assuredly, we must all hang together
I have yet to meet the ruler here, and I have to say…. TOTALLY disappointed.
He does exist right? I mean, I know he does. I've picked up bits and pieces about him from the minds of the half a dozen residents in the Valley. But I want to talk to him, and soon. A slow burn has grown in my chest ever since I realized not only does the Chamber have more members, but that shadow place has enticed my son.
He gets his idiocy from his father.
The Valley can be great, I know it. I'm not about to lie back and let the Chamber fuck the world without getting in on the action. Nothing changes, and inevitably, conflict will return to Beqanna.
But what to wear, what to wear.
I waltz around the Valley like I belong. Because, to be perfectly fucking frank, I do. My heart and soul is here and if I were ever to die and be buried (unlikely, but still), you'd better believe I'd be buried here.
And also haunt the shit out of foals.
The Valley is in my blood, and I don't need anyone's acceptance or permission.
I stretch my wings, unwilling to take flight during the breezeless summer day. Instead, I revisit old haunts and relearn every curve like a lover. But oh how more infinitely satisfying this place is.
Of course, it's not like I have a lot to compare that to. I was the Virgin queen for way more years than I was the fucked one.
I settle near the edge of the tree line, enjoying the play of shadows as the afternoon dips into the evening. A red bay mare with enormous hawk wings, and an entirely average body. I lazily cast my mind around, and pick up only a stray thought here and there.
Come out, come out, wherever you are.
G A L L O W S
We must all hang together or, assuredly, we shall all hang separately.
|
 no matter what they say, I am still the king
It is quiet – as the Valley has been for the last year. Dormant like the sleeping bear through winter. Isn’t that what routinely happens here in Beqanna? At least, with many of the kingdoms. They flourish and flow like the rapid rivers, and then trickle slowly and dry up like the parched skin of a stranded man.
Eight felt Gallows when she entered the Valley – that familiar taste in the air. They are not strangers. Why, in fact, Gallows was queen when Eight first discovered the Valley as but a child. He joined her little orphan army and wrecked havoc upon the world. And now look how he has grown.
The thing about home, is that it never fades away. Librette and Covet both belonged here – they lived, bled, and died for the Valley, and continued to return. She was a mysterious woman, the Valley, and she forever held her grasp tight on those who traversed through. Of course Gallows belonged, the Valley was home.
“Gallows – long time no see, hm?” He appears at the edge of the trees, his skin materializing from the thick summer air, his wings stretching lazily towards the ground. Closer he walks, settling in beside you, his gaze trailing across the open land of the Valley. “What brings you back from the dead?”
∞ and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
assuredly, we must all hang together
God, Gallows, you are so stupid.
I knew that name sounded familiar and I should have checked further. I read minds for heaven's sake, and yet I didn't connect the dots of Eight the child (to me anyways) and Eight, the current ruler of the Valley.
Let's just call this one an off day.
A rush of pride fills my chest. Eight is all grown up and running a kingdom. Our Kingdom. And not gonna lie, I feel weirdly satisfied that the Valley is in the hands of someone who has known her for ages. I'm not going to say that, because this isn't a damn Hallmark movie, but it's apparent I am pleased.
"Hello Eight." I grin. "Same old story. I was bored."
Which is bullshit, of course.
I glance over the hills. "This place, honestly. I keep coming back. Pretty sure at this point I'm the Valley's bitch." I shake my head to clear all of the memories that come rushing back. I fix my clear brown eyes on Eight. "What can I do for you, and for our home?"
Let's hear what the king has to say. How well does he know his kingdom, and to what use can he put me? Ambition, after all, has never been my goal. I had the throne nearly thrust upon me. It was useful, but only inasmuch as it helped me achieve my goal of fortifying the Valley. Scullery wench or mistress, it makes no difference to me.
G A L L O W S
We must all hang together or, assuredly, we shall all hang separately.
|
 | | Skegg\uc0\u491 ld, Sk\'e1lm\u491 ld, Skildir ro Klofnir | The girl reeks of sadness.
She can block mind reading (a trait she's acquired from her father, but is unaware) but it doesn't take a psychic to peer into those orange eyes and see the truth. Too stoic for her young age - clearly jaded by something. Mortality, mostly. Though wasn't father immortal? He felt the immortality slip away the minute Thorunn entered the world - head first, with a crack of her neck - and raise as though nothing happened. Was it transference? Was it just his time? Thorunn hasn't drawn any conclusions yet, because the truth will break her heart.
But the stoic, sad child she is ... she's still a child of duty. While the last year (has it been a year? Greater than? This puts holes in her heart) has passed without any semblance of duty she's come to realize it's time to emerge. Her sister wanted it of her. Her father would have wanted it of her.
One foot in front of the other.
It doesn't take her long to find Eight - that's his name, right? She met him once as a young child. She's still so young, with the gentle slope of feminine shoulders with taut, childish muscles. She's short, like her father, but with her mother's copper color. And of course those orange eyes.
"Hello Eight," she says, her voice a deadpan that started as an attempt to mirror her father and stuck around out of habit. She's unsure of what her normal cadence is, she only knows what she's clung to from her father. "I'm Thorunn," she says to the mare with him. | | Thorunn | | immortal, mind-reading immune daughter of Covet and Librette |
assuredly, we must all hang together
Well, shit. THat's annoying.
Have you ever seen a black hole? Of course not, because they're in space, but bear with me here. They suck in everything around them while literally being nothing at all.
This girl is a mental black hole and it is SO not fair. Is this what normal feels like, this silence except for my own thoughts? Ever since I was a filly I've had the thoughts of others whirling around beside my own thoughts. It's oddly disconcerting seeing someone but not hearing their thoughts. Like showing up to a party naked and finding everyone dressed.
Who am I kidding? I would probably do that.
Orange eyes. I do know a few horses with orange eyes, although most notable was Covet, the pumpkin king. Perhaps this little copper flower is one of his.
"Normally I'd tell you I know that, but not this time. That is some pretty powerful blockage you have damming up your thoughts."
I eye the young girl with a slightly irritated air.
"Gallows. It's not entirely pleasant to meet you, Thorunn."
G A L L O W S
We must all hang together or, assuredly, we shall all hang separately.
|
| | Skegg\uc0\u491 ld, Sk\'e1lm\u491 ld, Skildir ro Klofnir | Thorunn has never met a mind reader, at least as far as she knows. Eight has magic, she knows this, but doesn't understand the implications behind it. She'd never witnessed the full breadth of magic in Beqanna and what all it could do. How would she feel if she knew Eight - who always seemed so placid - set fire to Beqanna with a mare named Evrae? What would she do?
Magic is not something she knows or understands.
She's unaware that Gallows can read minds, the same way she's unaware that she has an ability to block mind reading. Gallows disturbance at her words confuse Thorunn. She isn't quite so much like her father that she can hide her every thought and feeling. The confusion sweeps across her face and furrows her delicate, childish brow. Maybe one day she'll grow into his rough ways.
"Excuse me?" she asks. | | Thorunn | | immortal, mind-reading immune daughter of Covet and Librette |
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