"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
It had been a while since she'd last seen the stallion that had first intercepted her in the Field. Nearly blind and stumbling her way through in a dazed stupor, he had found her, awoken her, and exposed her to some of Beqanna's secrets. The last day she remembers him was here in Ischia, gathering the island inhabitants and collecting their votes easily to replace Krone as the ruler, all the while she watched discreetly through the foliage. And with the passing of the crown that day, Ischia had begun the evolution into the Brotherhood her own home had become so strongly allied with.
Really, a visit with him had long been overdue. Not only for kingdom matters, but a personal visit as well Many were well aware that Brennen had been in Beqanna for a significant amount of time, and she had come to know in that very first trip to Ischia with him that he had dealt with a fair share of hardships; one of the downsides of eternal life, she supposed. But now, she also understood that his more recent past had been littered with some turbulent upheavals, and she wondered about his well being.
The journey across the land bridge had proven leisurely and uneventful, crossing its length with little more disturbance than the raucous cries of seabirds overhead. He was easy enough to find in the welcomed warmth that was so uniquely Ischia, especially in contrast to the bitter cold of Beqanna's latest winter. When dark eyes trace his familiar winged form, she smiles almost shyly, but the happiness it holds is obvious as it steadily grows in grandeur.
"Brennen!" she calls eagerly, unable to rein in her excitement any longer. It crosses her mind, that maybe she should have a considerably more diplomatic greeting between the King of Ischia and Queen of Nerine. But the thought is quickly fleeting and cast away with the slightest shrug of her pale shoulder; too late now. Stopping just shy of him, her nose stretches out to brush along his shoulder in friendly greeting, breathing in the scent of familiarity and unfamiliarity alike. Pulling back, her head tilts mildly with softly knit brows, though her smile fades to something slightly more mischievious, "Something's different about you."
hold me in this wild, wild world 'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
She’s lucky to have come when she has – he has finally emerged from the dark, from his hiding in the night and the cove with his family. A hermit, for all intents and purposes, while he figured his shit out. Now the daytime has become familiar again, the warmth of the sun on his upturned face while he stands quietly. Of course he has not abandoned his nighttime wanderings, for he is ever an insomniac, but his people have seen him out and about again.
His eyes are closed, but he can still feel the approach of another across the narrow strip of real estate that is land sometimes and water the rest; it takes a moment with the new senses to place an identity. But he does, eventually, and the spotted figure swims in his mind’s eye before he opens his eyes and follows the rest of her approach, a quiet half—smile on his face to welcome her. The bay doesn’t move to meet her in the middle, but not out of some weird sense of superiority but merely because he’s truly comfortable in this exact moment, and relaxed, the sun warming his slightly outstretched wings and his dark pelt as the sea-salt breeze blows gently in his direction. In this moment, he’s managed to pretend to be healed from the most recent scars left on his heart, and moving would break the spell.
Brennen does straighten, and reach out to return the friendly touch of greeting, breathing in the familiar scent of their sister-kingdom the spotted mare’s coat even as he murmurs her name, less exuberant but with no less affection. An ear flick catches the playful ‘something’s different’ and a little smile flickers at the edge of his mouth, as close to ‘mischievious’ as Brennen is likely to get, and he reaches for the water. This has become as easy as breathing – easier, perhaps. As easy for Brennen as flying, the thing that feels most natural. Perhaps it’s the abundance of available water around Ischia for practicing, or perhaps simply because it’s his element and the closest to his beloved ice and snow of his Tundra, but the waters of Ischia dance to his call.
Tendrils bubble up from behind them and wind around her feet, her torso, liquid streamers shimmering the sunlight before cascading down to form a new pool between them, reflecting bay and white bodies above in a puddle that barely even quivers despite being magically moving a moment ago. “Different? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he deadpans, but the laughter is in his eyes. He chooses to forget for now that there is other, less pleasant differences in his life. “But there is something different about you, too. Are you going to share?” He can feel something, but without prying into her mind (and he would not think to do such a thing), he isn’t sure what it is.
hold me in this wild, wild world and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
the truth that you'll find will always be the truth you hide
It’s like the first day Brennen had shown her his favorite parts of Ischia again, when she had witnessed his manipulation of the frozen elements sparkling around her, and when he’d hardened the pool at the waterfall with so much as a simple smile on his face. And she watches again, as that same smile of faux innocence begins to blossom anew. Raising her pale brow in an inquisitive nature, she wonders briefly what he means to do now, until she feels a cool slithering around her legs moving skyward to consume her. Dropping her gaze, she regards the phenomenon with amused captivation, following the liquid ribbon’s path until it pools into a mirror at their hooves. It’s reflective surface reminds her so much of Hyaline’s dazzling lake, so much so that she can practically smell it’s distinct mountainous realm.
Brown eyes flash brightly when her gaze finally rises to Ischia’s king, smiling in brilliant appreciation. “You’re entirely too modest, sir,” she chides playfully, while narrowing the widened stance she’d presumed while watching his talents unfold, unable to entirely shake the feeling that he’d only just grazed the tip of the metaphorical iceberg. She’d learned from Scorch that he’d risen to be the victor of Beqanna’s latest Alliance, and she had come to understand that the reward for such a title held a hefty merit.
The awestruck smile fades in grandeur when he reciprocates with his own question and she internally wondered exactly how much time he had to spare in order for her to answer such a weighted inquiry sufficiently. Deciding on keeping it on the side favoring quick simplicity, she narrows her relatively short lived Beqannian past into a single exhaled breath.
“I can move things with my mind, have the ability send and receive emotional memories and I can’t seem to entirely control it yet, Wishbone left Beqanna and left me to rule Nerine, and I’m tragically, hopelessly in love.” That last part she hadn’t entirely meant to admit out loud, but nonetheless she couldn’t seem to stop its flow breaking through the dam of her lips.
Smiling again, she shrugs her shoulder lightly as if to say that in light of most things happening throughout Beqanna, it probably wasn’t the worst—at least her problems were manageable. For now.
Dampening her expression to something more stoic, she loosens her hold on the mischievious rapport they were so easy to strike up again, but not willing to let go of it entirely just yet. Sighing deeply, she centers her grounding, tilting her head enough so that she could better read his expression, “In all sincerity, I came to see how you were doing, Brennen. It’s been awhile.”
your world is still lacking of me, how do you love?
He keeps his eyes attentive on her face as he awaits a response, genuinely curious for her answer. It’s not often that he forms a true, fast friendship like he had with Breckin outside of his family; he’s generally more suspicious of strangers and while cordial, takes quite a while to warm up to the friendship stage. It had been different, with the spotted woman, and he’d found himself with a firm friend from the very beginning. It’s a good thing he’s paying attention to her, because when she does respond it’s with a rush of words that flows over him like a tidal wave, though he is careful not to let it show as he carefully picks apart the sentence and chooses to respond to it in pieces, rather than a whole.
“Control will come in time, and practice,” he offers first, quietly reassuring. “I was only born with my wings, you know; I’ve had to learn and re-learn everything else over the years, and I promise it gets easier.” In theory, anyway, and it had been easier for everything until the magic. The magic had been incredibly hard to learn, but even that the control came in time. “As to the second, congratulations. I am sad to see Wishbone go, I was certainly of a favorable mind about the brief time I knew her, but, well,” he pauses, gives her another little smile. “I may be biased, but I think you’ll shine even brighter.” The last bit, the last bit gives him pause, and his eyes go a little distant. The bay stallion has been in love more than a few times, with varying degrees of intensity and lengths of duration, and it’s always been an adventure. “I don’t think love is tragic,” he says quietly. “Frustrating sometimes, and confusing, and exhilarating, but not tragic. By its very nature, it’s a joyous thing all wrapped up in other emotions, and it at its heart can’t be tragic It always has a silver lining.”
After a moment, she gently turns the question back onto him and he considers it, the recent past has been quite overcast with only moments of bright, shining light. “It hasn’t been the best year or two,” he admits, and waits for the wave of grief to overwhelm him, but it simply laps gently at the edges of his mind and he wonders if the storm has finally run its course. “We lost my daughters, just children, and that was impossibly hard. It’s different, to lose them violently than when I’ve lost people to old age, and it hit me – us, Galilee and I – hard. And on top of those emotions, I had all this extra power to deal with, and absolutely no control over it, and the threat of war with Sylva looming. But the pain faded,” he gives a very bittersweet little half-smile, “And the control just took time. And the future is looking bright again.”
His mention of Wishbone causes the lines of her face to reform into a shallow frown. The mahogany mare's sudden departure from Beqanna had been a difficult blow for Breckin to recover from, a memory that she recalls often. She'd understood what drove the woman away, understood it completely, but still, the leopard woman felt as though Wishbone could have done promising things for Nerine and it pained her to consider what the possibilities for the Leviathans could have been. But she doesn't allow herself to dwindle on such thoughts for long; it wouldn't change the fact that she now carried the mantle of Nerine's leadership and the responsibilities that saturated it. The future of the Amazon's legacy now rested with her and those that called the northernmost shores home now--she'd be damned if she didn't do her best. And Brennen's faith in her only serves to further bolster her burgeoning confidence.
The wisdom he imparts on her is absorbed readily, hardly blinking or allowing her fluid attention to stray from the Ischian King's willing knowledge. Love being confusing was an understatement, she thought. Having just come into the understanding of it (was it even possible to really understand it?) in recent memory, there had been multiple times when she'd caught herself thinking she had a firm grip on her own emotions, only to be severely wrong in the aftermath. But perhaps tragic was not a good descriptive word of love after all; she could think of multiple others that could fit the bill just as easily. Namely "distracting" and "beautiful."
After he replies to her question, she falls to a brief silence, turning her gaze toward's Ischia's surrounding sea momentarily before her dark eyes refocus on her companion. "That sounds like an incredibly trying time, Brennen, and my heart aches for you and your family over the loss of your daughters. This empathic ability of mine seems to be able to pick up on deeply emotional memories residually left upon their surroundings. I'm sure you're more than capable of handling it yourself, but as your friend, I'd love nothing more than to offer my assistance should you require it." With that she offers a small smile, weighted down by the pull of sorrow. "And I'm glad to hear the passing of time is easing some of the pain."
A sigh escapes her, and the smile is dropped in favor of a hard line drawn upon her ebony lips. "While we're on the subject of criminals, Brennen, there's something else I should tell you. I'm sure you're aware that Klaudius was captured through a contract with Loess, and he was held within Nerine's cave systems. I sought to question him, trying to better understand what the best course of action would be, and I searched his memories. He raped Amarantha, a previous Leviathan, and his sister Krone as well. He demonstrated no remorse whatsoever, and in turn, threatened to make me one of his victims. When I made to leave, somehow his containment weakened, and he escaped, but not before attacking me." As if to rekindle the memory anew, the healing wound along her crest began to throb dully and the thought causes her to wince inadvertently. "Regrettably, he was too far gone into the blizzard-ridden sky before I could attempt to apprehend him."
