"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
Beyza is becoming accustomed to Beqanna’s changes - there’s something almost soothing about it. The seasons rotate and change on a yearly basis and, every few years, the land changes too. Part of her still craves some consistency, some peace, but this time the changes draw her out of herself. She is curious and feels a thrum of excitement from the unknown.
The land she visits is where Hyaline used to be but it is noticeably not Hyaline. The lake is the same but the terrain has changed. Beyza takes her time travelling through the new-but-same mountains, choosing to cross them on the ground instead of flying overhead. Afternoon is beginning to give way to evening as she passes through, the shadows deepening in purple hues and causing the faint glow of her body to stand out a little more.
Beyza knows full well she’s hoping to see Ryatah here, to get that confirmation that her mother is fine after these latest changes. When her white eyes scan the slopes they are expecting to catch on a familiar gold-haloed figure. Her attention is half on the look out, half on taking in as much as the scenery as she can, as she continues to make her way down towards the lake.
Being back in the Dale was easier than she had expected. Sure, there were endless memories, everywhere she turned: this part of the meadow was where she’d first met Ramiel, as children. This clump of trees is where she had told him she would stay, for him. These bushes are ones Sela always popped out of to startle her, then she would throw her head back laughing. This hill is where they would sleep, intertwined, even as their family grew with every child: Sela, Kha, Sabrael.
Before, she would’ve shoved the memories down, pushed the sadness and hurt away until she felt nothing.
Once, she had been a weapon. Sharp and lethal.
But now she has been blunted, smoothed, by age and death and love and time. It had only taken a hundred years.
Since returning to the Dale, she’d found herself a bit restless, unsure of what to do, so most of the time she found herself exploring — maybe this side of the forest would give her an answer. Maybe this rocky climb would tell her what to do. So far, she’d been unsuccessful.
Although largely prefers to keep to herself, the lake had still always been her favorite. Somehow, it was even more beautiful than she remembers, clear and blue and inviting. It had once been a meeting place, likely because of this and its proximity to the land’s lowest border.
As the sun sets on another day of restless exploration, Ea finds herself heading to the lake for one last drink before she settles elsewhere for the night. She breaks through the trees into the opening and sees out of the corner of her eye a glowing white figure. She stops, turning to fully look at it, and finds herself surprised that it’s another mare and not some light sent by the fairies for who-knows-why. The mare is a newcomer, clearly, as she’s looking around, seemingly searching for someone while she moves towards the lake.
Ea continues on her path, and as they both get closer to the lake, she calls out a greeting. “Hello,” she says while continuing to walk, until she wades into a shallow edge of the water, knee-deep on her smaller frame. “I’m Ea. Are you looking for someone? There’s hardly anyone else here but,” she pauses, both wanting to offer her help and also knowing the other mare may not want a busybody’s assistance. Instead, she leaves her sentence hanging.
AND I KNOW NONE OF THIS WILL MATTER IN THE LONG RUN,
BUT I KNOW A SOUND IS STILL A SOUND AROUND NO ONE
It’s not that comforting and familiar gold-and-white figure who approaches and pauses Beyza’s wandering, but it is a friendly face and that is something worthwhile all on its own. Beyza does not enter the lake, stopping where the waves only just brush against her white hooves among the pebbles and grass. She looks out across the crystalline surface for a brief moment before focusing on the mare and her question.
She falls back easily into familiar routines, reminding herself to blink and move her head a little every now and then - but while those mannerisms are fabricated she can at least say that the warmth in her voice is not. It’s been too long since she met someone entirely new to her. “Hello Ea, I’m Beyza.”
Next, though, her tone becomes a little troubled. It bothers her that she doesn’t know what has happened here or what exactly has changed - and that, if there had been a call from Beqanna for help that preceded these changes, she had not heard it this time.
“I am looking for someone, though I’m not sure I’m in the right place anymore. My mother lived here before the lands changed, but if this is still Hyaline it looks very different than the last time I visited.”
Maybe she’s romanticized this life after death, but it allows her to breathe unhindered. Returning to the Dale was a chance at a new life, one she could finally imagine for herself after going back in time and fixing something, succeeding.
She could recount every trauma, go on and on and on and on (and she will), but instead she watches the trees move with the breeze and the water ripple with every fish swimming by. It’s only at night that she allows herself to remember, to count every scar on her body while she falls asleep, as one would count sheep.
Tonight, it’s the warmth in Beyza’s voice that keeps her, for just a while longer, from slipping away to count scars, and for that, she’s thankful. As the white mare moves closer, Ea can see her white eyes closely for the first time and finds herself staring for just a moment too long, fascinated. “You’re striking,” she says, pausing before clarifying: “in a good way.” Once she would’ve been embarrassed by a rogue thought tumbling out of her mouth, disappointed that it hadn’t been carefully crafted and calculated.
This time, she brushes past it: “Hyaline? No, this is the Dale. It was here before,” she says, her voice trailing off again.
“You know, I don’t think I ever visited Hyaline. My last home was Ischia, if you know of it. A bit secluded,” she finishes, as though it were an explanation for why she didn’t quite know how to act around an unfamiliar face.
She dips her head into the water for a quick drink, then gently moves a few steps closer to the lake’s shore. “But I could help you look for your mother, if you’d like. You could tell me about her, or Hyaline, or yourself,” she says with a half-smile.
AND I KNOW NONE OF THIS WILL MATTER IN THE LONG RUN,
BUT I KNOW A SOUND IS STILL A SOUND AROUND NO ONE
Beyza doesn’t show any shock to being called striking, but the word does inspire a small smile to spread even though the conversation moves on. Even without the other mare’s addition - Beyza only would’ve considered it a compliment.
The Dale, Ea tells her - not Hyaline. Beyza is sure the lake is the same as it was in that other valley-like kingdom, though, and wonders now what other pieces of Beqanna’s past are splicing themselves together. There weren’t many other lands she had visited enough to be able to recognize changes in, a fact that she now regrets. Perhaps in someone’s thoughts or dreams she might be able to glean the other changes, but her curiosity does not have enough of a fiery drive to inspire her to such lengths just yet. And the minds of others often lie, even when the audience is only meant to be the self.
Ea mentions Ischia, and Beyza brightens at this common thread between them - so even though she could easily check to see whether Ryatah is here at the moment, she accepts Ea’s offer to help her look for her mother. She moves backwards out of the lake, and tells Ea as they begin to walk - “I lived in Ischia as well. Before the sea took it a few years ago, my daughters and I found a haven there.” Maybe she is showing off for Ea since she likes her already, maybe the weight of these memories are just too strong to ignore - but Beyza casts an illusion around them. The dusk-shaded grass turning to soft white sand and the hardy trees becoming palm trees - the lake now the ocean, shimmering with the last light of the day that has been obscured from them here by the mountains. “I chose it for its seclusion, but even if it were still around I have learned there is a point where one can have too much isolation.”
