"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
They say that fate decides, but Circinae had long buried that notion. If anything, her life had been proof of the opposite - fate would have left her to ravage herself and all those who crept too close. Action had led her to Ruan, to Canaan, to Jah-Lilah … to discovering herself.
Now it rouses her from the clutter of a makeshift nest, something pieced together with bits of clinging moss and soft bracken. Circinae stretches world-weary paws first, parts her jagged mouth to curl a pink tongue in a long yawn, and then finishes with a hearty shake in anticipation for the morning’s run. She has quite a ways to travel; from her re-discovered den in Taiga to Sylva and then the Beach: a busy day. One she’s been waiting on for quite some time.
Leaving her beloved new Kingdom had been best, especially after she had released Canaan from her soul. He and Jah-Lilah had no place there anymore; the withering heart of a mortal cannot sustain the endless love of those who are closer to gods, and she knows this. But, as she pads away on deft toes, she recalls them both anyways - it does not diminish the drive in her pace to fondly think on them both, nor does it ease the ebb of necessary pain - Canaan and his proud wings, his strange sense of the elements, his golden skin that seemed to burn with life and never would be snuffed out. He had given her children and love, laughter and joy, sadness and sorrow. And so much more.
Jah-Lilah, her spark-and-flame, lightning formed by Zeus in the shape of a horse. Her true soulmate but alas, meant to climb the stars for all eternity. Circy smiles to herself at the notion of red and gold painting the heavens. Their babes would outnumber the grains of sand on Ischia’s beaches. Live long and prosper, my Heart.
It’s mid morning now and the subtle shade of brown-gray beneath her feet turns to brilliant orange and scarlet. Quietly the little brown wolf slips past the borders of Sylva and plummets into the heart, right to the base of a mighty boulder where her son, Crevan, rests beneath. Watching him she can see the grace and neverending beauty of youth. He was three now and gown, but as she had surmised with her dual lovers before, so she correctly surmises now that he is touched by some higher power. Immortality suits him, though. It always would. “Crevan?” She whispers, slinking forward as her get raises a massive, pale head to stare in her direction.
He doesn’t hesitate to rise and greet her. They’d met briefly, some time ago. Talked about how much they hated each other, first, and then how much they hated how this life had turned out for them. Crevan had wept at the bitter mention of a spotted mare, Kuma who had come to Sylva some time ago by accident and left Sylva nearly dead due to his own actions. Circinae in turn had wept freely about the loss of Canaan, Jah, and Ischia. Misery seemed to love company.
It was then that they’d decided to go. Circinae had the ability and Crevan had all the time in the universe, so it made sense. They’d set the date, made the time, and now all that was left was going through with it. “Are you ready?” She asks him, tilting a circular head with curiosity over how he’d been wrapping up his loose ends here. “As I’ll ever be.” He tells her, and it still surprises the she-wolf how much he’s changed. How brutish and angry he’d become. “Let’s be off, then.” She says. No time to waste on her end.
When the Beach eats away at the earth and scrub turns to sand, they slow to catch their breath. Evening will be upon them soon and the majority of their journey had been put into expending energy on traversing the mountain range. “There’s no magic, where we go.” Circy explains, watching the widening of his interested navy eyes, “No other kin to slip skins with, no people like us.” She regals, entertaining him as they walk with notions of a place she’s only been to once. And by accident, at that.
But it was there, she’d seen it: white capped mountains and frosted evergreens, thousands of miles of wide expanse and herds of prey and predator. A world where animals were … animals. “Will we lose ourselves?” Her son asks, perking ears and face alike when they come to stand just so at the lapping shoreline. “I hope so, Crevan. I hope so.” She whines, inhaling deeply before turning back to the glistening waves.
This portal is nearly instantaneous, so deep is her desire to see the door opened wide. Neither hesitate to swim through and, when they do, the gate swirls into a popping sort of close at their heels. There is nothing left; faint pawprints that begin to fade as the tide rises with the moon. On the other side there is new hope, the feeling of fresh-fallen snow crunching beneath claws and the sudden surprise of another group of wolves, smokey-gray and wild-eyed, who greet them with stiff tails.
Years will pass, but soon the thread of brown will filter into the solid grays. They forget themselves- mother and son, wolf and pup; one becoming a new mother to countless broods while the other felt, finally, the cementing purpose of being truly in a pack. The howls and hunts outnumber the stars and, somewhere, on a very distant shore, perhaps someone remembers the strange pony-mare and the wolf who breathed fire.
“As a man, casting off worn out garments taketh new ones, so the dweller in the body, entereth into ones that are new.” ― Epictetus
Here lies the last known traces of Circinae and Crevan; death hasn’t come for them, but a new life has.
Circinae’s goodbyes
To Canaan and Jah-Lilah: “I brought the air and the earth together and can rest peacefully knowing that you’ll have each other, forever.”
To Nyxa and Corvus: “Corvus, accept who are and make it grand. Nyxa, there are no words … I failed you.”
To the Rest: “And I did it myyyyyyyy waaaaayyyyyy”
Crevan’s goodbyes
To my Family: “We were a family, perhaps for a moment. But that moment was all that I needed.”
To Merida: “I was too young to ever realize how important you were to me and for that, I’m sorry.”
To Celest: “You taught me that the future is tangible and, more importantly, changeable. Thank you.”
To the Rest: “A path can always be walked in two directions. Someday I might turn back.”
I want you to know that I'm all yours; you and me, we're the same force.
It has been a lifetime since she has seen these shores. Reagan does not hold with death... Indeed, it has no hold on her, either. Many have gone on before her, and there would be many after her. She has buried lovers, and buried children.
But in her long years, she found that her life was short on friends. and so, when her ears pricked to the sound of magic coming from the lazy lapping waves, she knew that it required her attention.
Having lived in Tephra for a number of years now, she has seen the shadow of Ischia off of the shoreline. She has known of her son's time there, and of the turbulence when Ischia and Taiga were linked. But when Reagan quieted her mind, and had faded into shadow, she did not know that one of her dearest friends had taken up the mantle.
The grey-white wolf with the bright green eyes pads her way to the Dunes, and when she sees the portal opening, and the crackling of electricity there...her eyes widen and she barks loudly. NO! CIRCINAE!
She lurches forward at a full run, but she is too late. The door is closed.
And then she remembers why she does not come to the Beach.
Saying goodbye is so hard.
And so, Reagan's ears go back, and she sits there in the sands, and closes her eyes, raising her head to the moon in a mournful howl. Goodbye, my dear friend. I shall miss you.
He comes to her in a dream like he had the first time she saw him. But this time is he isn't flying for her in a fury of fangs and fur - he's leaving. She watches helplessly as a portal in the Sea opens up, and he chooses to leave their world behind. For the first time, the far-seeing girl tastes the bitterness of her gift. To know, to watch, to be tethered to the spectator's bench while your world is reassembled before your eyes. She wants to be angry, but all she feels is empty.
Maybe, through some magic, a whisper of her thoughts reaches him in whatever world he may be.
Crevan,
You thought you took me captive, but you saved me. You rescued me from a woman who was too small to prepare me for who I wanted to be. You showed me that I didn't have to hide in the shadows, that I could create my own light and shape my own future.You are fearless and I will forever compare myself to you to see how well I'm doing in this wicked place.
When you come back - wild yet wise - find me, and together we will knock the wind out of this world.
And maybe, I'll find out a way to make it back someday. To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.
Circinae: I will look back on the days of our youth and smile. The mother of my children and beloved friend. You brought me to my true soulmate, and for that I thank you. Rest easy.
Crevan: I am sorry that I failed you; I longed to be all that you needed and all that you wanted in a father but it was too little, too late. I will love you always.
If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all, then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you.
Crevan: Thank you for showing me a side of myself I never would have found without you. You have spurred something in me. You were perhaps my first friend - you will be hard to forget.
How do I say goodbye to what we had? The good times that made us laugh outweigh the bad.
She stands on a bluff overlooking the beach, taking in the sight of departing paw prints. The sun is setting on the water and on a chapter in her life, and the wind finger-combs her mane, lifting her hair and her feathers, a pleasant reminder that Canaan is always with her. Sighing heavily, she whinnies once into the breeze, saying her goodbyes. Another lover lost, another child outgrows her. An old love dies, a young one lives. The Earth-Mother always provides, the universe requires balance. After paying her respects, she turns to go back to the world of the living, to the beat of her heart and the cry of her daughter. There is an eternity calling her name.
Goodbye, dear friend.
Goodbye, dear son.
I thought we'd make it to see forever, but forever's gone away. It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.
The long and winding road that leads to your door will never disappear.
The red soothsayer couldn’t recall how she had found her way back to the ever-changing world of Beqanna, but somehow she had made it. She was bruised, and her long mane made ombre by the rays of the sun was dreaded and tangled, but her talismans held tight. The mare had made it, not unscathed, but as whole as she’d ever been.
Her dark hooves made prints in the sand, muscles flexing to keep her gait consistent as she traveled over the gentle dunes to make her way to the final resting place of her old flame, her first love when she came upon this welcoming world. It had been long overdue, her pilgrimage back to pay respects for her fallen comrade, and although she meanders through a realm heavy with sorrow and missed connections, a smile plays on her lips. The smell of the sea and the salt on her tongue reminds her of the good times, reminds her of the unorthodox trysts that took place on so many moonlit nights. Oh how her heart aches to feel that full again.
It is easy to find the place where part of her soul had departed her body, few things imprint themselves on the brain so much as heartbreak, and without much direction from her mind her feet pick their way down the beach to the spot she seeks. Snapping her tail against her haunches, she sighs as she remembers everything as if it were yesterday. Like words in a book, recorded and written down to be shared with all the world to know, the memory of her love lives here. If Jah-Lilah didn’t know better, she would swear the scent of her other adopted son lingered here, as if her little Fire-Fang had never left. A single tear rebelliously escapes from her emerald eye, and she looks out into the horizon, into forever, and whinnies.
After her cry ceases to echo in the distance, she inhales, closing her eyes tightly. Desiring to hang on to everything she once had, she releases her breath and so releases her pain. Another love lost, another piece of her heart missing. But she would carry on, she always did. Neatly folding her legs beneath her, she drops to the sand and prepares to bed down for the evening, content to share one more night with the family she once had so many eons ago.
I’ve seen that road before, it always leads me here, leads me to your door.
don't get cut on my edges ─ I'm the king of everything and oh my tongue is a weapon
As always, she calls to him.
Like some sort of sixth sense, Amet can sense her. The red wytch. The soothsayer. His best friend and most intimate confidant. There's a change in the air, a heightening of vibrations, that tingles against his dragonhide whenever she is near ─ and he follows it, implicitly.
He pulls away from Hyaline and simply follows the pathway that unfurls before him, his map nothing but the wind and a feeling. There's a spring in his step and an exploratory glimmer in his amber eyes as the light blue morning sky slows heeds to high noon, and the rolling hills of the meadow, field, and plains to the surreal quiet of the beach.
He can't remember the last time he had been here, or if he ever had.
Scared to breathe too loud and destroy the melancholic peace of the sacred beach, Amet slows his gait to a meandering walk. His ears flutter, searching almost frantically for the sounds he believed should be there, but simply weren't. Slowly, he continues through the cool spring fog, remaining just outside of the reach of the gentle tide until a loud whinny rings through the air, shattering all semblance of quiet peace.
The sound ─ heart-achingly familiar ─ blooms hope in his chest and coaxes him forward into a gallop. His hooves beat against the wet sand and then kick flecks of it up with each new stride but he cares not for etiquette now ─ not when the soothsayer awaits him and her lamenting call still echoes.
When finally the flat expanse of gray sand gives way to the red body that lay upon her shores, Amet slows his pace to an easy trot. With a quiet nicker and the hint of a smile curling the corners of his soft maw upwards, the dragonhide stallion comes to a halt. "Well I'll be damned," he says incredulously as happy laughter begins to fall from his lips, "Get up and give me a damn hug."
The wild and windy night that the rain washed away left a pool of tears.
It was still so easy for her to slip into the dreamscape when she truly wanted to. That blurry plane of existence that dwells just above deep slumber had always been a welcome sanctuary for whenever she needed it. The red wytch meanders there now, searching for things that she cannot find while awake. Her breathing is steady, air filling her lungs evenly as she mediates, and although she’s not wholly awake or asleep, a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. The ground supports her like a pillow, welcomes her to it like a lover come back to bed after a long separation. Only when the muffled sound of hoofbeats cuts through the crisp early morning does she stir. First an ear flicks, then the rubbing of her cheek against the coarse grains of sand that she makes her bed on. The sorceress knows who it is long before she opens her jade eyes.
Wisteria. A plant out of place here, which means the odor piggybacks on the hide of one young male who she has come to know more intimately than most. Snorting groggily, she grunts as she raises her head. Particles of the shore cling desperately to one side of her face, and as a grin brightens her features she turns her head just as he comes into her line of vision. Chuckling as he all but piaffes over to her, she finds his mirth infectious and his presence reassuring. It seems as though she has made the right move at the right time once more, the Dragon-King has come before her again.
He slides to a stop and she peers up at him, finding her gaze lingering perhaps longer than it should on the muscles in his forelegs, the curve of his neck, but Jah-Lilah, before anything, is a mare. Her eyes dance impishly and she clucks back at him, his voice is like water to a man on the edge of dehydration. Oh how she’s missed companionship and the touch of another, even platonically. He curses, twice, and it still sounds so foreign coming from his mouth. Extending her neck, she nips at his knee, then gathers herself and prepares to rise. ”Alright, alright, I’m getting up.” Feigning old age, she grunts and groans exaggeratedly, heaving herself up to stand on all fours. Giving herself a vigorous shake she sends debris and sand flying. When she stops, her forelock is askew and she probably looks rather silly, but it doesn’t matter to her. The Dragon-King has come for her yet again.
Stepping forward into him, she’s more than happy to fulfill yet another one of his requests, and she tucks herself into him. Poll pressed up under his jaw, she then runs the left side of her face down his neck, muzzle raised to nibble her way along his crest, tugging his mane at the root and flipping it to her near side. His golden scales scrape along her smooth, coppery pelt and it causes a delighted groan to emerge from her throat. That spot had been itching for hours.
When finally she is pressed against him, chest to chest, she initiates a session of grooming by picking dust and grime from between his scales near his withers. All the while she makes little happy noises, sighing. ”Seems you’ve found me again, Dragon-King. What brings you to me this time, hmm?” A teasing tone to her melodic voice as she glances back at him, trying to hide a smirk.
I’m crying for the day. Why leave me standing here? Please let me know the way.
![[Image: celest_by_cowgirlconrad-dcolc1l.png]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/bc93/f/2018/277/3/d/celest_by_cowgirlconrad-dcolc1l.png)
