"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
i never said that i would be your lover
i never said that i would be your friend
i never said that i would take no other
She’s tried to come here before but never actually crossed into the strange canyonlands called Pangea. It seems odd that a place like this resides so close to Hyaline, her mountains giving way to sandstone canyons but it isn’t really. Rivers have worn away in Pangea what was forced toward the heights by tectonic shift in Hyaline. These Eastern lands are sisters in a way that she has never realized until this moment. In the bottom of the canyon the wind whips around her viciously, tearing at her blonde locks and over-drying her reddened eyes.
There had been distractions and excuses to keep her away from Pangea after he had taken it. Oh, how proud of him she had been. It was a meaningful victory to her, an act of defiance that told the world that Litotes would not be a footnote in the history of a Kingdom that had never deserved him. Still, she hadn’t managed to come here, to tell him…
Carved limestone walls rise up around her widely and then so narrow that her belly brushes against them as she passes. The canyons whisper and they howl, reciting an ancient dirge. Emerging from this tight space the sabino mare finds herself in a strange little subway canyon, a flow of clear water emerges from deeper in where the walls nearly close overhead, only a thin stream of grey light filtering down to the sandy ground. A deadfall rests within the hollow place, bleached white and smoothed by wind and water and time. Kensa’s ears flick because the wind is quieter now, or perhaps quieter here, a soft haunting hum like a song her mothers used to sing teases her. Sliding up against the old tree tucking her shoulder beneath, taking shelter as she listens hard…
But all her heart talks about is him.
So many times she has seen him die, her Lion man gone to the plague they had carried around for so long like a badge of courage. She’d always been sure the two of them would make it, would overcome it and be stronger than those who had hidden from it. In the end everyone had succumbed and when it seemed like Beqanna herself was going to fall away beneath the weight of sickness Litotes had saved her. Had joined in saving them all.
I won’t ask you to stay. The last words she can remember saying to him. She must have told him she loved him the day he’d died, in those last moments they had together but she cannot remember doing it, only the shrieking fear and anger and pain of watching the love of her life die. The rushing in her head hadn’t stopped since then, not as her body rounded again, his child growing inside her once more. A child she didn’t want, knowing it would look so much like him, that his eyes would glitter from its tiny face. That was wrong, wasn’t it? She was supposed to crave even the smallest part of him. As much as she should want the babe in her belly Kensa has learned that Rage is the lover of Grief and a small part will not be enough.
“Lie.” Her voice, keening, echoes against the canyon walls, joining the ancient strain carried through the labyrinth. She did not show this weakness in Hyaline, there she must be smiles and confidence. That lesson was learned hard, and even with Lie dead she will not be seen as a fool by the Cove’s plaster saints ever again. Her loyalties are to Hyaline, to her family, to truth both jagged and beautiful. The thing about truth is, not everyone deserves to know its every verse. Some things should be reserved only for those who have earned our deepest trust. No one has earned the right to see her break this way. “Lie, I can’t.” The sob wracks her and her eyes spill tears that burn like fire along the raw edges of her lids. Her mane sticks to the damp streaks on her dusty cheeks when she drops her head. It is too loud and heavy to hold up atop the tired bow of her neck. Legs aching she shifts them, the the weight of her belly strains them but she doesn’t lower herself to the ground, doing so would mean giving up the burl of wood burrowing painfully into her shoulder and she needs that pain like she needs oxygen, the external hurt the only thing that cuts through the ache in her chest.
boy what's normal to you? 'cause that sure ain't normal to me.
There is only an inkling of the death he experienced when the fairies returned him to his home. With each passing hour, the subtle pain of his passing drifts. There is only emotion: vulnerability, confusion, fear. He only has the vaguest idea of the sacrifice he made (and how that sacrifice is still selfish). Kensa does cross his mind, of course. Every second she crosses his mind, though he can hardly put the pieces together.
There are glimpses of her that flash in his head, and yet the images do not seem to fit. No chronological order can be set. Each image is more painful than the next, though, and he can hardly stand to watch the fear in her eyes deepen. Something is terribly wrong with these memories; the way they robotically pass behind his eyes feels as if they were placed there by some alien entity. One particular second chokes him - lodges in the back of his throat, rises to trigger his gag reflex, then rushes back down.
The sour feeling in his stomach forces him to a stop. Before him is the sky, wide and blue like tone of his thoughts. Centuries old canyons stretch across the skyline, hiding the shadows that whisper louder than ever to the Archon. He cringes against the bitter winter wind, somber eyes watching a few tumbleweeds pass ten feet ahead of him.
A lion calls to him, one so fierce and unbridled he has to bite his tongue to come back to reality. No amount of comfort within his home is enough - there is always this crippling sadness, this solitude, this isolation, insecurity - always this self-inflicted suffering he sits in. Lie would not wish this inner turmoil on his worst enemies (he can think of one . . . though he is certain she punishes herself enough). The cremello thought when he stood so close to Starsin that his new power would come and go without question. Now, he knows that it (power) is changing him - coating his emotions in the icky tar of his darkness.
The itching of a shifter’s skin will not stop. This time he draws blood from his tongue.
Keening from a deeper canyon echoes out of the thick cracks in Pangea’s skin. Litotes falls even more silent, already tense muscles locking as tightly as they can. He looks like a vigilant and frightened hero when he turns toward the direction the cries come from: his mane whipping around a piercing gaze, his left back leg paralyzed an inch above the ground, the way his muscles ripple with anticipation. He knows that sound; he wished desperately that he would never hear it again.
Rocks and dust fly beneath his hooves when he darts to a portion of the canyon he can stumble down. Sharpened pieces of shale leave bloody cuts on his legs and barrel. He does not feel their unforgiving sting - he does not care. The cremello hardly notices the tunnel-vision he gets when he faces Kensa, though if he does notice, he will not care. If she sounds as if she is pain, if she needs him to commit murder, even if she is just calling to him with that silken voice - he will rush to her side as if nothing in the world exists. Never again will he hurt her; for the rest of his life he will be making his mistakes up to her.
“Kensa?” he calls, taking a few-step stumble toward the water. The fear in his voice is clear. She leans against a fallen tree, belly round with a child he is certain is his.
“Kensa . . . wh-” but he does not finish because he is falling all over himself to get to her side. The second their faces brush in an embrace he means to be comforting, every bit of memory from his trip up the Mountain returns. “Oh, fuck . . .” he groans, wincing against the rush of emotion. His breathe stops for a moment and he grows dizzy.
The enormity of it all hits him like a tidal wave.
“Kensa,” his voice breaks. “Kensa.” There is nothing left for him to say. How many times will he hurt her, intentional or not? The weight of every little scrape he has made against her heart burns exact replicas on his own.
“Am I unforgivable?”
and if i fall would you know that to do? and if i'm caught up would you stay?
05-14-2019, 10:39 PM (This post was last modified: 05-14-2019, 10:47 PM by Kensa.)
i never said that i would be your lover
i never said that i would be your friend
i never said that i would take no other
Further down the canyon stones clatter but she recognizes the sound reluctantly, not moving at all from her sorrow or her place wedged up against the bleached trunk. Pangea is a place of darkness, secrets and perhaps even monsters. She should be afraid for herself in a land gone all the more lawless with its Lord dead, especially when that place is Pangea, but she just doesn’t care. Not for herself, not for the child heavy and restless in her belly. All the pain she has kept carefully to herself is roaring in her ears, tingling in her teeth, and forcing the air from her lungs before she can capture oxygen. All the while his face is there behind her eyes: silver snowflakes catching starlight... flickering to the blood on his lips when he last said her name; the joy in every fiber of his being when he met his daughter... becoming a lion screaming silence into her throat so that her strangled wails turn into ragged gasps.
If he had taken the cure for himself she would have been glad of it. If he had given it instead to one of their children she would still be mourning, but the bitter, cloying flavor of guilt would not accompany the grief. The last time she had seen him he had sired this child and then she had sent him away, or so it had seemed. Really she only meant to tell him she did not want to hold him back from the life he was building, that she didn’t expect him to come running back to her anymore. She hadn’t said those words though, only left him thinking she didn’t still want him more than any other thing in this world. Or that is what she assumes when she replays the moment and wishes she had at least watched him go.
Kensa’s head is hanging when the ghostly stallion stumbles into the sand opposite her, in her tear filled eyes he swims like a spectre his movements stretched and compressed, glittering. His voice is tight when he says her name. He says her name. Her dark lashes flutter, eyes stinging as she lifts her head, nostrils flaring as she struggles to catch her breath. “Lie?" Her topaz eyes ring with white, and her pale hooves shift anxiously because she knows she should not believe. He cannot be here and yet she cannot close her eyes to the image, she needs to fill up on him even if its a lie. She was wrong before… even just a tiny piece of him is suddenly all she’s ever desired.
The discovery that he is real is far more overwhelming.
He splashes through the water and flies towards her and she can’t even catch her bearings enough to react beyond tossing her head before he is there, pressing his face to hers in a gesture so familiar that she whimpers. Oh, fuck… he says and she laughs, hysteria gripping her. He is real, solid, himself. “You. Its you.” Her face is wet and she presses her cheek to his. A moment later drawing back to press her forehead to his, every breath catching in her tight throat. He says her name again, then again, and it is like he has given it to her, like it’s the first time she’s heard it in her life and it is beautiful. Kensa is sobbing still, and the pain has not subsided but twists around her like a serpent, her chest is a too-small cage for her frantic heard.
“No” A pant, still unable to catch her breath, clenching her teeth against the cry that has curled up in her throat. “Never.” Whispers, all she can manage as she tries to gain mastery over herself enough to tell him everything she was supposed to if this impossible moment ever came.
Instead she gasps as the coils tighten and fear dilates her pupils, her eyes too bright. ”Litotes." Its not too early, but so much is wrong. This isn’t her place, she isn’t ready. Her water breaks, her shocked body heedless of her fear. Kensa shifts frantically, light from above flashing over the gold veins in her hide as she sidesteps and then drops to the ground almost before she can decide to do so. This is only the third time, but it is happening more quickly than before, too quickly for her to make sense of it. She tries to rise again, front legs striking out but they don’t support her and the sabino squeals anxiously. A sweat breaks over her skin as she forgets herself, forgets he is really here. “Stay with me, please stay.” The words are broken by panic and pain as her rebelling body brings forth his son.
“I love you." She has to say it, afraid for some reason that she won’t get to say it again, irrational with pain. Somehow telling him the things she has wanted to without meaning to, or understanding that she has.
When the boy is born into Pangea, his mother lies flat with glassy eyes and her shallow breaths gently stir the dust near her dirty, tear streaked, and sweat darkened face.
boy what's normal to you? 'cause that sure ain't normal to me.
Kensa is just as real and startling to Litotes as he is to her. There is something about the raw pain in her eyes that wrenches his heart into millions of glass shards. Her vulnerability in this moment is a part of her he has yet to experience - forget the anger, the disagreements, the pain, the lovemaking - there is life-altering beauty and intimacy between them. He feels broken, though: split in two because whatever bonding they may do in this moment is at the expense of Kensa.
Though she may tell him he is forgivable, he feels as if he is too far gone, too cruel for her loving arms.
The next few moments are an out of body experience. As Kensa shivers beneath her pain, a loud ringing reverberates in Lie’s ears. His eyes flick back and forth as if in slow motion, the rock and water and dust all blurring into one brown blur. When she falls to the ground his mouth falls open like a fish gaping for air out of water. He chokes on words that never make it out, stumbling from fear for his wife and the force of the memories still swirling in his mind. Lie only snaps out of it when his hooves clatter and splash in the water. The cold wet seeps into the fur of his legs, and he shakes his head before tripping back to Kensa’s side.
Litotes shifts into his lion and crouches at the Primarch’s back. His wild eyes flick from the opening above them to the canyons in front of and behind them. He guards her as she passes through the stages of labor, occasionally passing his muzzle over her neck to wipe the sweat away (and to soothe his anxiety, to feel a pulse still there).
When Kelynen finally arrives, Kensa’s eyes are far too glassy for Lie’s comfort. Panic rises in his throat and escapes as a frantic growl. He curls around the deflated barrel of his wife to check the breath of their newborn son. The little one’s chest rises and falls so Litotes pounces to Kensa’s face with a fear he did not know could exist.
“Kensa,” he murmurs, pressing terrified kisses to her face. “I love you. I love you so much,” he murmurs into her skin, tears pricking at his eyes. “He’s beautiful, Kensa. Please,” when he chokes on his words he also presses his stomach to the ground and chin to his paws. “Please tell me you’re okay.”
and if i fall would you know that to do? and if i'm caught up would you stay?
Litotes
@[Kensa] this is garbage in comparison to yours im sorry :/
05-25-2019, 10:59 PM (This post was last modified: 05-25-2019, 11:27 PM by Kensa.)
i never said that i would be your lover
i never said that i would be your friend
i never said that i would take no other
In the moment Kensa drops to the earth Litotes stumbles back and fear rings her topaz eyes in white because he isn’t staying, is he even here at all? Panic narrows her vision as her hooves make useless tracks in the dirt and sand and the creature the rejoins her is a white lion whose presence forces a primal sound from her throat. It’s the fear tied into her last painful memory of that lion that actually reminds her who he is.
He stands at her back, and the fear subsides, and she becomes only a wild laboring thing, struggling in the dirt.
The child that slides into the world has the great fortune of being well and whole and sneezes himself into breathing when the great white cat inspects him. His mother does not move to look at him or reach for him like she had with Brunhilde or Valek. He is a plain thing by the standards set by his siblings. Rich palomino, with a blazed face - so like his mother’s had once been - White limbs, but none of the gold that ought to delineate the colored hide from the white markings as in his mother and elder brother. He is beautiful and wrong.
And she knows it without seeing him.
Lie’s white lion leaps up to her still head, pressing kisses and oaths of affection into her skin and the Primarch only closes her eyes. When he lies down before her she draws a long, deep breath, slowly raising her head and rolling onto her elbow. “I am...and you’re really here.” She says once more, tears washing the dirt and apathy out of her dilated eyes. Kensa gazes at him a moment more, before looking back toward the boy, sticky, wet, filthy with dirt and fluids still getting his bearings in his new world.
Kensa looks and feels nothing. Not that sweet, painful rush of love she’s felt all the times before. Not the pride and gut-wrenching sensation of responsibility. Nothing at all.
When she had carried him his kicks had made her smile, left her excited for another child. Losing Lie had diminished that some, but it had still been there from time to time. She tries to recall that as she gets to her feet, to summon up the things she should be feeling. She cleans him, but it is hard to do it with the care she would give any of the others. I don’t want him. The thought is heavy and dreadful but as true as anything she’s ever uttered aloud. When she glances at the boy’s father she aches at the betrayal she feels she is commiting by not loving this son like the last. So Kensa forces a smile, and it appears she is only tired not an abominable and unloving dam.
“Kelynen.” A name meaning, among other things love. A command to herself, an apology to the boy she can hardly be bothered to touch. He whimpers a bit, and she snorts, nudging him as he takes longer than Valek or Brunhilde to find his feet. Once, at long last he is nursing at her side (she hopes his father is enamored enough with him for the both of them) Kensa her full attention back to Litotes. She’s wanted to speak to him all this while and couldn't, afraid the inattention to their son would make her even more horrible and obvious to her husband.
“Are you alright Litotes? I watched you die...I saw you dead and now you’re here and you’re you.” She extends her muzzle, to touch him and find him solid again, she’ll probably do that 100 times before they can part again.
