not occur in her childhood, but in more recent times. Reflecting back on her youth creates a space of awareness within Wishbone; the woman she is today is certainly not the child she was. Death has given and taken away — wisdom and maturity have been gifted in exchange for carelessness and youthful fervor. Did she still long to strive forward with an explorer’s heart? Certainly. Did she still pursue the dangers of the world? She is less certain of this, mostly because she is not yet willing to return to that cold, gray world.
With time she may grow as ambitious and reckless as she had once been, but for now, Wishbone finds herself acutely aware of the differences between Then and Now.
Her amber eyes are warm with humor when Lilliana mentions the worries of her golden friend. They had spent their childhood on legs strengthened by adventures, and Wolfbane’s had often spent their days chasing after her before she fell headfirst into Death’s waiting arms. And each time (soaking wet on the beach, dirty and sweaty in the jungle, bruised and scraped at the foothills of the volcano) he had scolded her for her delirious aspirations with a look that suggested he would do it all over again in an instant.
“Too many times.” They were sassy and fierce, sharpening one another with iron and fire until they collapsed into a pile of exhausted laughter. But there was hiding too — from a father clothed in unreliable anger — and perhaps that was part of the reason she had never made it to the top. Wolfbane’s father did not love him as Wishbone’s mother loved her, and they had spent many days sneaking along the trails with quick, quiet feet so they were not caught in the blue fire of Longclaw’s rage.
She feels Lilliana’s eyes on the long strength of her legs and a soft smile finds the corners of her gold mouth. “I had shorter legs back then” — as most children do, but she leaves the complexity of her original body unspoken between them — “and it made the trip difficult. Then I grew up, moved to Nerine, and became too busy to try again.” And when she might have been free and healthy enough to try again, the twins and the Plague had decimated her mahogany body until she was only a wisp of her old self.
Wishbone knows the spark that lights in those blue eyes; mischief is a mask she has spent many days wearing. A laugh bubbles up her throat and into the humid ashen air. “Would you like to make the journey with me?” It would certainly be an interesting opportunity to bond further with the Taigan, and perhaps even learn more about the volatile goings-on of Beqanna.
01-02-2021, 11:07 PM (This post was last modified: 01-02-2021, 11:13 PM by lilliana.)
Lilliana has the barest grasp on what the Afterlife is.
She knows the Gates had opened back up. She had learned that horrifying fact the same night that Wolfbane (it, she corrects herself) re-entered her life and she does her best to forget them both. What awaits in the realm after this one is not one she should consider; she is Immortal and it means there will always be a firm barrier between this plane of existence and the next (or so she thinks).
The chestnut mare knows nothing of Death except for what it is like to remain on the other side of it. She has seen the life drain - a soul flee - from a body. She knows what it is now to remain behind while wanting to go after. Brazen's death had been hard; it might have been unimaginable if Warden hadn't revealed it to her. She had thought that they might have been able to prevent it. Lilliana had searched Beqanna, looking for a miracle only to find that they are every bit as rare as myth and legend claim.
This playful banter comes easily for her. Perhaps it because it is her first trip alone in months. As a mother to five, there was often a child at her heels. As the leader of Taiga, there was always something needing her attention. Yanhua and Amarine had agreed to watch her youngest three and now that she is within tropical Tephra, she finds herself glad to have made the trip on her own.
She finds herself even more glad that she has encountered Wishbone today.
Her mind imagines a younger version of this black-and-gold woman - spindle-legged and sharp-boned in the first flush of growth - and this unknown friend. It seemed there had been too many times for trouble and the edges of her dark lips tug again. She doesn't know much of Tephra's history or the dynastic families that claim history here. What she does know has come from Kagerus (and because of that, Lilliana knows more of Hyaline's history than the country that Warrick once ruled). Warden has offered some insight as well and now in the company of Wishbone, the Taigan thinks she has a chance to learn more about their neighbors to the south.
An ear flicks to her long-legged companion as she explains that the treks back then were hindered by shorter limbs and then came life, with all its complexities. Lilliana understands that all too well.
"If you think I can keep up," the smaller mare jokes with a rueful half-smile. But once upon a time, Lilli had been teased for being a cliff-dancer. For being a lover of impossible heights and the thrill of lingering too close to the edge. It makes all the more curious about this volcano - about the way it might compare to the cliffs of Nerine and all the other ledges that Lilliana has walked along in this life. "Perhaps you can share some of Tephra's history along the way?" @[Wishbone] has mentioned nothing that has recently plagued the North - nothing about the troubles in Taiga, the fires, the Pangean attack - so far in their conversation.
And that makes her wonder.
So she offers, "And if you wish, I can share some of the events that have plagued the North over the last few years."
Remember when our songs were just like prayers
Like gospel hymns that you caught in the air?
be the one, be the one to take me home and show me the sun. i know, i know you can bring the fire, i can bring the bones. i know, i know you'll make the fire, my bones will make it grow.
There had been a point in time where Wishbone had felt unique — where the world only had one dancing, reckless girl to focus on. As if she were the brightest star in the sky, burning so brilliantly the rest of the galaxy was forced to dim their lights. At first she had relished in this feeling, in being the only one of her kind. She had yet to meet another child who paralleled her courage and this was something she took pride in.
As the years moved on, she grew lonely beneath her bright glow. Wishbone felt the isolation that came with being the only one, of always taking the dangerous road while the rest chose the safer path. Life has always involved community — from the pack of wolves to the trees in a forest — and connections pull these relationships together. Her wandering heart has had a difficult time finding another soul to cling to, someone who is similar to her in spirit. Perhaps this is why she remains close to Svedka, even now. Her older brother is a kindred soul, filled with zeal for the world and a passion for adventure (though they have both matured and fallen rather sullen beneath the weight of reality).
And when Lilliana says, “If you think I can keep up,” Wishbone feels a connection knot the two women together. The dark mare can sense an explorer’s heart beneath the soft glow of Lilliana’s blue eyes and it brings a wild smile to her gold mouth. “I’m sure you can.” Her voice is amused as she steps forward, mindlessly following the trail ahead of them. Her mind has always retained the map of Tephra and she can clearly see the route they will take to reach the volcano’s foothills in her mind’s eye.
“I would really appreciate that, Lilliana.” Wishbone wonders if the red mare can see past her and into the bones that once felt foreign and unnatural (which now feel as though they are hers, finally). Can she search past her present thoughts and read into the chapters of her life? Does she know that Wishbone has been absent from the North and its obstacles, that she has paced the walls of the Afterlife until the gates broke upon and she forced herself into Life? Beqanna’s magic is unfathomable to the onyx mare; their world gives and takes away and she is curious if Lilliana can scan through her mind to pick out the important pieces. If such a thing were possible, Wishbone would certainly allow her — she has always been an open book — and so she lets down the barriers of her mind to allow her new friend to roam where she may wish.
When the trail splits, her long legs move toward the narrower path to the left. Wishbone picks up the history of her home (or what she knows of it) with ease, as if she has always recited the story of her ancestors. She explains how Offspring, Eight, Malis, and Magnus petitioned for Tephra, the way the kingdom switched between leaders, and the relative quiet that has brought peace to Tephra so far. Wishbone’s voice falls quiet eerily earlier than it might have otherwise, and it is not because the ground slopes upwards to meet the beginnings of the volcano’s foothills.
She doesn’t know what happened to Tephra after she left Breckin Nerine’s throne — nor does she know of the roles and wars it went through in the time between Warrick and Warden. Her eyes might flash with annoyance; she has fallen behind on the history of her birth-home or even the recent goings-on of Beqanna. With a quick flick of her dark, tangled tail to rid her mind of these thoughts, Wishbone says, “So what about the North?”
01-09-2021, 03:34 PM (This post was last modified: 01-09-2021, 03:41 PM by lilliana.)
Her smile tugs again at one side of her dark mouth as Lilliana falls into stride alongside longer-limbed Wishbone. The chestnut's refined face tilts towards the Tephran, already growing more and more comfortable in the presence of Warden's elder sister; it leads to another curiosity about the onyx-and-gold woman. There is very little of the Watcher that she can see in the elegant creature that walks beside her. There are no wings, no glimmering gemstones, no mighty antlers.
Even the regal navy blue that she so often associates with Warden isn't there. It's a honey-eyed sweetness gleaming brightly back at her, with no shadows of the future haunting them. But what about the past?
One curved ear flicks towards Wishbone as they walk, listening as the former Khaleesi tells the history of this ferned-and-fabled place as only a native could. A familiarity spoken with an ease that Lilliana thinks could only one come from someone who had been born here. Something in her aches at that because it seems like she is always longing for home, for a place lost among the mists of time. For each year that passes in Beqanna, her memories of Beyond and the life she lived there become hazier and hazier.
Not so for her time in the Land of the Sunrise.
She can recall each year spent here with painful clarity.
But her present company keeps the darker memories at bay and Lilliana finds it easy to bask in the warm presence of Wishbone. For each step that she takes and the further they wander down this trail, the fire-branded woman leaves some of her heavier worries behind them. What to do about Brazen's memorial will be waiting for her when they return from the Summit. What to do about Popinjay and Warden's vision (but it does linger in the back of her mind, the light going out across Beqanna and her mind keeps reeling about all the things it could mean) will still be at the end of this quest. Where Neverwhere has gone will still be a question without an answer when she returns to Taiga.
The history that Wishbone elaborates is listened to with rapt attention - a pricked ear, blue eyes that brighten at the mention of Magnus (a name she has heard before), an occasional slant of her sculpted head when the other explains the politics of the past. These are parts of the histories of Beqanna that she hadn't known; Lilliana so often only gets fragmented pieces and the stories told from others who had lived through certain current events (sometimes she might get lucky and stumble across a memory but the kinds of memories that are left behind - that have marked the realm of the Living - are often the ones the empath doesn't want to find).
When Wishbone askes about the North, Lilliana slows and can feel her throat momentarily tighten (it feels like a tentacle twining around her neck).
There is a moment that Lilliana looks away from her traveling partner, out towards the ferns and foothills rolling at the base of the volcano. She starts at the beginning, where it is easiest (she speaks the North in its entirety; she has never seen the use of identifying it as Leilan's Isle or Neverwhere's Nerine or her beloved Taiga; borders were the creations of mortals - not Gods - and all they seemed to do was create division).
She starts at the beginning as she knows it: Nerine passed from Breckin to Heartfire to Neverwhere to Popinjay (this is said with an ache, with worry because Lilliana reveals that this is her dearest friend and the current Queen - Rook as she calls herself - claimed the crown after the disappearance of the other). The Isle remained largely quiet until it was razed at the tail-end of Castille's - then-king of Loess - reign. Jesper, former Leader of the affronted island, was stolen by the same offending country. More thefts occurred across the realms. And then the stirrings in the East finally turned into flames that blazed across Loess, Nerine, and Taiga.
Part of Taiga burnt, she says. Nerine has a blasted beach from a small skirmish fought by Magicians and dragonlings and shifters. (Lilliana even elaborates with bits of flickering memories: the charred eastern part of the Redwoods, the scorched stone in Nerine, the smoldering taint of Magic staining the air afterward.) They are fortunate in that they are rebuilding, she reminds herself. "We were fortunate," she reminds herself and to @[Wishbone]. "We didn't suffer casualties as Loess did."
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
As the pair share the history of their homes, the landscape shifts around them. The jungle begins to fade into barren foothills, where the trail crunches beneath them with broken pieces of dark-colored clay. Their trail eventually rises into a sloping trail that winds between large rocky outcroppings and Wishbone is distantly aware that they are beginning to travel up the volcano’s mighty face.
She is too engulfed in Lilliana to point out this fact, and she feels the chestnut’s sorrow as she tells her stories. At first, Wishbone is confused when the northern lands are simply called the North. During her reign, Nerine was its own kingdom and Icicle Isle was its noble counterpart. She nearly can’t remember how Taiga had been involved in the North, and she also isn’t sure how the three lands had gotten lumped into the same title. Had Nerine’s heritage as a fierce, independent society faded into something soft and simple since her leadership?
But she listens quietly regardless of her own musings, only muttering a soft, “I’m sorry” after Lilliana mentions the disappearance of a close friend. There could be many reasons for such absences and Wishbone is familiar with them; she has been her own flickering, unstable light on the surface of Beqanna. The midnight-clad woman lets out a heavy sigh as the images of the fire’s damage flash across her mind. She can see the redwoods’ blackened shapes, and she can hear the chunks of fire-blasted granite falling into the northern ocean, and she can smell the bittersweet aroma of magic clinging to the air.
It makes her heart heavy to see and hear what Lilliana shares with her, and it also makes her angry. Wishbone knows she should have been there for Nerine. Although she spends her time in Tephra now, the granite kingdom had been her home — her responsibility — for several years and it holds a special place in her heart. To think that Nerine has suffered such challenges in the past years and she has simply hidden in the forests brings tears to the brim of her amber eyes.
Their trail is steadily increasing in altitude, and her muscles burn from the climb. Lilliana’s final statement brings Wishbone’s memories to the forefront. She had only visited Loess a handful of times, and they had all been while Wolfbane was the leader. His gold-and-blue face flashes in her mind’s eye again, the proud ivory of his mane ruffled by a warm summer breeze. Wishbone sucks in a slow, deep breath at the way her chest twinges slightly at his smiling, handsome face.
Hesitantly, she pauses at a section of the trail that appears to serve as a lookout. They are well above the treeline now and Tephra lies below them like a green jewel set against Beqanna’s crown. Wishbone takes a moment to enjoy the sight and catch her breath, even while her mind ruminates on Lilliana’s stories. “Loess had casualties?” She is nervous to ask the next question, unsure if she truly wants to know the answer. She hopes Wolfbane hadn’t been ruling in Loess during her absence, that he was tucked away in a place the fires never reached. “Do you know who they lost?”
Remember when our songs were just like prayers
There are many stark differences from this trip to Tephra and her first; that night had been an accident. This day is not. She had wandered too far from Taiga. Lilliana had spent a few days in the tropical jungle searching for Kagerus and had ended up healing Warlight and somehow befriending stoic Warden instead. 