"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
"HOPING ONE DAY YOU'LL MAKE A DREAM LAST
BUT DREAMS COME SLOW AND THEY GO SO FAST."
The little mare was so tired of remembering, but she knew she’d never forget. Each step further from what once had been home was painful, but her feet kept moving. Amal sat upon her back, quiet. She knew her own grief weighed heavily on the little dragon. Such was the risk with a bond such as theirs.
Najya was a survivor. That was her curse - living on after being torn from her loved ones. First her family. Then her mate. Now her children. But her magic was spent. All she could do now was hope it was enough - hope she had been strong enough in those final moments to render some form of protection as the world crumbled around them.
She’d awoken in a field of ash with only muddled memories. She was all that was left - everything was in ruins. The memories of her homeland came rushing back. The smell of smoke burned in her nostrils and she simply couldn’t take it any longer.
She ran. Again. Ran until her lungs burned and her muscles screamed. Ran until nothing was familiar. Save for a familiar shadow. Amal. She should have known, but she could hardly tell what part of her soul was still in tact.
She wasn’t sure how long they’d wandered in solitude. Months. Maybe longer. Time made little sense in the aftermath. Najya knew for certain she wouldn’t have made it this far without Amal. The little dragon scouted ahead, ensuring that they stayed on the move. It was Amal that had found this place - spotted the others and encouraged her at least to look.
Najya inhaled sharply when she saw familiar, equine shapes. From her back, Amal chirped reassuringly. With that, the little mare stepped further into the strange land, wondering what she had managed to stumble upon.
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Not longer than a year ago, she herself had returned from a place Beyond. Indeed, her place was called just that - the Beyond, a mountainous realm of solitude and frozen time. This mare - as small in stature as Trissy, but far more interesting to look at - came from somewhere with a story. Somewhere that, in its beginning, was not here. Was not Beqanna. Still, that thread of connection existed between them - mares, small, resurfacing from a long time spent forgetting the years, blinking away the sleep from another realm.
There's a small white creature adorning her shoulder, one that chirps and seems to communicate with the flaxen mare. It's keen eyes are watching, looking - Trissy feels a queer twist in her stomach as the thing looks at her. Magic, though familiar, has always inspired a kind of nervous awe in the plain mare. Tumbling her thick black locks, she begins approaching, ears perked in a sign of friendliness.
"Hello," comes the husk of her voice, low and opposite to her delicate Arabian figure. She has stopped an appropriate distance away from the dragon-adorned mare, though they can see each other very clearly now. Their eyes nearly align, though Trissy stands somewhat shorter. She does not stretch to try and assert dominance - indeed, in this situation, it was the stranger who held the upper hand. Trissy was nothing, if she deemed her so.
"My name is Trissy - you smell like..." Her face creases, confusion lightly shading her expression. How could she explain the Beyond to someone, knowing full well she would most likely be incorrect? Torture, of course, had been a winning bet - they were siblings - she had smelled him on the wind.
But this mare... It was a gamble.
"I came from elsewhere, too." Her brow furrows, a kind of sad and sheepish expression on her face. She didn't know how else to say it - didn't know if there was anything else to say.
"HOPING ONE DAY YOU'LL MAKE A DREAM LAST
BUT DREAMS COME SLOW AND THEY GO SO FAST."
The shape of the girl is not an unfamiliar one. She had the look of the desert to her - and just by outward appearance she was someone who could have called her birthplace home once. Perhaps that provides some comfort to the flaxen mare. Najya watches the stranger carefully, cautiously as her curled ears flick in the other’s direction. She wonders, for a moment, just what sort of place they’d managed to find - and if they’d find welcome here. However those answers would come in time, or so she hoped.
”Hello,” she echoed to the black mare. It had been so long since she’d spoken to another, her voice was cracked and unfamiliar to her own ears. “I’m Najya,” she offered, her voice not at all its usual softly accented chime. It was dry, cracked - much like how she envisioned her heart to look. “It’s good to meet you, Trissy.” She offered, genuinely, with a small dip of her head. From the mare’s withers, the dragon looked curiously at the mare. Where Najya was reserved, Amal was naturally curious. The little creature lifted a claw in a wave to the stranger, a small trill escaping her at the idea of having company. “That is Amal,” the little mare said, with a gesture to the dragon, “She’s pleased to see you. We’ve been traveling a long time.”
From elsewhere.
Trissy’s use of the word was quite appropriate given the situation. At the end of the day it didn’t matter where she was from - she wasn’t from here. However a flame of concern ignites in the once-healer’s heart. She’s so tired of conflict now, having watched the aftermath of war twice over. She eyes the dark mare cautiously before speaking once more.
”Tell me Trissy...is this place kind to those of us from elsewhere.” Perhaps Najya’s journey wasn’t quite over after all.
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Despite having true desert bloodlines, as per her breed, the mare had no affiliation with the former Deserts - though this mare wouldn't have the slightest clue about that. Nor about how Trissy was in truth a Valley princess - not that the title bore any significance in this realm. And she didn't expect it to, either. Still, she felt strange knowing that the mare before her had no idea of what came Before the reckoning - and even stranger still, that Trissy couldn't even dream of where she came from herself.
And the attempts at explaining either... Trissy deigned to turn down that particular thought, instead focusing on the newly introduced Nayja.
Her voice carried a kind of husk, but it sounded strenuous, whereas Trissy's came naturally. A small smile pulled at her lips, reassuring Nayja - there had been a time in her life, too, when words had seemed unnatural. "I'm glad to have met."
When the little white creature leaned from her perch to wave, a grin split Trissy's lips unexpectedly - the expression was a rare one for the mare. Her dark eyes bounced from dragon to mare, glimmering in a kind of awe and wonder. "Pleased to meet you as well, Amal," Trissy asserts, ears perked right towards her. At Nayja's next words, however, Trissy's expression calms - not in a way as to suggest anger or sadness, but rather sympathy and understanding. Though she did not reply, her eyes met Nayja's squarely - and the intensity of her gaze implied that same understanding.
Time immeasurable.
Despite being looked at with precise calculation, Trissy remained comfortable where she stood; her plainness held truth (she hid no traits in her mind), and she was at peace with that. True, her character had brought about some rather dramatic scenes since her return to Beqanna - but those were nothing compared to war. She may be playful, coy, even verging on mildly shit-disturbing - but she was no wager of war.
She smiled at the next question - a thoughtful, reflective expression.
"I don't wish to drive you away, Nayja," she began, "But I will be honest with you. Beqanna - as this land is called - can be a cruel mistress. She has her jealousies and her temper tantrums. But at night, curled up next to her - you can almost breathe easy." She tossed her forelock, shifting her weight; smiling. "And the night does seem to last long. I'd say that you've come during a time of slumber."
"As for us from elsewhere, specifically - we are treated as equals." Her smile leveled out, the humour from her voice dispersing. "I am a member of the kingdom, Loess, but I could have chosen any." She paused. "So can you."
