"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 just killed off what was left of the optimist in me
When she finally turns her hooves in the direction of Tephra, she is feeling defeated on top of all of the exhaustion that is setting into her bones. She tells the girls sternly to go home – Austra is distraught, and Isilme is irate, but she will speak to them again later. She will make them understand their futures as princesses, for even if Lie takes the crown away from her, they will still be royalty thanks to them. They need to start learning how to behave as princesses should, though she feels as though taming their spirits will take quite a toll on her.
She moves slowly now that she is on her own once more, her hooves tracing the borders of Loess, Taiga, and the rebel kingdom Sylva before they bring her to Tephra’s border, and despite their alliance she does not cross into the westernmost kingdom. She has stepped on too many toes lately, and though she doesn’t think it would ruffle Leliana’s feathers any, she simply doesn’t want to risk it. The optimism that she had sheltered and kindled through most of her life is slowly starting to fade away, bit by bit, and she doesn’t know if she can promise complete composure as she waits for the other queen.
Her mother should be here – in fact, she expects Cress to appear any moment and she longs to bury her head in her mother’s warm neck. Her mother doesn’t come, though, and she shivers from the sensation of being so terribly alone. Has something happened to Cress? She hadn’t seen her at the battle either, but perhaps she had been close to her queen in the center of the kingdom.
Lost in her thoughts, her brown eyes staring worriedly across the ruined kingdom, she barely begins to notice as the sun starts to slip down over the horizon. There is simply too much.
Leliana does not expect the daughter of one of her closest friend’s, or Magnus’ granddaughter, to arrive on the shores of her kingdom, but she is not terribly surprised when it happens. She can practically feel the defeat of the girl coming off of her in waves and she angles her head toward where she arrives, toeing the border of the kingdom as if it would rise up and bite her for taking a step too far inland.
Curious, and feeling a pang of sadness for the Queen of the East, Leliana shakes some of the dust that has accumulated on her coat and steps through a portal, breathing into existence before the mare. Her face is neutral, her eyes still burning molten gold, but there is a kindness there that has not yet bled from her.
“Dawn,” she greets her with a hint of warmth, angling her head and studying her. There is something about her that is nearly broken—something beaten and sad, the candle of her flickering n the light. “There’s no need to stay on the border. Come further inland.” She steps back and motions the mare forward, a honey-laced wind twisting through the air and pulling her mane forward.
The ground beneath her is still charred in far too many places, the ash piling in corners of her kingdom. She can feel the scars of the war everywhere she looks and the loss of it, the loss she has suffered, feels like a blade between her ribs. She takes a steadying breath, frowning down at the ground. In response, flowers blossom through the scars, lush and magnificent, blanketing the immediate area.
It is enough to bring a small smile to the tired magician’s face—a woman still coping with the attack of her people, the loss of her family, the world of grey she now straddles. But it is enough and when she looks back to the mare, there is some understanding in her unseeing, depthless gaze.
i just killed off what was left of the optimist in me
As she waits, she ponders the heartbreak she has experienced in her short life, and cannot help but wonder if there is any happiness looming anywhere on the horizon. Rhae’s dismissal of her, and those words sent on the wind only to her the first time she had visited Tephra; Litotes caring touches and gentle words meant to soothe her soul; Clayton’s passionate touch that had set her skin ablaze. Rhae had vanished without a trace not long after that conversation, and it seems that Clayton has followed in his footsteps. Her relationship with Litotes is broken beyond repair, and she fears that all of the friendships she has made in her time here are also beginning to crumble.
It is hard to push back the tears that prick in the corners of her eyes as the magician queen arrives before her, simply blinking into the space in front of her as if she were always standing there. Dawn doesn’t flinch before her, merely meets her eyes with pained ones of her own, sighing softly as Leliana invites her into the kingdom. She steps across the border gratefully, glad to put Loess and the other southern territories behind as they move deeper into Tephra.
She watches curiously as flowers burst through the nearby charred areas of Tephra, and a quiet smile plays at her lips as the earth becomes alive beneath her hooves. Leliana asks her of her intentions and she looks back to the magician, trying desperately to quell the waves of despair threatening to overwhelm her. Leliana is her mother’s friend, and while they may be relatives, she does not want to burden the queen with problems that she will probably view as petty.
“I’m here... for my mother, mainly,” she murmurs, her eyes falling as she speaks. “I thought she would greet me when I got here; she always would when I would visit her in Loess. Is she here?” She glances back up to Leliana, praying that nothing has happened to her mother. She could visit Loess and her grandsire to find out, but she isn’t so sure she wants to make another trip to that place, especially not today of all days.
With a sigh, she continues. “Though I suppose that is not the only reason I am here,” she admits, eyes darkening with emotion. “The war is barely days past, and my general, who leads Pangea, has challenged me for my throne. The throne that was given to me not even a season past, one that I have spent over a year trying to prove that I am worthy of.” She breaks off, not wanting to spill her entire guts, but hardly able to contain herself. “He knows that I am hardly a warrior myself. I would have died during the recent battle here if not for my dear friend Caelestra. If he wins the fight, I fear for what will happen to the East, and my children in the Cove.”
She swallows hard before looking at Leliana again, offering her an unsteady smile. “I apologize for thrusting all of this upon you. I’m just scared, and unsure of my next steps in the days to come. I guess I just wanted a hug from my mom, which is why I came all this way.”
Leliana is quiet as the mare opens up her heart and all of the hurt pours out. She feels it cracking through her own grief, her own hurt, but she quiets it in her breast. She remains silent, her eyes still milk white, glowing faintly as she stares at the young Queen and then back out at the ashen land around them.
“Your mother isn’t here,” she finally confesses, and she is grateful for the strength of her magic that still manages to fortify her, that still manages to keep her voice steady and her lip from quivering. She is not the young girl who grew up on these shores. She is not the girl who cowed so easily.
It doesn’t mean she does not feel the hurt as a physical thing.
Still, she cannot lie to Dawn and she does not try. “She still remains in Loess for now.” There is a moment as Leliana pauses, the corner of her frown deepening in thought. “I could perhaps pass along a message from you, or even open up a short-lived communication, if you wanted to talk to her.” She couldn’t steal her back—not yet, not so soon after all of the bloodshed—but she could do that much at least.
But that’s not the entire reason that drives Dawn to her borders, and she knows that. So she continues to listen, watching flowers unfold around them, the act of bringing them to life slowly both a boon to her magic and exhausting. If she could, the entire island would be alive again—but, as it is, she remains Queen of the Ash, the land still slumbering underneath the thick blanket of her mistakes.
“Warriors come in all forms, Dawn. Do not mistake your peace-loving heart as weak.” She turns her gaze to the woman, studying her. “You are worthy of your title and your position and your people. You have nothing to prove to anyone.” She knows that there is much to Litotes that does not meet the eye. There is betrayal and hurt and hunger and it would take more than her magic to unpack all of that here.
“You will do what is right, regardless of the outcome, and you will have Tephra’s support.”
A pause as she sends a soft wave of reassurance to the mare’s way.
