"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
Bonfires, poetry, and livin' life right and there's
Beaches, boats, sailing, togetherness
The feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
After being accepted begrudgingly into the Jungle by Queen Lagertha, things settle down for little Kagerus and I. Milk for the babe was easily retrieved in a number of fashions - magicians, generous mothers, and the like - yet she weaned herself of it with a knowing speed. Even at her young, delicate age, my daughter understood the burden she was to the Jungle as only a hungry mouth to feed; now, the girl feasts on the rich Jungle grass, despite what I try to tell her on the matter. You are far too young to be without milk, Kagerus. I would say. But I am not dead yet, am I? And so, she got her way.
The rest of our time in the Amazon has been free of tribulation. Kagerus is constantly entertained by the chaos of the kingdom, fascinated with the wildlife and absolutely stricken to the heart with love for the Jungle. My Jungle; Kagerou’s Jungle. I smile every day knowing that the girl blooms in the bosom of a land so very sacred to everyone before her; and perhaps, one day, it shall be a land she too shall rule.
Idle thoughts, old man. Back to the present.
Kagerus, who has me wrapped around her finger, walks cautiously by my side as we enter the playground she had politically cornered me into taking her to. Pa, she said, how am I going to turn into anything of a woman if I can’t even be a kid? And how am I going to be a kid if I don’t know how kids are supposed to be? And so, once again, the little bay gets her way.
“Alright, Kagerus, this is the playground.” I intone helpfully. “You can leave my side now, but stay in my sight, love.” Her bright nutmeg eyes flash up at me, and I cannot hold back a smile. Nudging her sinewy little behind affectionately, I send her off, settling into the shadow of an oak tree to watch and guard over my precious bundle.
With a secret smile, Kagerus wades into the middle of the playground, nosing at a stalk of grass in pretense of being unaware of her surroundings. I, of course, see through this sham; the girl’s nutmeg eyes dart around, hungry for attention, and ready for anything.
Ah, darling girl...
Kavi ☼ Kagerus
So essentially, I’ll change perspective to Kagerus next post… or I won’t, and I’ll continue writing her from Kavi’s perspective. Which will be weird but totally awesome? We will see.
I keep coming back to this place, though I couldn't say why. I have no need of a place to frolic or kick up my heels, no real thirst to meet strangers and wade through endless uncomfortable conversation while eyes bore into me from all directions. Some children play games, chasing one another, romping and rearing and bouncing with one another, but I have never been one of them. Still, there is an inexplicable lure to the land set aside for the innocent, for those still whole enough to throw themselves into play with reckless abandon. I may not participate, but I watch from the shadows.
There is a stand of oak trees that offer just the right amount of shade so that I can stay quiet and hidden without blocking the view of the largest open area where other kids often gather and play in groups. So I have an excellent vantage point when a man arrives with a girl at his side, nudges her gently forward to go play, and then retreats to a tree quite near mine. I study him, moving nothing but my eyes, trying to determine if he's watching over her or just waiting for her to be distracted enough so that he can sneak away unnoticed. I have seen enough abandonment in my day, and I will not stand idly by while it happens again to some poor girl who doesn't know yet that not all fathers stay.
Quiet though my steps are, it doesn't take long to reach the stranger. And for once, I do not duck my head or avert my gaze. I stand tall, or as tall as I am able, and I ask him outright. “You aren't going to leave her here, are you? Because that would be cruel, waiting for her to turn her back before you sneak away without an explanation. Not that any explanation is ever good enough.” There is an unfamiliar stubborn set to my jaw, challenge in my dark brown eyes that I don't think has ever been there before. No one deserves to be left like that.
Bonfires, poetry, and livin' life right and there's
Beaches, boats, sailing, togetherness
The feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
I am not completely unaware of the colt who stands in the shade not far off, sneakily eyeing me in his particular way. I had taken stock of him upon entering the playground, though I hadn’t the chance to lend him a smile yet; Kagerus is quite the child, and she is my responsibility - she is mine to dote upon, and that activity takes a certain amount of attention, to say the least.
Amber eyes, like glasses of brandy with the sun filtering through them just so, flicker to the colt as he now approaches. My ears remain attached to the whereabouts of my girl. Curiosity welling in my broad Arabian chest, I emit a soft whicker - it’s not really all that often that the children approach the parents, at least, not in a land made specifically for infant interaction.
It would seem that this young stag has more on his mind than playtime.
I meet his challenging gaze full-on, intrigued by his confidence and resolve. At the end of his short spiel, a warm, bemused smile has spread its wings across my lips, and a kind chuckle reverberates from deep within me.
“You are observant, sir. Gallantly so.” My arched neck, regal despite the gray which flows from my buckskin coat, turns so that I might survey Kagerus, who has turned to look at us curiously. “But I am far from abandoning my daughter. Put your fears to rest, brave gentleman; Kagerus is well looked out for.”
The little minimal-overo girl has ambled her way over to us by now, though having not heard exactly what I uttered to the boy. Her nutmeg eyes, so alike to Kagerou’s, flicker between myself and the stranger, who stands tall and proud, with a jaw so set I fear for his bones. Ah, but he is yet young.
“Who are you?” Asks my little braveling, her own eyes flaring up with something of a challenge. She doesn’t want her old man being bullied, you know. “Are you from around?” I smile gentle encouragement to my daughter, and lend a nod to the colt beside me. Backstepping so as to allow them some privacy, I lower my head to graze, well within hearing distance, but far enough so as not to be intruding.
I know you're trying to fight when you feel like flying.
When my accusation brings only a smile and a bit of laughter, I realize my mistake. The man had no intention of leaving his young daughter alone without an explanation or even a goodbye. I guess I've seen one too many abandoned children in my short time here. Been one too many, for that matter. Maybe that makes me a little quick to overreact.
I duck my head, embarrassed to have insulted the stranger with my presumption. “Good. I'm glad to hear that. I apologize for assuming the worst of you.” I would really prefer to skulk off back into the shadows, back to the quiet, putting a comfortable distance between myself and watchful eyes. Especially the amber ones of the man I just accused of being the scum of the earth. I should never have spoken, should never have come over here, should have thought before I acted.
Did it wrong, Nevi. You always do it wrong.
But my retreat is delayed by the arrival of the girl I tried so defend, lured by curiosity and maybe a little protectiveness toward her father if the fire in her eyes is any indication. “Oh. I. I'm nobody,” I answer, looking down at the ground. I know how upset I would be if someone insulted anyone I love. “I'm Neverwas.” The name slips out, shards of glass slicing through my skin; I haven't called myself that since the day Isle found me. Now here I am, spilling secrets onto the ground at a stranger's feet.
She should know though. They both should know. Please don't let my words offend; I am less than nothing. “I'm from the Tundra,” I add reluctantly when she asks where I'm from. I shouldn't be. I should be Neverwas of nowhere at all, claimed only by the Den as yet another lost boy slowly growing into a lost man. I am the Tundra's only because I am Isle's, wrapped up in angel wings and carried home to paradise. “What about you?”
