"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
Beqanna was a strange place without Momma Sol’s active presence. She could still feel Drodro and NishNish, and her other siblings were a little more distant but still there, the warm glow of distant auras sending the occasional pulse of love and concern her way. But Momma Sol had left this land far behind, and though Strange could reach her if she needed to, it felt so…so empty here without the Sun. Still. Life carried on even in her absence, and Strange had found her way back to her body even if it had taken a while. Adventures with NocNoc and Uncle Quan had been fun, but it felt like time to reconnect. The cord between her soul and her body was starting to feel a little too wobbly, and even if she’d wanted to stay away Uncle Quan wouldn’t let her. He’d put his big old silver foot down, all knight and guardian and stern solemn uncle eyes, and he wasn’t wrong. Even if she’d wanted him to be.
So she was back in her body after ages away, and it was still this teeny tiny thing with parts that didn’t always listen and eyes that didn’t always see what they were supposed to and ears that heard things other people didn’t. But at least now she knew somebody else like her! Or sort of like her. Like her enough that she was friends with the fireflies too, tiny soul lights that danced around, drawn to the ones who could hear them. Someone who had the eyes to see her NocNoc, so he didn’t have to feel like…well, like a ghost. He was so much more than just a ghost. He’d tied his soul to hers instead of to his body, and he was her best and truest and longest and foreverest friend. And he was also always with Momma Luna, the way the rest of their siblings couldn’t be. Even Strange couldn’t be with Momma Luna always, and Momma Luna needed family with her. Even if she didn’t always know that.
So it was that Strange found herself wandering through the Meadow, rediscovering how her long, spindly legs worked and reacquainting herself with a body she hadn’t seen in quite some time. Tall, gangly, still the body of a not-quite-yearling though it should have been much older by now. Black broken only by the white on her so far only lightly feathered lower legs, a few white face markings, and the bright, cheery yellow crescent moon on her right side. Bright cobalt blue eyes that saw too many worlds at once and sometimes got them mixed up. She had a lot of Momma Sol’s gypsy build, with some of Momma Luna’s refinement to the shape of her face, the curve of her neck, the set of her shoulders and her hips. She would be tall, if her body ever grew into itself. If she stayed long enough to let it. Maybe not as tall as Drodro and NishNish, but still.
The trees lining the Meadow were solid, steady presences, anchors in time and space. The same as they’d been the last time she’d wandered here, flowing green and lovely, cool like boulders but vibrant with growth and life and summertime. The willows reminded her of Momma Sol, strong and resilient and flexible, bending instead of breaking. Most of the time. And because she was missing Momma Sol, she wandered into the willows, letting the weeping branches caress her skin the way Momma did when she was littler still, tracing gentle strokes along her sides. Soothing her, and grounding her in her body in a way that only Momma could. Her bright eyes drifted closed, and she sighed a content little sigh.
Come with me and you'll be in a world of pure imagination
living there you'll be free if you truly wish to be.
this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more
She feels older, and it sucks. Lagertha hates it. She hates the way her muscles protest in the winter mornings, the way the colder air seems to have settled into her in a way it never did before. She is notold in the way that some are old - in the way of the immortals, or in the way of some of the other sisters - Myrina and Scorch and Malka. She is old in the way she has pushed her body to stay in top shape, to fight and twist and turn like an agile filly. The cuts and bruises now bother her and old injuries come back to life. Time seemed to stop for awhile, halting decay. Now it springs forward again.
For this, she alternates cursing the fairy and waiting in the Meadow for some sign of it, like it had promised. She is ready to beg and plead and has a thousand points lined up to demonstrate why she should have her immortality back. It is tiresome, all this waiting. Some days she leaves to go back to the Jungle. Sometimes she’ll stay here for days on end. With the coming winter, she’ll probably spend more time in the Jungle - but missing the fairy isn’t an option. It simply isn’t.
The iron lady dozes now, sorting a pair of brand new waterbuck horns, but lacking the distinct marks that did or did not make her Auntie Valkyrie. Of all the individuals Lagertha’s met in the Meadow, Quark’s little girl took the cake. Not just because she gave the General the very source of her ambitions, but because she kept popping up in Lagertha’s mind. And I think a part of the warrior woman always wanted a child like Strangelet. Instead, she had Dalten. Who is an odd boy, and has yet to show any sort of potential. Maybe if they had bonded properly, she might feel differently - but now with Tiphon off the throne, all her plans have gone to hell and she resents her son. Just a little bit.
She is not inside the willow’s branches, for that would be a poor place to be on the lookout for a fairy. She is outside, under the boughs of another tree, but within sight of the graceful, vine-like limbs. Every now and then Lagertha opens her eyes, and on this most recent fuzzy glimpse of the world, she spots a black rear end with a yellow crescent moon. Oh, how - Oh. Oh. She knows that mark. Lagertha squeezes her eyes shut and then opens them again, shaking away the dozey cobwebs, before calling out to the figure that is now well hidden by the willow’s branches. “Strangelet? Quark’s little girl?”
She shouldn’t be so little anymore. She should be full grown. Lagertha wonders if she’ll remember her without her tattoos.
The willow branches stroke along her skin, whispering secrets in her ears as they caress her and ground her in her body. This one whispered about a pair of lovers who had brushed through these branches the night before, meeting in relative secret hidden behind the curtain of weeping limbs and leaves. That one murmured to her of a little girl who had been lost, a tiny thing even smaller than herself who had taken shelter against the willow’s trunk. Had she found her way home, the poor dear? No, but a sweet old mare had come wandering by, with kind eyes and a filly of her own at her side, and the little lost girl had found a new home. A better home, or the tree would have sheltered her from the woman’s sight.
Sometimes lost happened for a reason.
Another branch stroked along her spine, its tale tickling at the edges of her mind when—“Strangelet? Quark’s little girl?” Strange knew that voice, though it had been quite some time since her ears had heard it. Oh, she’d peeked in now and then, just to make sure she wasn’t needed. But Auntie Valkyrie was a big girl, and quite capable of taking care of herself. But now?
With a grin, Strange whirled around to face her friend, cobalt eyes lighting up with delight. “Auntie Valkyrie!” she exclaimed, bounding toward the still much larger mare with a playful little half rear and an excited little kick of her back legs on the way over. She reached out and bumped her nose against her auntie’s shoulder, snorting and beaming and wriggling with glee. “I like your new horns!” she said, her bright eyes going wiiiiide at the sight.
“Oooh, and wings too! Flying is fun, huh? I bet it’s fun in bodies too, I’ve only ever tried outside of mine. It doesn’t have wings, see, and it doesn’t stretch and bend and flex and shift like Momma Luna’s or Momma Sol’s or even Fireball’s. Do yours go away and come back when you want like theirs do? That’s a pretty handy trick, Auntie Valkyrie!” She jumped, stretching like she could spread wings of her own and fly high into the sky. But alas, her body did not sprout wings, and she landed much sooner than she might have liked. “Maybe someday. Or there’s always flying with Momma Luna and NocNoc!” That would work just as well. Though maybe sometime she’d like to feel the wind in her face and on her skin and ooh, maybe Momma Sol would take her flying, the next time they were together.
Come with me and you'll be in a world of pure imagination
living there you'll be free if you truly wish to be.
this will never end, ‘cause i want more, more, give me more
To say that Quark’s little girl is strange is an understatement. She doesn’t seem to age, staying filly-ish size for… oh goodness, how many years has it been? And of course, she babbles on about things Lagertha has no idea about, but must make sense in the girl’s mind.
“Strangelet!” she cries out happily, rising from her resting position, just in time to tower over the black and white girl. Huh. Well that is weird. Lagertha tries to mask her surprise with a smile, but it ends up turning into something far more genuine. Oddness be damned. The girl’s excitement is contagious, and Lagertha reaches over the top of Strange’s head to whuffle in between her ears and then nudge her playfully at the base of her neck.
Then she laughs and shakes her head, feeling the weight of her new horns and the awkward attachement of her wings. “Thank you, I like them too! The horns a little more, I’m not sure flying is really my thing… they have to stay there, unfortunately, until I decide to give them to someone else to use. I think I’m going to do that very soon, because someone else, because it’s important to give everyone a little something. I don’t want to seem greedy.” Lagertha then takes a step back and looks the girl up and down. “Tell me, Miss Strangelet, what have you been up to lately? Why aren’t you all grown up yet?”
Some small part of her wonders if the girl would be able to see her dam again - and what her dam would say of her ascension in the ranks. But Lagertha would never ask Strange to do that for her. As far as she is concerned, it was a one time fluke.
