"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
Time had seemed both eternal and momentary in the wake of his sacrifice for Beqanna. He had not given her the cure to gain anything, had not even imagined he might do more than curl next to her heart and breath his last, rattling breath.
Instead he had been overtaken, warmth and breath and life crashing through him until he had been irrevocably changed. Until he had become something more, something greater. Until it felt as though the very universe had flooded through his veins, burning and scalding until he wasn’t sure whether he had lived or died. Until blackness had consumed him.
When he had awoken, it had been to find himself at the center of a scalded circle in the depths of the meadow. The grass had lain flat around him, a silent witness of the power that had left him here.
At first, he had been disoriented, his entire body tingling as though seltzer now ran through his veins where blood once had been. But as he’d stumbled away from the scene of his return, it had rapidly become clear Beqanna had left him with far more than just his life.
It seemed he was no longer just a boy whose mother had accidentally forgotten him in the midst of a field.
And when he had discovered the universe lay at his very fingertips, there had been nothing to hold him back. Nothing to tie him here. Nothing to keep him from attempting to sate an insatiable curiosity. And so, when he returns, he is not entirely certain how long he had been gone. Not even entirely certain, for a few moments at least, just exactly where he is. It isn’t until he peers around, old memories stirring that he recognizes his once-home. Or at least, what had been as close to a home as anything else he’d had.
It’s curious, that feeling. As though he had been gone eons when in reality it had been no more than a year. Of course, he has found the passage of time to be even less predictable now that it had been in his youth. Indeed, he no longer appears the gangly youth he’d been not so long ago, but rather a man grown. Shimmering pale gold over lean vitality, framed by glinting silver locks. As timeless and ageless as the night sky and as unaware as it too.
An unconscious smile toying with mobile lips, Ten peers around him, allowing the memories to return. Allowing nostalgia to hold him, briefly, in its grip.
isn't it lovely all alone, heart made of glass, my mind of stone
She watches him, silently, from beneath the bare-boned limbs of the tree that half-sheltered her. For whatever reason, she was becoming skilled in the art of picking out those that possessed some sort of celestial connection. It was easier to feel that intense attachment, since she had nothing else to interfere with it. Hollow and void and empty, mechanic in everything she did and said, anytime the star that remained trapped inside the chambers of her heart tried calling out to anyone it thought it could relate to, it was like being drawn by a magnet.
It should be reassuring, to find those she had some sort of connection with, but she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it. If she could so stir up an emotion, she thinks she would be irritated at not having such a connection with her mother, or her sister, or at least anyone that meant anything to her at all. Not random strangers that she passed in the meadow. But whatever chagrin she may have felt at such a thought does not manage to express itself on her face. She just watches him, still and silent, with eyes such a dark purple they almost appeared black.
Above her, the winter sky was clear and dark, with the stars bright and glittering as they surrounded a crescent moon. Carefully, she gathers starlight into several threads, letting it lace and twist around each other as she pulls it down towards the earth. Fingers of starlight brush across the top of the young stallion’s neck, toying with the strands of his mane. They beckon him to turn his head, where he would see the faintly glowing girl that was slowly but deliberately approaching him.
It’s curious, he thinks, how still this world feels. Though life hums and bustles all around him, it feels so silent and still. Like it is holding its breath. Like her heart had subsided into trembling slumber in the wake of such wild disaster.
But through the silence, he feels something stir. It is something he hadn’t quite grown used to yet, that tingling awareness. As though his new, burning soul knows far more about the cosmos than he could ever learn in a hundred or a thousand lifetimes. No matter how much he wishes to know it all, he doubts he ever will.
But he had learned to pay attention to those stirrings. Had learned to trust instincts that seemed to flare so much more larger and demanding now. Like hers, though he doesn’t yet know it. But as he feels the tickle of stardust against the glimmering silver of his mane, he knows his senses had not been wrong. It seems they never are.
He turns slowly, finding her just beneath the knotted and bare branches of a winter tree. She is impossible to miss. Even if he hadn’t known just where he might find her, she would have drawn the eye. The way her pale skin seems to glow, as though the twinkling stars above had become trapped just beneath her surface, would cause any creature to pause and stare for a moment.
It takes him a few shallow breaths to realize why she seems so familiar. Why his senses had sizzled in recognition, even before he’d seen her. She echoed with the faint music of the stars so far above them, a haunting song that only he seemed able to hear. As though one of those fiery giants above had somehow become caged inside equine form. An insufficient cage, no doubt, for these bodies were not made to hold such celestial power.
So, it makes sense then, she could not be like the other horses in this land. Could not even be like him, who so precariously housed untold knowledge of the universe.
He slips forward, approaching with a curious reverence that would never serve to hold him back. She seems to recognize him in some way too, as though she could feel his attachment to the stars in the same way he could feel hers. “You don’t belong here, do you?” he asks, hesitating only a moment before speaking. “Would you like me to bring you home?”
isn't it lovely all alone, heart made of glass, my mind of stone
There is a strange quirk of her lips when he turns to look at her. Strange, because the smile is more expressive than what she usually gives. For once, something seems to reach her eyes – those astonishingly purple eyes, darker than amaranthine – but it does not soften them, the way smiles usually do. Instead it seems to shed light to what endless chasms they are, like when sunlight tries to swim to the bottom of the ocean, only to be swallowed by darkness.
But for all that emptiness, there is no malice. Just as she cannot find kindness or happiness, there is no anger or hostility either.
She just is; she exists. She exists like the sun and the moon, she exists like the river that flows and the flowers that bloom, but there are days that she would argue they feel more than she ever has.
They meet each other almost half way, and she calls back the threads of starlight, letting them fade into the night. “I don’t know if I belong anywhere,” she answers him truthfully, but the words lack the depth that emotion would have brought. No sorrow, no regret, no hopefulness. Just a statement. She steps closer to him, the captive star locked away inside of her (not just inside of her heart, but her entire being – in her bones, in her blood, in her breath) continuing to hum in a quiet sort of excitement, but she cannot fully recognize it. “Home?” She asks, with an almost quizzical tilt of her delicate head, wondering again at how so many seem to be able to see what she is, when she herself cannot. Everyone seems to know how to fix her, and she was still trying to understand all the ways she was broken. “I don’t know where home is.”
“My name is Islas,” she offers him, because it is one of the few things she can tell anyone about herself with absolute certainty.
Anyone who had the privilege of seeing the stars where they hung in the sky would know how impossible they are to fathom. They are so far removed from the understanding of those on this small rock’s surface that one may as well claim them mere things. Ten knows better though. Knows they live, entirely different in their existence than anyone could possibly imagine. It is only right then, that she seems not to understand the impossibly basic emotions of those on this earth.
A star is so much larger. Exponential in their existence, unfathomable in their heart.
Perhaps Islas does not understand, not yet. But Ten knows without a doubt.
She meets him, seeming as drawn forward as he is, the deep, cosmic hue of her eyes unfathomable and expressive in ways others could not begin to see. His own gaze, so common in its pale silvery amber, is trapped by hers, unable to glance away. Doesn’t she realize how incredible she is?
Her words seem to confirm that confusion. But it makes sense, of course. A life as large as a star must struggle to fathom being trapped in such a form. On the cosmic scale, these bodies are so meaningless and paltry to that of such a celestial body. It would be akin to Ten being compressed into the shape of the smallest of bacterium.
He breathes out, stepping closer, eyes fixed unblinkingly. His gaze is so earnest, as simple as it is otherworldly. “I can show you,” he offers on a breathy whisper. A faint smile touches his lips then, gentle despite the awe housed within. “I’m Ten. Come with me, Islas. I can help you remember.”
isn't it lovely all alone, heart made of glass, my mind of stone
He is different than the others she has met, but she cannot single out why. He doesn’t make her feel the way Tiercel did, he can’t fill her up with emotion (it was fabricated and fake, but the closest she could come to it) in that way, but she is drawn to him all the same. He reminds her a little of the star stallion she had met, but somehow…more. The energy that radiated from him seemed bigger, more distinct. He was looking at her like he knew her, like he could see past the cold marble that was her face and to the star that was trapped beneath.
She didn’t know how else to connect with anyone, other than to listen to that magnetic pull inside her chest.
He steps closer, and she doesn’t flinch away, but she doesn’t reach for him, either. She watches him, taking in the expressive face – he is quiet, subdued, but still so much more vivid than she has ever been. The lines of his face did not seem to be carved from stone, and she watched the way his lips tilt into a smile and how different emotions reflect in his amber eyes. She wonders what he must think when he looks at her, if he is bothered by the infinite darkness of her eyes, or if it disturbs him when nothing flickers across her impassive face. “But where are we going?”
Perhaps others only see the impossibly still reflection of her features and wonder what emotions linger beneath. Ten is not like them though. He does not wonder. Does not need to ask. He already knows he could never understand. Already knows it is much too large and unreadable.
Maybe she would understand when she finally saw the other stars up close. Maybe she would impart some of the wisdom to him. And maybe none of those things would happen. Maybe he is just a young, foolishly fanciful boy whose curiosity and daydreams are impossibly large for him.
Still, he would probably never stop trying. He doesn’t know how else to be. He is still the boy who would sacrifice himself for the powerfully beating heart for Beqanna. And he is still a boy who would burn himself to atoms at the center of a star if that is what was needed.
“Let me show you,” he whispers, a charmingly delighted smile curling his lips as they finally draw close enough to touch. He should be terrified, being skin to skin with such as she. But he can only hold her in awe and wonder. Every beat of his heart urges him onward, forward, endless curiosity and a boundless love of all things life his only weapons.
And just as easily as they draw together, he whisks them away. He had grown skilled in practice. The moment he’d understood the new energy coursing through those many months ago (though to him, it had been years), he had hurtled himself from corner to corner of the universe, heedless of any stray thought that cautioned to slow down. Until that caution had slowly burned low and flickered out. Until nothing had prevented him from going wherever, or whenever, he pleased.
And so, with Islas at his side, he tumbles them through the very fabric of reality, until they they are spit into the vast weightlessness of the distant cosmos, the giant, hungry stars their only companions.
