"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
The fire had stopped burning her. Months ago, now, not terribly long after Lilitha’s failed attempt to cross the border into Taiga, the waves of sweet agony that had accompanied use of her fire for so long had finally deserted her. Still, she hadn’t quite managed to make herself try again. Even knowing it was coming, it had hurt too damn much not to be able to cross into her one-time father’s home.
Still. Winter had raged on after her curse had ended, and finally given way to spring, and the new season was halfway gone before Lilitha managed to steel herself to try again. Now, standing just outside the border once again, Lilitha stared into the promised land she’d been banished from, not by her father or his king but by the land itself. Utterly still, barely even breathing, she just stood, golden eyes surveying the edge of the forest that had been forbidden to her for so long.
She’d been so small, still an innocent even with all she’d lost and gained and stood to lose again. Three years and more had passed since the day she’d watched her father and his family walk away, held back from joining them by Beqanna herself. All because she’d stood up for the man she’d come to love, the only person up til then who’d ever given a damn about her. So tiny, to have her heart broken again. But the world was not a gentle place, nor a merciful one.
So small, she’d been so damn small the last time she’d seen him. Awkward and leggy and as delicate as she’d ever been. But the years on her own had matured her. Her body had grown tall and broad, limbs thickening, hooves widening and lower legs feathering a bit to display draft blood that certainly had not come from her dam. Her sire must have been a large man, whoever he was, and his blood must have run strong in her. All she’d gotten from her dam, so far as she could recall, was the red of her hair and the gold of her eyes. Thick muscle, broad frame, the darkness of her coat, the dam she barely remembered had not been responsible for any of it.
The thick, jagged scars where she’d once had wings, those were all her own. Hell. All of it was all her own. No sense laying parts of her on a man she’d never met and a woman who hadn’t had it in her to care about the girl she’d given birth to. Lilitha had been on her own for a long time. Might as well lay claim to all of herself.
Taking a deep breath, Lilitha admitted to herself that all this dwelling on things that didn’t matter anymore was just to put off the inevitable. The moment where she had to try one more time, one last time, to cross the border into Taiga. If Beqanna wouldn’t let her now that her curse had broken somehow, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to try again. Letting the breath out slowly, Lilitha walked forward until she was just one step away from the exact spot where she’d hit an invisible wall last time. Just one more step.
The pair of them, father and daughter, meandered through the seemingly endless forests of the Taiga, their footfalls almost in sync. Anastazja’s birth had taken more of a toll on her mother than their other children, and so Romek had taken over the lions share of raising. He tried to let Maribel be able to rest as much as possible, and having a child under his wing, so to speak, was a new experience for him. Almost an entirely new experience, anyway.
He had almost forgotten how pleasant it was to be accompanied by another on his patrols; a fresh set of eyes that questioned everything, a set of eyes that took nothing for granted. And, perhaps, sharper this his own – when she asked him rather seriously what they were supposed to be looking out for (with the connotation that she had seen something worth looking at), he had to look twice to notice the black and red mare.
Stepping through the bramble and bushes fluidly, paying no heed to the snag of twigs in his tail, he emerges from the gloom with a slight half-smile (perhaps it would have been more of a smile in the past) which turns into a frown as he tries to place the familiar face…
”Lilitha.” he says finally, realising. An adult now, though. All grown up. And a stranger. He is struck by how much she resembles Offspring, now, remembers her fire-powers, wonders, but… He doesn’t like to make assumptions. But the familiarity is noted, nonetheless. She looks well, looks like she has done well for herself. Which is something.
He thought of her every day, imagined what he would say but – she was here now, more solid than a ghost, and he found there weren’t very many words he could say after all. She didn’t feel like a child of his – she felt like a stranger, and he supposed that she was, now, in a way.
”I thought you had…” he glances briefly to the young filly at his side, watching their exchange with curious applegreen eyes. He doesn’t want to say it in front of the child; wants to protect her… Isn’t that ridiculous? Ridiculous after not being able to protect Lilitha? ”But you’re not. That’s good.”
It had been his fault, really. He could’ve followed her, told the Fairies where to stick it, but… He had had others relying on him. His other children, his wife, his friends who had become family… A whole host of people he would’ve backflipped and said the alphabet backwards to keep safe. But Lilitha was supposed to be one of them. He had failed her, no matter which way he had spun it, and the days and nights and endless hours he had spent looking for her meant very little, in the scheme of things – she had been lost, and he could have prevented it. Should have prevented it.
”I’m sorry.” he says, but doesn’t really know where to begin. He’s never been the best at words, and now, of all times, he wished he had the gilded tongue of Maribel, or any other diplomat…or anyone else, really.
He falls quiet again and the young filly beside him shifts, a little uncomfortable, eyeing the red-maned stranger warily.
dreamer, every time you stargaze the whole world is lying at your feet
There was nowhere better to be than following her daddy through the forests of her home, every tree and root and rabbit-burrow becoming more and more familiar with every passing hour. Together, they patrolled and did their duty for their home and for their King (the strange blue-eyed stallion who had requested they all stay here – she reckons they must be pretty important to be requested by the leader to stick around).
She notices the intruder (or rather, almost-intruder) before her daddy does. She draws his attention to it, unsure of the correct procedure. She knew this one can’t be from the Taiga, for she brought the scent of outside-lands with her, and didn’t stink of the damp mist or moss or greenery of their home.
She follows the spotted stallion quietly, and notices as they approach the way he seems to tense up a bit, notices how uncomfortable he seems – despite the fact that he seems to recognise this stranger. The metal-and-cream filly watches curiously as he addresses her, not understanding, not entirely sure what was going on. Perhaps she is an enemy, Ana wonders – but her daddy doesn’t seem… Well, he isn’t acting like she is a threat.
Some more words are exchanged, and her daddy looks at her, although she doesn’t really pick up on the meaning of what he is saying. She gets that there is something he is holding back… and he apologises to the mare, sounds very sad and serious.
Ana’s eyes widen and she looks from daddy to stranger to daddy again; before resting finally on the stranger once more. Almost accusingly, although mostly wary – what had happened to make her daddy so upset? Had he done something wrong? Had the stranger done something wrong? But, if she had, why would her daddy be apologising?
Had he done something wrong? Ana couldn’t imagine her daddy doing anything wrong – he was her hero, and an important part of Taiga (the king said so). Like any little girl, she held her daddy in high regard, almost impossibly high – a fairytale knight, the dragon-slayer…it seemed impossible for him to do anything wrong.
And yet, here he was, admitting that he had done something wrong. And that certainly didn’t happen in fairytales.
04-04-2017, 01:57 PM (This post was last modified: 04-04-2017, 01:59 PM by Lilitha.)
Taking a deep breath, Lilitha closed her eyes and finally started to take that last step--only to freeze in place at the sound of someone approaching. Startled, she jerked her foot back down and stood stock still, all her senses attuned in the direction of the sound of footsteps as a face that was both strange and painfully familiar revealed itself. There was a casual half-smile on his face, a dimmer version of the one he’d once reserved for strangers. And, she supposed, a stranger she was.
He frowned, looking her over but not recognizing the girl she’d once been in the woman she had become, and if the time it took for realization to dawn made her heart ache and her breath catch, well that was hers to carry. She hadn’t expected to see him, let alone...let alone have some kind of joyous welcoming back into the fold.
Her name on his lips, when it finally came, only made her heart hurt a little more. Not Lily or Lil or Litha, and she wasn’t any of those things anymore, but the name felt wrong and a sad, aching right coming from the man she’d once called her father. The only one she’d ever known. “Romek,” she answered him with a shaky, awkward imitation of his earlier half-smile.
“I thought you had…”
His glance back at the girl by his side cut off any reaction she might have had to the news that he’d...thought her dead? She had been a lost little girl the world had made clear it didn’t intend to look out for, and they’d been torn apart while she was still so small. Perhaps she should have been, by all rights. She could understand why he would have thought it, with the dangers the world held and its own inherent cruelty weighting the odds against her.
That little girl.
In another life, that could have been her sister.
She was lovely, of course. All of Romek’s children were, with that pretty wife of his. Mariana, Marisol, Mari-something...never quite Mama, at least not hers. Lilitha wondered just for a moment how many there were now, how vast her almost-family had become in the years she’d been gone. Did it matter? Did she really even want to know?
God, this was a mistake.
He apologized, and her sad, shaky smile grew. “I understood.” It hurt, but I understood. She let that go unsaid, though. No need to put her pain on him. She’d carried it by herself well enough so far. “You were needed here. And I…” She looked away from him, taking a slow, deep breath to steady herself. “I understood that.”
She had understood why he couldn’t stay with her. She hadn’t understood why he hadn’t visited. That had broken her heart, with a slow and devastating thoroughness that had hurt more than the fire ever had, but he didn’t need to hear that. It wouldn’t do either of them any good.
“The fire stopped hurting. I thought...I just wanted to know if the rest had stopped too.” If I could finally come home, she didn’t say, because the longer she stood just one step away from the promised land, the more she understood Beqanna had done a far better job than she’d realized.
Even if she could step across the border, Taiga wasn’t her home.
04-04-2017, 04:56 PM (This post was last modified: 04-04-2017, 05:00 PM by Romek.)
fuck all your dreams; they're not all they seem.
His name to her, of course, was not dad; but that didn’t make it any less sharp to hear. He’d gone through life thinking that words were nothing, words meant nothing, could do nothing if you just didn’t listen – the real pain was in the trade of blow after blow but look, here, this singular word was like a dagger, puncturing deep where no tooth or claw had ever reached before, nor had ever threatened to reach. By gods, he’d experienced loss; multiple homes and his parents and his titles, respect of his peers (if he had ever had that), people he had loved, people he had considered brothers... But never something like this.
He watched with his amber eyes storming, four seasons at once, as her gaze travelled to the young daughter at his side. And, even him, blockhead, knew what she was thinking (perhaps because he was thinking it too, had always been thinking it) – what could’ve been, what should’ve been, what never was.
”Ana. Go find your sister.” his voice unusually husky; though with emotion or urgency, his young metal-and-cream daughter could not tell, neither could he… Though he knew that he, selfishly, didn’t want his youngest to hear this. She ran off with not another word, rather unlike her, but it would seem this day was a day for surprises and shock, so why not? Romek watched her disappear into the underbrush, before turning back to Lilitha.
She said she understood but he saw something in her eyes – pain? (did he? Or was it his own?). He had given up on the idea that they would be reunited long ago, signed her off to the bellies of the wolves or the rivers, or perhaps killed by another… He was not prepared for this. Not even remotely.
say something
he willed himself but there was nothing, nothing, more nothing – a blank abyss, gaping cavern – whatever you want to call it, he had a black hole for a brain and nothing was escaping. Did she feel like this? Or did she just assume he had abandoned her, left her to rot? Forgotten about her, didn’t care about her? Or all of the above. She came to find out whether she could, not to reconnect with those who had left her behind… of course. Abandoned. Lost. Is that what his mother felt like? Is that what he had done to her? Forsaken her, forgotten her, scorned her – all over again. He understood suddenly, all at once, why she languished away, why she hid and why she cried, why she was never much of a mother at all. By gods, mother, thought Romek, please help, please. Please. Just one more minute. Soft, kind, gentle – she would know what to say. She always knew what to say. Please, mother, please just help me. Help me.
”Lilitha,” he began, thinking of solid Vanquish, of Demian and Nocturnal and his brothers and sisters, and the sands of the Deserts, the ice fields of the Tundra, his allies and friends, all of them – ghosts, standing behind him, ghost in front – surrounded. Trapped. He had never felt trapped before. ”I made a mistake. I was wrong.”
”I shouldn’t have left you behind. It was a mistake. I was wrong.”
”I looked for you.” though it was little comfort to her now, he reckoned, he wanted her to know. ”I thought of you every single day, long after I stopped looking for you.”
He remembers the fairy’s words, probably just as well as Lili does (though how could he, really, he hadn’t had to live through it every day for literal years of his life). She ought to be able to cross now; if she wanted to. There was a whole host of reasons why she would not want to but…
”Please. Please stay for a little while. You don’t have to, of course. I have missed you…missed who you were. I would like to get to know you again. If you want. If that would be good for you.”
And he waited. He could hardly blame her if she wanted to stay away, start afresh - he'd probably go for that option, too. But he couldn't not try, couldn't leave her to think that she was unwanted - she had never been. He hopes, at least, she can find comfort in that, if nothing else.
Romek sent his young daughter to find her sister, leaving the two of them alone. Probably that was smart, better somehow, freed them to find the words that needed to be said without worrying how much little ears should hear.
That wasn't why Lilitha was grateful to watch the girl disappear back into the brush and the brambles.
There was enough might have been hanging in the air between them without a whole other almost-sister there too. The adopted twins, Romek’s firstborn twins, at least one other tiny daughter, and the years may well have blessed him with more little ones as well. All strangers who could have been family, in another life where the world hadn’t torn them so thoroughly apart.
Where they hadn’t let it.
She drew a long, slow breath in as they watched little Ana disappear, letting it out and steeling herself to meet his amber eyes as he turned to stare at her once again. Silence stretched out, awkward and endless in the air between them. Her heart ached, remembering how effortless it had once been to tuck herself up against his chest and cuddle close, stealing his warmth and basking in his quiet love of her.
She hadn’t expected him to be small, when he had always been so much larger than life in her memory. Tall and strong, those spots along his spine a beacon guiding her to the only place that had ever felt like home. She wouldn't fit there anymore, tucked beneath the curve of his neck where nothing could ever hurt her or break her heart and no one would ever throw her away again.
She hadn't for fit there in a long time, though, had she?
I should go, she thought as the uncomfortable silence stretched on. She had never meant to impose, and was about to apologize when he finally spoke her name again. It hurt a little less the second time, braced as she was for a painful goodbye. She didn’t fit here, she shouldn’t have come. But Reagan had said he was gone from these lands, and she’d just...needed to know for sure that she could.
“I made a mistake. I was wrong.”
She met his eyes, and her smile got a little heavier, a little sadder as he talked. “Was it a mistake, though? They needed you here. You would have been risking everything you’d worked so hard for, and with so many depending on you. Not just the others you led here, but your wife, your children. I never blamed you for staying with them, Romek. Look what Beqanna did to me for defending you. She wouldn’t have hesitated to do just as much to you, if not more. What else could you have done, with so many people counting on you?”
That he had looked for her, that he had thought of her, eased some of the hurt left from nearly three and a half years spent wandering alone. Maybe only a little, but it helped. “I looked for you too,” she whispered. Every day that first year, every snapping twig or crunching leaf, she’d looked up hoping to see him coming to find her, to check on her, to make sure she was okay.
When she’d still had her wings, she’d watched from the sky, never quite crossing Taiga’s borders but looking for him all the same. Looking for a glimpse of him, a flash of those glowing spots that had fascinated her so as a young girl. But it had hurt too damn much, looking into paradise when she’d been cast aside by the world itself, Taiga’s fallen daughter. It had almost been a blessing when her wings had burned away again, stripped away by the fire so she couldn’t torture herself trying to catch glimpses of the life she might have led.
She’d stopped looking for him then. There had been far too much pain in her life to make room for any more, the fire searing through her and setting her pain nerves alight with every touch. It had burned away the last of her hope, the last of her faith in the goodness of the world, a faith that had already been crushed by Beqanna herself. She’d known as she burned that no one was coming for her. She hadn’t thought of him every day, hadn’t let herself think of him very often from then on. But it helped, a little, that he’d thought of her.
He asked her to stay, and she hesitated a little longer. “I’m not that girl anymore, Romek. You...you weren’t wrong to think her lost forever. But I...I could try. I don’t know if...I don’t think I fit here, not after all this time. It might hurt too much, to be surrounded by strangers who could have been so much more. Would have been, in another life. But I could try.”
At least she thought she could. Still, she looked down at the border, half-expecting it would still be impossible. One step. Just one little step, and she would know. I’m scared, she didn’t tell him, because it had been so long since there had been someone to tell these things. So long since there had been anyone but herself to offer what little comfort she could and try to make that be enough. It had become second nature to keep it all inside, where no one could see how deeply she hurt.
So she didn’t ask for his help, didn’t ask for reassurance, didn’t lock her gaze with his to anchor her in his strength or his solid presence or the feeling of home that had once radiated from his skin. She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, swallowing hard and gathering her strength to try one last time to enter a land that had been forbidden to her for so long. Shaking almost imperceptibly, she raised one foot and extended it slowly, slowly forward. Her heart raced, her breath caught in her chest, and if she’d been alone she might have frozen, retracted into herself and dissolved into a frantic mess waiting for the world to knock her down again, to kick her in the stomach until her diaphragm spasmed and she couldn’t breathe, to spit on her prone body and turn its back once again.
If she’d been alone, she might have chickened out. But he was watching, and she damn well wouldn’t let anyone see her that weak. Least of all him. Just one step. It felt like it took an eternity, stretching her leg forward, refusing to look at him for fear he’d see in her golden eyes just how hard that one little step was.
Until her foot touched down on Taiga soil for the very first time. Relief flooded through her, nearly drowning her, welling up in her eyes and escaping as a single, solitary tear that trickled down her cheek. The second step was easier, and the third easier still, and before she knew it she was standing fully inside the border.
Her voice shook just a little as she turned to face him, still not looking into his eyes. Not when she couldn’t manage to pull herself together, still so raw and naked, still braced as she was for rejection from a world that had given her almost nothing but. “Would...would you show me around your home?”
