"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
It’s occurred to Mazikeen recently that she is not well-travelled. Many of the lands across Beqanna are unknown to her, seen in glimpses as she flies over them and little else. For someone who thought she would never stay in one place, she certainly dug her heels in when the pack had moved to Hyaline and stayed put. The restlessness she had felt as a filly has returned to her with sharper edges and darker thoughts of how to satisfy it.
She does not know what she is searching for this morning but she hopes whatever it is ends in blood. As though wanting to manifest this, when she enters the forest her coat is a deep red. Her scars are a little less noticeable this way, at least from a distance. Will she see one of her old friends here? Mazikeen cannot decide whether she wants to or not. It could be fun, letting them see her as she is now, or it could be annoying.
There are ways to deal with those who annoy her that she enjoys now, though she isn’t sure it is wise to start feasting on those that know her.
So maybe it is better to be something, someone, they will not recognize right away.
The memories that come to her as she wanders the forest are hazy with her detachment to them. She remembers meeting Wishbone here, the way she had burned with pain when the mare she had just met died before her eyes. This was where she had met Firion for the first time, where she had died and where she had met Reave when she had come here to confront her fears.
None of it means much to her anymore. There’s no lingering affection for the friends she had made, no bitterness, and no fear. These memories may as well be stories someone else has told her for all they matter to her now, and when Mazikeen thinks she recognizes the place she had bled out - she simply blinks her red-orange eyes and continues to walk deeper into the shadows to see what she might find there.
08-06-2021, 07:12 PM (This post was last modified: 08-06-2021, 07:16 PM by Aela.)
YOU'RE ONLY AS SICK AS YOUR SECRETS
Perhaps it had been because Aela had been forced to stay in one place during her foalhood that she defies by traveling as much as she can now.
She's the Seneschal of the Pampas but a title matters little to an aspiring goddess. What Aela wants is something so much bigger, a picture so much broader than mere territories or kingdoms, than just political games. That spark of destiny has always been there, the embers of her ambition glowing beneath her golden skin. The discontent in the South, the steals towards the West - these are just pastimes until she knows that her moment has come.
But until that moment comes, Aela takes advantage of her free time. She delves deeper and tries to understand the changes taking place within her. She practices her powers so that they come quicker, quieter, and then suddenly. There are still plans for the future and desires to be fulfilled but the slender palomino settles on this one: an easy one. She wanders away from the South and considers returning the Field. Another recruit for the growing Flower Court could make this journey more beneficial. But she's grown bored of stealing and the way it drains her abilities. Aela isn't entirely sure that she could even wear the facade of a good recruiter.
Not right now.
So she wanders through the Forest, mindlessly retracing the past like another horse might follow one of its well-worn paths. No, please don't. One memory from the past begs, with visceral fear sharpening the edges of it. Another memory is just soft laughter, something as warm and hazy as the summer day. And then there is something else, something usual that catches Aela's attention. There is someone nearby and the palomino stops, turning her blazed head towards the direction of the presence.
All the memories that Aela has encountered have always had some kind of emotion attached. It was the reason she was so timid as a child. They had been overwhelming and left the young filly reeling. They had left her afraid (until Heartfire had come and then her grandmother had asked why should she be afraid? Why shouldn't the others be afraid of her?) until she had mastered the echoes of the past. But there is something odd about the few glimpses that she senses from the blood-red mare that she now sees. They lack the emotions that often make the Echoes so vivid and vibrant; the feelings that bring them to life.
There are faces that Aela doesn't know but one stands out.
Reave.
Aela comes close enough that the other female would see her golden stripes glinting in the broken sunlight from the canopy above but she doesn't speak. Not yet. She instead projects a memory of Reave laughing in the dim cave in Nerine, his blue eyes flashing brilliantly as they schemed and decided to tempt dare the Fates in Beqanna.
The flash of chestnut in the corner of her eye brings Mazikeen to a stop in her wanderings. But before she can even entertain the ideas of taunting Nashua, she sees it is a wingless mare. Whatever greeting might have come from her, Mazikeen gets no further than letting it float to the tip of her tongue because memories that are not hers are being shared with her. This is not quite the same feeling as when her vision is being tampered with, more along the lines of when she catches Gale’s thoughts in her own mind. The memory projected is enough to interest her and deter her from walking away from the stranger. She finds that there is a small smile quirking up the corner of her mouth when she watches the memory of Reave laughing.
Mazikeen does not remember the last time she laughed so freely - though this does not bother her. What fondness she is capable of finds no fault in the darker, quieter laughs that she shares with Gale now.
“He was younger the last time I saw him.” Mazikeen comments when the memory ends, her head tilting to the side to regard the mare with her steady, red-orange gaze.
There is something familiar about her - Mazikeen can see the similarities with Reave only because she had just been shown the bone-armoured boy. But the golden stripes upon this mare’s legs remind her of two other brothers and Mazikeen’s red ears flick backwards in brief, (mostly) feigned annoyance.
“Is everyone I meet part of the same damn family?”
08-11-2021, 04:57 PM (This post was last modified: 08-11-2021, 04:58 PM by Aela.)
YOU'RE ONLY AS SICK AS YOUR SECRETS
Aela never really knows how one might react to her magic. As a young filly, the memories had been her only way of speaking. They had been her voice and even when she had been mute, Aela had been determined to be heard. So she projected those images into the minds of others so they could hear her.
Some got angry, not enjoying the sensation of their minds being meddled with.
Some were intrigued, because Aela’s projections could be so thorough that they included smells and sounds along with the pictures. She was such a slight mare, that there were those that doubted she had the capability to wield such powerful images.
And some would be indifferent, trying to pretend that the misplaced memories in their heads weren’t there (those were the ones who were always in for a surprise; Aela has never tolerated being ignored).
This horned, burning-eyed mare greets the memory like she might Reave.
She doesn’t bristle against it or lash out at Aela. The red woman - if anything - seems curious, though Aela refrains from prodding deeper than the lingering emotion. Instead, she replies to the stranger with a wry smile and matches her with a tilt of her own blazed head. ”Well, you should go for a visit.” The palomino says, taking a step towards the other horse. ”He’s all grown up now.”
As she comes closer, Aela notices the nearly-hidden scars across the mare’s skin. A fighter, she assumes, rather than a damsel. (Aela much prefers the first one; she has no time for those who cower and cry.) The golden mare only stills when the other mentions family and Aela’s ears flick back as well. They are like a web she can never untangle herself from (apart from Reave) and she wishes she could curse both her parents.
There is a flash in Mazikeen’s mind - the stripes that Aela has always adored about herself are unfortunately shared between two of her brothers - and she has memories of both. But all the images are fragmented and Aela (frustratingly) can't put together the whole picture. She glances at the inferno-hued mare, her earlier amusement vanishing. ”You know Gale and Nashua?”
Reave certainly did look all grown up in that memory that still echoes in her mind, the memory that isn’t hers. She had only seen him clearly once, when he had altered her vision, but she remembers how he had been smaller - a yearling. The same age she had been when she had died in this forest - which had meant something to her back then. Now, she only feels a faint sort of curiosity at the idea of seeing what he has grown up into. “That’s not a bad idea. I think I heard he’s in Nerine?” It occurs to Mazikeen that she’s been incredibly caught up in Hyaline (well, more specifically - she’s done an excellent job ignoring everyone in the world who isn’t Gale). When she had first heard the news that her young friend who helped her on her quest was the leader in Nerine, she had considered going.
But much had happened, and visiting old friends had not been an interest of hers since her last death when she was pieced back together in a new way.
It is a little entertaining to see her feigned annoyance seem to be genuinely reflected in the copper mare, Mazikeen’s bright eyes not missing the way her ears flick backwards. So while the amusement vanishes from her companion, it finds a home in the blood-red mare instead and a small laugh escapes her at the question. Not a full, warm laugh - nothing close to what had been shared of Reave - but there’s a trace of genuine delight.
There are no words to explain how well she knows Gale.
But instead of getting into that, she replies simply “Gale, Nashua, Yanhua, Tiercel. Reave too I’m guessing? You have a similar look.” There was a definite divide, the coppers and the iridescent blues, and Mazikeen is only vaguely curious about what that means. Do they all share the same Cursed father?
She’d been told once that the Curse inhabiting Gale is different than the one of his father, and she hopes that’s the case because she has a feeling this family is complicated enough without asking any more questions.
Better to just avoid thinking about the whole mess, she thinks, so she doesn’t remark on it further for now. The amusement’s faded from her voice now, and it is cool despite the interest she feels. Is this Eyas? Or another sister or relative she's not yet heard of? “I’m Mazikeen.” She doesn’t expect her name to be familiar, but since they are trading names of who they know it only seems appropriate.
"He is," Aela says, feeling a wry smile quirking against the corner of her pale lips.
She eyes Mazikeen again - her brilliant red coat and the faint scars that slash devilishly against her hid - and the palomino wonders briefly if the woman might be capable of stirring a fight or two in Taiga on her way to visit Reave. The Redwoods had grown rather quiet, and really, it could use a little enlivening. The Empath continues to study her newest aquiantance, wondering how she earned such an array of marks. Did she often go looking for trouble?
And the conversation moves away from the troubles that Mazikeen could be capable of to her relations.
Aela tries very hard not to scoff. But the mare not only mentions Gale and Nashua, but Yanhua and much to her chagrin, there is another brother. Tiercel, a name she has never heard before. (What next, she wonders? Carnage hear her, did she have sisters as well?) Her blue eyes narrow slightly as the the other mare mentions that all seem to share a similar look. Her glow starts and rather than letting it shine in the similar way that it does with her brothers, the faint light starts to emerge as the faintest trace of her flame aura as it flickers hazily against her golden skin.
This is a trait has been something that has always been hers, earned in Pangea, regardless of the blood flowing in her veins.
"It's like a plague," she mutters to the horned mare when her delicate ears finally prick forward. Large families in Beqanna wasn't uncommon but it seemed like every time that Aela left the Pampas, there was another sibling for her to find. It makes her almost grateful that this stranger is not another relation. Her lovely head tilts slightly, as her mind flashes with the images of strangers she has never met. Horses like Tiercel, she assumes. "Aela," she replies to Mazikeen, dimming her flames until they extinguish. "You mean to tell you've met all of them?" The golden horse asks skeptically, wondering what her new companion made of them.
Apart from Reave, Aela thinks aloud, "How unfortunate."
The flash of fire around the other mare brings forth a small, crooked smile on Mazikeen’s face. Somehow, she’s never met anyone else that can wreath themselves in fire like she can - and in a strange way it endears the other mare to her. Especially that it comes as a display of annoyance after the list of brothers.
It was an even longer list in reality but the others she only knew by name and had not met them.
Mazikeen nods at the question and then laughs at Aela’s comment, the sound low - sparking a light in her red-orange eyes. “I have to agree with you there, at least for the older ones that share your colouring.” Nashua’s bitterness towards shifters, Yanhua’s bizarre behaviour when they had arrived to take Bolder. Tiercel… she hadn’t seen him since the festival and was content to leave it that way, he didn’t seem as meddlesome as the others. “But the one in the east…” Something else flashes across her expression then but explaining what Gale meant to her had never been easy.
Was it unfortunate that she had met him?
At some point, she must have thought so, but by then she had been so in love and so overwhelmed by her own stubbornness she never would have admitted it.
Now, though he is responsible for most of the scars that mark her, she feels very fortunate.
Words fail, but her eyes change to a vivid shade of lightning blue, perfectly matching those of her mate and king, before snapping back to orange as she watches for a reaction. At this moment she cannot recall if Aela had been mentioned to her but this is not surprising, conversations about Gale’s family had dwindled since the Curse gained full control and Mazikeen simply had not cared enough to ever ask.
08-18-2021, 02:00 PM (This post was last modified: 08-18-2021, 02:02 PM by Aela.)
Aela continues to watch Mazikeen sharply, finding herself somewhat surprised that the horned mare agreed so readily with her. Over the last few days, there had been several conversations about her family - with Cheri, with Obscene - and it had left a sour taste in her mouth. The golden mare has always made her own way in the world, striving to make her own mark, and it's become increasingly frustrating to do that when all she hears is the mention of her brothers.
"Fortunately, I'm a lighter shade than they are." Aela points out. (Prettier, as well, but Mazikeen has eyes to see that for herself.) The two brothers in Taiga were very similar to her, and she had come to learn why: they are her only full siblings, whereas the rest were half. But despite the long list of relations, the Pampas' Seneschal has only claimed one and that had been the brother they had spoken of in the very beginning of their conversation.
Reave was the only blood relative that mattered to Aela, the only one that had bothered to acknowledge her (apart from Heartfire).
She had never known her father. None of her other siblings had ever bothered to meet her. And her mother had given her away to the first nurse mare she could find.
(The Taigan's seem to love their claim of kinship and family, but Aela has never found anything worth claiming from the Northern clan.)
Her mind was turning, trying to think of how this mare would be so familiar with her brothers. A friend of the family? She can glimpse fractured memories from Mazikeen, but no one image above the other tells her anything. And what she finds especially odd, Aela can sense no strong emotions attached to the memories. No longing, no hatred, no sorrow. Just a lightning strike emotion, fleeting like the quiksilver shade of Mazikeen's eyes...
"Gale is quite unusual," Aela says, wondering what this female's connection to her blue-brindled sibling might be. Another attempt to search her mind yields nothing, just patches of Hyaline forest and the overwhelming scent of blood, followed by the slight sensation of an oncoming headache. Intrigued, Aela asks with an arched brow: "Are you... a particular friend of his?"
They doused your soul in water, but the flames raged higher. And they called you devil's daughter, such a pretty liar.
Unusual, of course, did not even begin to cover Gale but it was still accurate. And then the grin that spreads across Mazikeen’s face at Aela’s question is one she learned from that iridescent stallion. It is a predatory grin, a shark’s grin, laced with a dark humour. “You could say that.” Her relationship with Gale has always been difficult to define. There are words she uses when she thinks of him - mate, king, lover - but even these rarely do her thoughts justice.
Friend was feeble, inadequate. The only truly accurate way to describe Gale was that he was hers, and she was his… but these are not the things you say to anyone else.
So Mazikeen simply tells the other mare “I am fond of how… unusual he’s become.” And then simply because she can, and because this is an entertaining point in the conversation to do so, the blood-red leeches from her skin until she is her natural self, until those scars have no chance of being even slightly obscured. The greyish scar tissue frames her eyes, mangles the skin on her chest, and streaks of it are scattered all across her body.
Pride is not an emotion that survived Gale's tampering but something close to it glints in her eyes. These scars are the perfect map of who she is.
She maintains that grin, tilting her head a little to the side when she asks “Have you had a chance to see him recently?” Mazikeen suspects that Aela and her use of unusual know full well what Gale is like now, curse and all, but he had been a different sort of unusual before - kinder, brighter.
08-23-2021, 09:53 PM (This post was last modified: 08-23-2021, 09:56 PM by Aela.)
It had been hard for Aela to sense Mazikeen's memories - to catch glimpses beyond anything more than a moment - and so everything she saw of Gale was fleeting. The brindled pegasus was there, but in what capacity, the palomino couldn't (frustratingly) be sure. But the moment that her skin bleeds from red to white and Aela can see all those scars, she understands exactly what Gale is to Mazikeen.
Their story was written there for Aela to see.
She's even felt that kind of desire once, when a man had held her throat by his pointed teeth, and Aela had lifted her head, taunting him with the exposure of it. (And she remembers shamelessly thinking, that if that was what it took for him to touch her, she would bring them both to blows again and again and again.) The golden mare nearly shivers at the memory, before she buries it again. The markings across Maze's hide tell the Seneschal that while she might not know what Gale is, this mare is important to him.
"I paid a visit to Hyaline recently," Aela shares with the color-changing woman. Her head tilts, as her mind connects that this might be the Alpha of the East, and her expression reveals that she was certainly familiar with Mazikeen's King. Thankfully, what Gale had done to Aela had been remedied thanks to Skandar and the healing waters of his birthland. How many others had he torn apart? Had they all come back as something different? Her blue eyes linger on Mazikeen, wondering if she had been any different when she first met Gale.
Aela finds that she hopes not.
She rather likes Mazikeen's brazen nature.
"Do you often have visitors?" Aela settles on asking, and her wry smile quirks again, imagining what might happen to an unsuspecting soul that crossed the Hyaline border.
They doused your soul in water, but the flames raged higher. And they called you devil's daughter, such a pretty liar.
