"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
Deep, ragged breaths are taken as Beyza teleports herself from beneath the stormy ocean off Ischia to Hyaline. She stumbles when the hard ground materializes under her hooves but manages not to fall as her wild eyes scan the surroundings. It is a quiet, sunny day here in the valley - completely untouched by the dark clouds that she had just left in the east and it takes a moment to focus her eyes in the brightness. A light dusting of snow covers the ground and Beyza shivers as the air cools the rain and ocean water she is soaked with and that drips freely onto the ground.
She’d forgotten that autumn touches the world outside of Ischia differently. The sourness that the chill inspires does not last long as she forces the discomfort away and focuses on her reason for coming here.
There’s a faint tint of pink in odd, streaked patches from where the blood-filled water had been touching her coat when she had left the ocean. She attempts a step but finds that her legs are too shaky to carry her around. So she will search another way.
Although Beyza’s only ever called Ryatah by her name except in her thoughts, she uses that other word now - and scrapes up enough of her depleted magic to send the whisper echoing around Hyaline in the hopes it will reach the right ears. “Mom.”
Her life has been oddly quiet since returning, but there is no peace in this.
If anything it was more unsettling, and had caused her nerves to come alive with tension, anticipating when the tranquility would finally shatter.
When she hears that familiar voice whisper mom, she freezes. Her pulse spikes with fear and anxiety, her mind unfolding all the horrible scenarios for why Beyza would be calling for her. It doesn’t even occur to her that she has never actually called her anything other than Ryatah before, because she has been her daughter, always—even when Beyza didn’t know it. It was not something she had to learn to accept, not even with the fact that she did not actually birth her. She had felt that familiar maternal pull the moment she had seen her, brand new and trembling and being tended to by parents that were not her.
She follows the echo of the voice until she finds her, dripping and shivering, and by then she is breathless and nearly frantic. “Beyza,” her name comes as an aching whisper under her breath, her chest constricting at the sight of her. As soon as she reaches her side she pulls her damp body close, teleporting both of them out of the open and into the protection of a thick stand of trees. Even once they are walled behind the tall trunks and sheltered from the breeze by their full limbs she does not let go, holding her close, trying to radiate all the warmth she can from her own body to her daughter’s.
She smells of blood and saltwater, a mixture that brings forward her own strange memories that she has to force away, but her heartbeat flutters nervously for a moment. “What happened?” she asks her, scanning her for any noticeable injuries. Her pale coat is streaked with blood and though it does not look like it’s her own, this does nothing to abate her worry. “Are you hurt?”
AND IT WAS REAL ENOUGH TO GET ME THROUGH — BUT I SWEAR YOU WERE THERE
Relief spreads through her when Ryatah arrives - whole and safe. It has not been long enough for Beyza to forget the ache and emptiness she had felt at losing one of her beloved parents and the visual reminder that Ryatah is here, back with the living where she belongs, is already a comfort even before the gap between them closes.
She feels small and young as Ryatah pulls her close and then teleports them away from the open chill of the air. Even when Beyza was a filly with too-big powers, she never felt helpless. They were always there to help her - she had not been very old at all the first time she brought Caledonia back to life and when she had first healed the radioactive mare. Her history is peppered with the rash decisions of someone born with too much power.
But this reliance on someone else, this strange vulnerability, does not bother her at all in this particular moment. If there was anyone in the world she felt comfortable enough to lean on, both literally and figuratively, with her energy and magic drained - it’s Ryatah. She welcomes the comforting warmth that spreads through her as she is held. “Just drained.” She’s quick to give reassurances, her voice soft and weary.
The shiver that runs through her now is not from the cold, and she inhales deeply before explaining. “I killed him. I killed Gale.” As she says this, Beyza pulls back to look at Ryatah’s face - worried about what her mom will think of this news. Gale had deserved to die but since murder is (generally) frowned upon she quickly offers up an explanation - as though she needs to convince the other mare that what she had done was for the best before any objection even has a chance to be raised. “Even though you’re back, I couldn’t forgive him for what he did. Couldn’t risk him hurting anyone else.”
This was nothing like the other murders she had committed, there is no remorse in her - but there hadn’t been any for her first either and she had been wrong then. What if she was again? She trusted Ryatah to let her know if her morals had strayed. Her mom had done it before, though it had been more indirect. Beyza's meeting of Este during the eclipse had put a fracture in the strange, twisted view Beyza had of her life and what she had done in it - that meeting had been the first event which then caused a chain reaction to put her where she was now, and Beyza believed she was so better for it.
She isn’t sure what she had expected Beyza to say, but the words that she utters causes her to pull back just as her daughter does.
The expression that shadows her face is nearly unreadable—a true show of confusion, uncertain how she should feel. Her life has always been turbulent, but she had simply accepted that it was the hand she was dealt. Her future had been carved out for her at such a young age in the jungles of that land so far from here, and no matter how many twists and turns she took, she had never escaped it. She was destined, it seemed, for a life of hurt—for love that was not meant for her, for breaking herself to fit into the molds they created, over and over again until she does not remember being any other way.
What had happened with Gale had been both predictable while also wildly out of the norm, breaking the protocol she was so accustomed to.
It had all the right parts, only, he was not the right player. Gale was not someone she was romantically linked to. He was not someone that she would do anything to keep close, he was not someone she would have done anything to please. She was no stranger to fury being unleashed on her when she made a mistake, but it was expected, and she always knew it was coming. She always knew, in the half a heartbeat’s moment when Carnage’s expression would change, that she had moved in error, and she always knew that the punishment was deserved.
She would never want anyone seeking revenge against him (as if it were even possible).
And she would never be able to put into words why that is, and in this moment, when her daughter is telling her that she killed someone that hurt her, she is so grateful that she has never had to try.
Because Gale ultimately means nothing to her, as she means nothing to him, and she still does not know how to feel.
“You killed him?” she repeats softly, and there is no disapproval in her voice, but still a strange kind of disbelief. She closes the space between them again, touches her nose to Beyza’s impossibly white neck as the shock begins to fade and concern once more colors her face. “Are you sure he’s really gone? If he comes back and tries to hurt you—” she cuts herself off abruptly, shakes the thought from her head, refusing to even think it. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says instead, and tries to ignore the clenching in her chest.
AND IT WAS REAL ENOUGH TO GET ME THROUGH — BUT I SWEAR YOU WERE THERE
She’s grateful for Ryatah’s soft disbelief - it makes Beyza feel further away from the monster she had tried to be when she was younger. She is glad that her mother may be surprised to hear that she is capable of murder and so glad to not pick up any disgust or disappointment.
And yet, in a strange way, there is some part of her pride that is wounded at the suggestion that she may not have been an efficient killer. It had not occurred to Beyza that there was any change Gale could have survived or that her efforts could have been in vain. She does not have the energy to magically package that feeling away and store it where it cannot affect her and she can only hope that the natural blankness of her expression helps to hide the brief wave of uneasiness. With care, she does not focus on it enough to allow it to phase her - easily reminding herself that her mother hadn’t meant the question maliciously, but out of concern.
As is made obvious by how Ryatah had cut herself off and then affirmed that she was glad Beyza was okay.
The comforting nudge that Beyza gives the other white mare is at odds with the words she replies with. “If he comes back, I’ll kill him again.” She states this with a fierce simplicity - having absolute belief in her ability to do so. “He won’t hurt me.” Beyza didn’t believe anyone could, her concerns lay elsewhere. “Or you, or my daughters, or anyone again.”
She wants the resoluteness in her voice to radiate out - because although she appreciates the concern her mother is showing, she wishes it were possible for Ryatah to feel how very sure Beyza is that she is fine, and will always continue to be fine, because she does not know any alternative.
“I’m so glad you were home.” She finally says with the return of a smile, still feeling weak and weary but better with the comforting presence of Ryatah with her.
