"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
The grass grows thick and green, the rivers rush by on their path to the sea, the many creatures frolic on the land and in the sky, and in the centre of it all, the mountain glows cheerily, bathing them all in its warmth and benevolence.
And the equine inhabitants go about their quiet lives, eating the lush greenery, drinking from the cool rivers, and basking in the glow their tropical home provides. A veritable paradise.
It’s not a life she’d ever seen for herself, if she reflects upon her past. Once upon a time she’d never expected to find such a place. That is, a place where she’d be accepted, welcomed into the fold. She’d thought her days doomed to living on the fringes. An outcast.
But instead she’s here, with a beautiful home, a wonderful lover, seven beautiful and kind children (well, six beautiful and five kind …), and a eighth child on the way. A simple life, perhaps, but it’s all she’s ever wanted. And not a day goes by that she does not marvel on the happy coincidence allowed her and Weir to stumble into each other in the field so many years ago.
There is only one cloud that darkens the joy that radiates her life. Their fifth child. Taiga.
Taiga has always been a willful child, quick to temper and quick to bite (with both her mouth and her tongue), but lately it has begun to change to something more. Something darker. With Lumi’s recent acquisition of power and her move to the sandy beaches of Nerine, Taiga’s attitude has grown more and more moody, more and more jealous. Both Weir and Eira are simply at a loss for what to do. All their other children have been sweet of temperament, even the children not of their blood. She has no idea what to do with a girl that lashes out at the slightest perceived provocation.
So for the moment she wanders, admittedly avoiding the girl while wracking her brains for what to do. But there is nothing she can think of.
Finally in the afternoon she approaches Tephra’s southern border, stepping in the shallows of the river to cool her swollen ankles with a sigh. She is looking forward to this little one, yet another addition to their ever growing family (and at the very least it will be nice to have something to take her mind off Taiga, though she would never admit to herself that is part of the reason for her enthusiasm).
Her brown eyes track the path of a coot (Fulica americana, thanks Weir) as it lifts away from the shallows and soars low over the water. Despite the late season it’s still quite warm, thanks to the volcano and it’s steam, and as her eyes follow the bird on it’s flight, she finds herself missing the winter season (well, at least partly - she’s glad to have left the Tundra). Her eyes move past the bird and up into the sky above, and in a moment, little snowflakes begin falling down, dusting her bay coat. She smiles, her most troublesome daughter momentarily forgotten.
Magnus had long ago given up any dreams that he may have held about peace.
He did not think he deserved it; he did not think he had earned it. After all, so much of his life had been spent sowing just the opposite. He had a warmongers heart that beat steadily in his chest, thudding with the precision and rhythm of a war drum. Once, it had too easily stirred him to action, to heat, to the use of teeth and hoof before words. Once, it had roiled in his belly like a hunger that could not be sated.
With age, Magnus had grown to ease it, control it, leashing the beast so that he could live his life without answering its baying call. He no longer responded when it beat and called to him, but he still knew that it was there; he still knew what he was capable of when his back was up against the wall. And thus, the peace, the beauty of Tephra still felt very much a dream—and not one that he felt that he deserved.
Still, he was glad for it—gladder still that there were others who could partake in the beauty. Those who he knew deserved it far more than he. To watch the land grow, to watch it fill with families and those who were simply seeking peace, seeking purpose. It was more than he would have ever hoped to see.
Peaceful, contemplative, he sees Eira out of the corner of his eye, although this time without the child he had met before. For a moment he watches her, watches as she tracks the path of the bird, as she glances up into the sky, watches as the snow begins to fall gently down upon her, dusting her back and haunches. Smiling at the return of her gift, Magnus makes his way over toward her, nickering when he was several feet away to let her know of his coming presence. “Hello there, Eira! Enjoying your winter wonderland?”
out of the blue out into the loneliest place that you'll ever know I carried the world just as far as I could but the damage had taken its toll
Tephra is unlike most places Weir has ever been to, or even visited, let alone taken up residence in. Sure he had seen volcanoes, read about them in volumes of books with their spines worn from use, the pages thin and flaking. It’s not even the tropics of it all that take him off guard, thrust him into unknown, it is simply living in it-day to day. The heat is unusual after so long spent basking in the glory of ice and snow, swirling across the Dale in the form of a blizzard. The heat is unusual and the cold is, well, it is not so bearable now as it once was.
In the past he was snow, the chill in the air causing him no harm, he didn’t even bat an eye in sub zero temperatures such as parts of the Tundra could lead to. Now the very air of winter sent a chill into his old bones and he often had to retreat to the liquid rivers of lava that graphed their way across the land. Life was so very different now, different but not bad.
He still had his family, Eira, their children, he had so much to be thankful for. They had food and shelter and nothing currently ailed them so in reality he should be so very happy, so very happy and full. But he can’t deny he felt empty, and he did his best to mention only vaguely or in short when Eira asked after his solemn face. He missed the snow, creating magnificent things of ice, sharing his adventures and knowledge with replicas of things otherwise unknown to the others. He missed his pull on Magic, he felt vulnerable without it, it was his most prized possession, handy in a pinch and it oft kept the Magicians at bay. They did not like to pry their fingers where they might get bit.
Most of all he missed Darwin and he knew that time was long passed, Darwin faded along with the Dale and perhaps that is what hurt him most. It was as if the magnificent tortoise had never existed at all.
Weir finds Eira among the falling snow, gentle dollops of flakes fluttering down to the earth and it is magical to behold. Not long after is the leader of their small clan, Magnus and Weir offers the man a warm smile from his grayed lips. He isn’t the young man he used to be, but its hard to tell with Weir- he is so very childlike. “Halloo and good day, good day I say Magnus,” he beams, amber eyes bright. “You’ve just missed it, fulica americana, lovely little creature but you know, off it went as they do.” He dismissed the creature with a flick of his tail and blinked brightly at the others.
So absorbed is she in the gently falling flakes (and their sweet kiss upon her coat), that she doesn’t hear Magnus’ approach until his soft nicker rings out through the warm air. She starts and looks around, but her surprise turns to welcome when Magnus’ familiar voice follows the nicker. “Yes!” She looks back up at the flakes, smiling, before turning her gaze to the buckskin stallion. “I am definitely enjoying having my abilities back.” Once again she’s struck by irony - once she would have given anything to be rid of them. Now she sees her abilities as a blessing rather than a curse.
The sound of yet more hooves approaching makes her look about, and her smile widens even further when she realizes who it is. “Weir!” She steps quickly out of the shallows to join him, greeting him with a soft nicker and a gentle kiss on his cheek. She can’t help but smirk just a little when he mentions the coot - she’d been right about the name!
She’s suddenly reminded of Taiga (she looks so like her father), and her mood sours for a moment. She’s almost tempted to broach the subject - they need to figure out something to do with the damn girl - but she remembers Magnus’ presence, and her lips remain sealed. As kind and knowledgeable as Magnus must surely be, she doesn’t want to unload their family problems on him.
So instead she refastens a friendly smile on her lips, and turns her gaze back to the buckskin stallion. “How is Raeg’n doing lately by the way? She hasn’t yet visited me to learn about my powers. I’m guessing you must be keeping her busy with training?”
EIRA
nothing's only words, that's how hearts get hurt
I'm so sorry for the horrendous wait! Don't feel obligated to reply to this, I know I made you guys wait forever D:
Despite the heaviness that often weighs on Magnus’ soul, despite the discomfort that causes him to rise from half-slumber to find the tide or the border, he is soothed by the presence of families such as their own. All he had wanted was to help create a home where others would feel comfortable to rest their heads, where families would feel safe to rear their children without fear. Knowing that they were doing just that was a balm to his soul, easing his mind. Perhaps he would be able to sleep tonight.
Perhaps he would be able to rest.
Still, he holds thoughts of sleep at bay, his mind sharp and gold-flecked eyes kind as they consider them both. When Weir speaks, he tilts his head, not attempting to hide his confusion and subsequent curiosity that brightens his features. “Fulica americana?” he repeats, doing his best to sound out the words as they fall from his tongue, his mouth hopelessly clumsy around it. “I don’t think that I’ve ever heard of them.”
He drops his gaze for a moment when Eira rushes to Weir and molds into him, the intimacy of it heart warming—and yet he felt intrusive, his cheek turning to give them whatever privacy they might want for the brief encounter. His attention does return though at Eira’s question and his stomach twists painfully at the memory of their last training (his grip on control slipping, vision fading in and out).
“We have definitely been busy with training,” he confirms, rolling a scarred shoulder as if in memory of the brief but solid hits she had landed upon him. “Still, I have not seen her recently.” A frown pulls at the edges of his mouth and he looks to the horizon. “It is unlike her to go this long between bouts.”
out of the blue out into the loneliest place that you'll ever know I carried the world just as far as I could but the damage had taken its toll
It is hard not to love it here, the new Beqanna was gentle, easy. As though the evils of the world had been carefully swept under a rug and trapped there by the weight of it. Weir responded in kind to this new found peace in the world, he would enjoy it while it lasted.
They greet him in kind, a soft kiss against the rust of his cheek. He smiled, flicked his tail and wiggled his ears in response. It was as if just her presence delighted him and the touch of affection was an added bonus that sent his heart skipping. In fact- it did just that. “Good morning dear,” he said happily as the group convened into conversation.
Mostly he listened, he hadn’t taken particular care in involving himself with politics at the turn of the world. The practice of Magic was of interest to him but it also resulted in a sharp pain within. It was pretty awful to be empty, devoid of your very birthright, it had been much too long since he had felt the familiar tug of that which shaped these lands.
He is not surprised when Magnus admits to not having heard of the retreating animal, “Why, a Coot,” he says with a grin. “I find them quite beautiful for an aquatic bird, interesting plumage. However, that is as far as it goes I’m afraid. They’re terribly barbaric you see, to the young. And, well, of course, we all know how I feel about children.” To be truthful he wouldn't mind if that particular bird would find somewhere else to live, maybe he would shoo it away later, but then he might have to explain why he was chasing off birds and-. Well, that could be embarrassing.
“I’m sorry,” he spoke up, half not listening as he pulled himself away from how to best de-coot Tephra. “Someone missing you say?”
She grins as Magnus tries to wrap his tongue around the coot’s latin name. She certainly hadn’t heard of it either, let alone known how to pronounce the name until Weir had pointed out one to her about a month ago. She’s certainly learned a lot from her rather knowledgable partner over the years.
Her smile widens as the conversation turns to Raeg’n’s training, but the expression is short lived. She does not miss the frown that tugs at his lips at the mention of Raeg’n, and curiosity turns to concern when he reveals that he hasn’t seen her in some time. “That doesn’t seem like her …” She trails off, thinking. From what she’s seen the girl is rather dedicated to her cause, whatever it may be (she has yet to reveal it to Eira in any case). As Magnus suggests, it seems rather out of character for the girl to take a break from the training she’d bargained so eagerly for.
Her concern only deepens when Weir adds a decidedly unhelpful piece of input. “Someone missing you say?” Eira’s brown eyes widen as she turns to look at her mate. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, I …” She sucks in a breath before turning back to look at Magnus. “How long exactly has it been since you saw her last?” Guilt is worming its way it. What if she is missing? What if something’s happened to the girl, and she hadn’t even noticed?
Magnus listened with a crooked smile as Weir explained the animal, his gold-flecked gaze going to the horizon as if he could see the animal that they discussed. He could barely imagine having as much data stuffed in his brain as Weir seemed to have; it was difficult enough to sort through what he did know, but to add on even more to that? To know the names of the animals that scurried across the ground? To know them by more than one name? That seemed unthinkable. “One day, I would very much like to listen to you explain all of Tephra’s residents to me, Weir.” He should know who lives here, at the very least.
Still smiling, he considered the red roan. “Do you remember the day we met in the Gates?” His eyes go dark with the memory. “You had come visiting with that one stallion—what was his name?” He paused, frowning before brightening. “Fynnegan!” His crooked smile softened. “It feels like forever ago.”
Perhaps it was.
His attention, however, was stolen by Eira and his expression darkened. “I’m not certain. A few weeks at the very least.” Guilt ate at him. He should have been more vigilant about keeping track of her, but with so many newcomers calling Tephra home, it was no longer easy to know where people were and whether they remained. “I want to look for her, but I don’t have the faintest idea of where to start.” He had no magic to his name and no real information about her origins. She was a big of a mystery to him as the day that she had come to Tephra. Except, now, he knew the sound of her spine when it cracked and the way it looked when it healed. He knew the fire in her that kept her asking for more, kept her pushing herself.
He knew the pain of her absence, the hole she left behind.
out of the blue out into the loneliest place that you'll ever know I carried the world just as far as I could but the damage had taken its toll
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