"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
She often imagines what a boon it would be to have the ability to not only see, but read minds. Of course, those subjected to her scrutiny would likely appreciate it far less than she. However, in instances such as this one, she can only imagine it would be a great help.
It is not often she attempts to withhold judgement. In this case though, she would try. Whether or not she succeeded is an entirely different matter, but for the sake of her grandson, she would certainly try. Still, she cannot seem to assuage all her irritability over the situation. After all, this territory is under her protection. And that she must now have a discussion with her grandson over this particular matter is… exasperating.
Would it really have been so difficult for him to come speak with her regarding his plans?
With a soft, barely audible sigh, she settles into the wood, ignoring the subtle curls mist and muted drone of insects. She reaches almost leisurely for Wolfbane, alerting him to her presence. Perhaps he wouldn’t appreciate her summons. But then, he had to know she would come when he displaced Aten from his seat here. Whether Aten had informed Wolfbane of the recent agreement between Nerine and the Taiga or not is moot, as far as she is concerned. She is a woman of her word, regardless. While she does not believe Wolfbane and Lepis’ motives are destructive, she does know their loyalties lie much more strongly to the South.
And grandson or not, she still has a kingdom to protect. She could only hope Wyrm’s greed had not consumed Wolfbane as he had consumed that shriveled heart.
The life he leads involving Heartfire has always felt like a second life to Wolfbane. It was as if his conscious had come to life and existed, physically, somewhere outside of his reach. She was breathing and going about her life in whatever fashion she chose, using her ability to keep tabs on him. Keep tabs on anyone. And so having Heartfire in your life was like knowing that at any second she could be peering over your shoulder. Watching. Waiting.
Except for once he’d been waiting for her in return.
Yes. Bane had been expecting nothing less than a summons. How could he not? This territory was one under the great eye of Nerine, in fact all lands were under the great eye of Nerine. It was just that this one was subject to her whims and rulers. Maybe he’d just expected repercussions earlier on. But they hadn’t come. When Lepis flicked the rock, that early morning after when Heartfire saved him and allowed his rebirth, even the night following that day when he and his wife had come here and demanded immediate ascension… he’d expected her then.
The roan mare’s absence, to him at least, seemed like lackadaisical approval in a way. What could she lose by him coming here and taking rightful leadership? If she believed in their strengthened ties with one another like Wolfbane did, then nothing could be better for them both.
Her presence touches his mind; a soft contact of magic that leaves him shivering and sends his heart into a mad, thunderous sort of pace. Bane realizes he’s got to explain and he would. He’s not afraid of her - the opposite. He’s glad she’s here.
The reverse image of the woodlands he’s living in fades away. Wolfbane, clad in his usual yellow coat with those distinct blue stripes, lifts his head and flicks his hazel eyes towards Eyas. The eyes in the back of her head see him just fine. She doesn’t turn to look directly at her father, though she nods when he urges her to come along with him on the brief journey North.
Together, the two pegasi weave among the ancient trees without exchanging many words. Eyas blinks and tells him who’s nearby (she’s getting stronger every day, more focused) and Wolfbane smells the impossible variety of everything from the chemical compound of the soil to the exact humidity in the air that makes a thick fog. They come across Heartfire like eerie sentries; one smiling and clearly longing to touch her, the other stoic and sharply regarding her ancestor as a new artist feels humbled in the presence of a master.
Unexpectedly, the sensation of cheerfulness invades the midday gloom. A faint emotion, easily ignored if unwanted. Wolfbane turns to look at the culprit, Eyas, who shrugs her slim shoulders and mutters, “Sorry.”
Bane sighs, “Heartfire, meet Eyas. Eyas meet Heartfire. You don’t mind her being here?” He asks the blue-eyed Queen, focusing on the infinitely lovely rise of her proud cheekbones.
For all the knowledge she holds at her fingertips (or hooftips, as it were), she is regrettably not omnipotent. So while she had been aware of Wolfbane and Lepis’ arrival in her territory, she hadn’t imagined he might try to depose it’s ruler without, at the very least, informing her of his motives. Her disinclination to confront him immediately had been an implication of her trust. The unfortunate thing about her trust though, is that she has a terrible habit of allowing one just enough of it to form their own noose.
While Woflbane had done nothing to overtly prove her trust misplaced, she is left to wonder. And if there is anything Heartfire truly dislikes, it is being left to wonder.
Still, she cares deeply for her grandson, and that has always been her greatest weakness, her caring. Too recently she had been reminded of that fact, the image of Wyrm’s claws shredding Wolfbane’s flesh an eternal reminder that her caring led her to do foolish things. She would like to believe she learns from her mistakes. However, as she watches Wolfbane and young Eyas approach, she knows she is just as fallible as the rest of them.
Cool blue gaze dropping to the small filly, she considers her for a long moment as she peers back with youthful stoicity. She is aware Eyas had inherited her gift, passed silently through generations until it had been re-born in her young descendent. She is naturally curious, of course, her interest in the girl quite unfeigned. Only Rapture had inherited her unique ability prior to the most recent of Wolfbane’s offspring, but regrettably her blue daughter had little interest in utilizing the gift beyond bland parlor tricks.
It takes her a moment to notice the faint trickle of happiness, a subtle influence, increasing her favorability. It stirs memories of an old foe, one who had used fear as a weapon rather than joy. Her features stilling, she brushes aside the subtle emotion, relieved to know she could. That it would not be forced upon her as the fear had when she had been at her most defenseless. She had sworn she would never be so disadvantaged again. Still, as she eyes the child, she cannot find it in her to place blame. So she ignores it.
“Of course not,” she agrees mildly, her bright, perceptive gaze shifting to take in her grandson. “I am pleased to finally have a chance to meet my great grand-daughter.”
She had never been a demonstrative woman, so the brief softness in her features as she glances back at Eyas is much more than she might have given anyone else. Unfortunately it does not last long, the blandness of her expression returning as she gives her attention back to the blue and yellow pegasus. “However, as pleased as I may be, my visit is not a social one.”
Her keen gaze bores into him, one brow tilting faintly upwards. A silent invitation to offer that long overdue explanation.
Pleased. Just what father would’ve wanted.
Eyas doesn’t have to look at her dad to understand that he’s elated by Heartfire’s decision to include her, regardless of what she might’ve wanted for herself. “I did kind of wish to be here…” She thinks, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that no one actually asked her, did they? I mean, even if she wasn’t around she could peek in through dad’s eyes anyways but fuck, that wasn’t the point was it?
“Pleasure’s all mine.” Eyas mimics her father’s tone inside of her head. The quiet space between her ears is a refuge these days. Sort of. Part prison and part escape. Sometimes it gives her solace and understanding, like when she’d gazed through mother’s vision to make sure they were okay when they came here to ‘conduct order’. And then sometimes it took her hostage and forced her to see things she didn’t want to see.
Boiling magma.
The bleeding withers of a mare being taken by force.
Snow and ice and a zig-zagging white hare trying to outrun you.
Eyas loses sleep at night most often, maybe that’s why she seems so unenthused when normally she might be a tad more excited. She tries her best to blink and smile at the same time when Heartfire glances her way in between ‘having words’ with dad. It uh, well it fails. Comes out looking like a strained grimace. “Lepis and I wanted to break away from Loess before the war.” Her father says, catching a sideways look from his daughter. Was that true? Quick as a blink she flicks through mother’s sight like flicking through a rolodex until she finds what she’s looking for. Yea, it was. Wow. Thanks mom and dad.
Her gift was tricky at best. She could see but couldn’t hear, so lately she’d taken to focusing on horses lips when they talked, like she was doing now with her father. Zoning out and trying to familiarize herself with the words she heard all the time. Loess, Yes and No, Taiga.
“Gale’s death only lit a fire underneath that pre-laid kindling.” Bane spoke in a low voice. Eyas snapped out of her reverie and clenched her jaw. “I’m not - Lepis isn’t either - the type to stay idle. I love you, Heartfire,” And the way he says it sounds so honest and raw that Eyas feels thrown off guard, “but I’m not meant to bow under the thumb of another. It’s not in my blood.”
This is the most she’s heard dad talk about Gale’s death and how it personally affected him since her lost triplet had actually died. Eyas is… contemplative about the entire conversation now. She lifts her dark, black eyes to Heartfire’s blue ones and there’s a moment when she wants to speak so badly that it physically hurts her mouth, but Wolfbane says, “You might not agree but I feel that us coming here and doing what we did really might be best for everyone. Aten’s hurt, I know. He’s been-”
Enough.
Eyas interjects.
“-Aten didn’t have much of a choice.” The bucking pegasus girl spits out. Her father turns a look on her that could be spitfire, but she doesn’t care. “He hates us. I hate us. I hate that Gale is dead but no matter how many other responsibilities you and mom pick up in the meantime, it won’t bring him back.”
There. She said it. A rattling gasp blows out of her open mouth and Eyas flattens her ears, shaking from the adrenaline rush of finally pouring out so much of what’s been bottled up inside. “He’s gone, don’t you get it? He’s not here in Taiga and you won’t find him in Tephra. He’s gone. Don’t you think I would’ve seen him if I could?”
TWO TO LOOK, AND ONE TO SEE
Eyas
@[Heartfire] uhhhh I hope this makes sense? It's kind of word vomit near the end there
Wolfbane does not disappoint, taking the dangling tendril she had left for him, launching into an explanation of what had brought him to Taiga. She is familiar enough with all that had happened that following the thread of his thoughts is simple enough. Truthfully though, it is more than a bare explanation she is seeking.
Though she gives Wolfbane her silent attention, she keeps a nearly invisible eye on the young girl standing at her father’s side. Though she tries quite mightily to maintain an evenly pleasant expression, she is young yet, and does not quite succeed. Of anyone else, she could perhaps understand the most about what the girl experienced in her visions. Though Heartfire had never been overly bothered, she knows just how shocking it can be to learn exactly what lies out there. Few realize it, but it is exactly this that had molded Heartfire into the woman she is today. Exactly this that had plaited the mask she so often wears and steeled the walls she keeps so firmly about her emotions.
Should the girl choose to follow in her great grandmother’s footsteps, she would no doubt soon come to learn those same things. The world is neither kind nor good at the very heart of it. Perhaps Heartfire seems cold and callous to some, but she is only the product of what she has learned.
When Wolfbane professes it is not in his blood to bow, Heartfire’s head tilts slightly, but she makes no move to say anything. As he continues, she considers him much more closely, her blue eyes sharp, until Eyas draws her attention by interrupting her father. The youth does not have the same restraint nor discretion as Wolfbane, the heat of her emotions bubbling to the surface as she fires rapid accusations at him.
The cool expression on Heartfire’s features changes slightly as she considers Eyas more openly now, a more discerning note hovering about her. She knows pain and she knows rage. She knows how unwillingly it coils inside as it waits for release. All of that, she can see in young Eyas as she reaches her limit.
Silence falls heavily as she spits her last accusatory question at her father, grief still evident behind the anger in her small features. Perhaps it is Wolfbane’s place to comfort his child, but Heartfire has a feeling it isn’t comfort she seeks.
“The dead aren’t gone,” Heartfire says after what seems an eternal moment of silence. Her eyes are fixed sharply on the girl’s face as she says something that would no doubt draw a hiccup through her tirade. “You just need to find the right pair of eyes.”
She’s not certain the girl would appreciate her advice, but unfortunately she had never been much of one for the softer emotions. Wolfbane could no doubt do more for Eyas’ grief than Heartfire could ever hope to. Still, with Eyas’ accusations ringing in her ears, the blue and white mare turns her gaze back to her grandson. Perhaps Wolfbane had not meant to cause upset or ruffle feathers, but he had. She had always seen the long game so clearly, but it seems Wolfbane still has his sights focused on the short.
“It is possible,” she continues, her words reflecting a much cooler version of Eyas’, “to demonstrate respect without bowing beneath the thumb of another.” She eyes him hard for a moment then. “Do you think, all those years I lingered in Nerine and did not rule her, that I was bending and scraping before each succession of rulers? I think you forget Wolfbane, that true power does not come from a crown.”
The older they get, the more Wolfbane distinguishes similarities in his children and his relatives. Pteron the golden child, Marni and Tiercel the vagabonds (though Tiercel reminds him so much of Longclaw it hurts.) Gale had been Lepis’ boy and Eyas his girl, so special and unique. But now that he’s stuck between them, great-grandmother and great-granddaughter are remote reflections of one another. As blue as Heartfire’s eyes were so were Eyas’ eyes the same striking, resonating void of black. A color so deep and pure it didn’t make sense.
“It comes from choice.” He murmurs steadfastly, peeling his concerned gaze away from his softly trembling daughter and placing it back onto Heartfire.
When he’s near the speckled roan he feels different than he did before. Like he’d never really looked at her and all of a sudden everything about her seems fresh and intriguing. Outwardly others would assume her the plain sort - she did come from old Beqanna stock - but Wolfbane can see the subtle blend of gray into white into black; he can appreciate the high set of her proud cheeks and the off-kilter frown that demands respect when she speaks.
In response, his new heart pounds like a sick, wanton animal in her presence. It unnerves him, but as upset at she might be all he can do is smile tenderly. He can’t urge himself to anger. Not with her. Never with Heartfire.
“I chose to follow Castile. A decision that led me to war and one that cost me my son. And if it takes a million lifetimes to find out who killed him or why Gale died I will.”
Reaching, one of his wings extends to bump against Eyas. The slender filly refuses to respond, though she does pay rapt attention to her ancestor.
“Now I’ve chosen to command Taiga, following under @[Lepis] and her guidance. In fact, it might be best the two of you speak for once.” He suggests. That is, if Heartfire still doubts their presence here is anything but positive. “Eyas?” Her father asks, tilting his head aside to give her more room for conversation.
Somewhat in disbelief that she’s not been shooed away for her outburst, Eyas swallows and glances between the elders briefly. “Could you…” She begins hesitantly, focusing again on Heartfire with a new sort of curiosity. “Could you teach me?”
The snow at her feet is shallow, and Lepis kicks at it with the very tip of her dark forehooves as she makes her way through the forest. It flies out in graceful arcs that she watches with blue-grey eyes. With her shaggy winter’s coat and wings pulled tightly around her body, the small dun mare remains warm despite the season. Her path through the woods is meandering. She has done this often since the autumn, familiarizing herself with the geography of her newest home. She knows enough that she is somewhat surprised by the sound of voices on this particular afternoon, and her dark rimmed ears flick forward as she draws to a halt.
Without the crunch of her hooves to muffle them, the small mare recognizes the voices of her husband and youngest daughter. Eyas sounds emotional, and without a second thought Lepis projects. Sadness, joy, anger, peacefulness. One after the other in rapidfire succession, a wordless reminder to the young noble to better keep her emotions in check in front of others (for she realizes that there is an unknown roan mare beside them as she finds them among the trees).
The lesson is softened by the briefest touch of maternal love, a reminder of her own emotions that comes just as Lepis draws up beside her buckskin daughter and presses a soft touch to the hard silk of her black wings in greeting. To her husband she gives a brief glance, but soon turns to take in the by the words of the blue and white mare and then those of her husband. The roan smells of Nerine and Lepis confirms that when she speaks. This must be Heartfire then, the great-grandmother to her children as well as the Queen of Nerine.
Queen of the Taiga as well, Lepis knows, but the small nod she offers Heartfire in greeting and recognition is not the nod best-fitting of a subservient territory leader to their monarch. Lepis hasn’t ever excelled at bending and scraping, after all, and would far prefer to be the one to whom such actions are directed. Still, she is not disrespectful, and the smile the follows the nod is quite friendly.
“I’d told Eyas I would take her and Gale with me to Nerine to ask your guidance in learning their abilities.” She tells the older mare, shifting into the conversation as though she has been a part from the beginning. The tight rein that she has on her own emotions allows the Comtesse to name her son without a break in her voice, though it does not keep the sadness from her blue-grey eyes. Unsure how much on formality the stranger-queen might stand, Lepis chooses to take responsibility for her daughter’s outburst, knowing that at heart she is the one who had not fulfilled her promise to Eyas after Gale’s death.
“I’d been planning on directing our diplomats to pay your kingdom a visit,” she adds, “but if you’re here for more than a social visit, perhaps I might save them a trip.” Lepis had not arrived in time to hear Heartfire’s earlier declaration that hers was not a social visit. “I’m Lepis,” she adds, knowing an introduction is all but unnecessary but still fond of protocol.
She becomes aware of the dusky gold woman’s arrival long before she reaches them, but she does not pull her attention from the pair before her. No doubt Lepis would join them soon enough, completing the small party.
Wolfbane murmurs a response to her mild rebuke, demonstrating a distinct understanding of the point she had been trying to make. Of course, he knows her well enough by now to understand the patient cunning that fuels her. And while an understanding is not action, it is, at the very least, a step in the right direction.
She is not so foolish as to believe their intentions are so benign as he might wish her to, however. She knows the decision to come to Taiga had not originally been his. And his suggestion that she, at long last, meet Lepis, is met with silent agreement. She is certain it’s well past time for her to meet, in person, the mother of his children. Wolfbane may hold her in familial affection, but Lepis does not.
She idly wonders then, if Wolfbane were truly aware of the ripples his actions had begun. She knows they have plans, but he must also know that the way in which they had bullied their way onto the Taigan throne would draw unwanted attention. He must know too, that her eye would be fixed much more closely onto the situation that it might otherwise have been.
Wolfbane, for all that she keeps track of her family, had been granted a reprieve of scrutiny couched in affection and trust. Now though, that reprieve had ended. And he couldn’t possibly be unaware of that fact.
Or could he?
“If you wish answers,” she finally replies softly after a moment of heavy consideration, “you have only to ask.” It’s true she is rarely free with the information she has, but perhaps he simply needs a reminder that he resides in a rather unique position when it comes to her. She is not heartless, after all.
She stares at him for a long moment, but then Eyas speaks, and her gaze drops to the girl as she peers uncertainly up at her. By this time Lepis had reached them as well, and her words rise to frame Eyas’ almost (though not quite) apologetically. Heartfire, as she lifts her inscrutable gaze to the other woman, cannot imagine her being truly apologetic about anything.
But then, she doesn’t even need to imagine. The woman might be unaware of it, but she had fallen under Heartfire’s scrutiny long ago.
She listens almost idly as Lepis introduces herself, the diplomatic turns of phrase falling off her tongue with practiced ease. Heartfire has never been one to stand on protocol though, and feels no great need to return any meaningless pleasantries. Instead she tilts her head slightly, lips easing into a brief, rare uptilt as she returns her gaze to Eyas. “Of course.” She pauses a moment before adding, “Come to Nerine, when you’re ready.”
As she returns her gaze to Lepis, her features once more smooth into the cooly pleasant expression so often worn by the Northern queen. Those that know her well would recognize it. Indeed, those that know her well are often the only ones who have ever seen any other expression cross her features.
“You are correct, my visit today is not social,” she agrees mildly, the unsettling blue of her gaze fixed on the navy and gold mare. She stands in stark contrast, plainly colored with an unexceptional appearance. Of course, such appearances could be boldly deceptive. “I was just discussing with Wolfbane your… ascension.” The heavy pause quite plainly speaks to her knowledge of the events that had occurred prior to and after the ascension in question. And demonstrates just as clearly that she is not entirely approving.
While she had elected to give Wolfbane the benefit of the doubt, Lepis is much more a stranger to her. And she is curious what the woman might choose now to infer.
Maybe it’s generations worth of mistrust that made Wolfbane distrust Heartfire at first. Even now the sharpness of her first visit years ago hasn’t dimmed in his mind; Bane can look back on it and smile, knowing what would happen after. So when she tells him all he needed to do was ask for answers, a moment before Lepis arrives and his daughter Eyas scrunches her face in a mixture of pain and pleasure, Wolfbane regards Heartfire and allows a moment to pass between them.
His eyes lock into hers and he tells her silently with a look, we’ll talk later. He thinks it’s dangerous to simply watch what happened to Gale, or to filter through the visions of everyone else watching Gale that day. The truth might be caught in a crack somewhere in between.
Then his eyes flick to Lepis and the confusion swirls to a stop, his myriad well of never ending questions dries up, and Wolfbane relaxes the tension around his eyes and mouth. The comtesse (his wife) is smoothing over a bumpy start, poised and practiced as ever. Not for the first time, Bane’s glad she’s come.
Eyas, however, had seen and felt enough. As soon as Heartfire answers her she rips away from her parents, expression clouded in the storm of emotions she’s fighting (and failing) to resist. When she stomps away there’s a broad, warm smile across her lips.
The three of them are left alone to discuss his wife’s… ascension.
Lepis prides herself on her preparation for any situation. How much of that is innate self-confidence and how much is summoned and projected is something she has never considered. She is not especially interested in useless introspection, after all. She’d come into this unexpected gathering anticipating something far different than the chill greeting that follows. A shiver that is not entirely from a mountain gust ripples down one hind leg, and Lepis grinds that hoof into the pine needles. It could have been a stretching of her tendon.
Prepared, she reminds herself. She knows what she is doing.
The roan mare’s eyes are not unsettling for their eerie shade, but rather for their stark resemblance to another cerulean pair. Lepis had almost let herself forget. Yet there they are: Gale’s eyes looking out at her with a veil of politeness that her son had not lived long enough to master. Lepis blinks, and while Wolfbane might feel the infinitesimal tightening off her muscles, there is no sign of a reaction. She simply remains smiling, the expression far warmer and seemingly genuine than Heartfire’s cool mask.
Lepis had taken responsibility for her daughter’s behavior, but as Heartfire likely knows, she had not offered an apology. She’d phrased her words so that one might be implied (she is her mother’s well-trained daughter, after all) but she had fallen short of requesting forgiveness. Apologizing is too much like willingly taking on a debt – it is a shackle Lepis has no interest in.
Heartfire speaks, and the meaning behind her heavy pause does not go unnoticed. Lepis quirks her cobwebbed brow in curiosity, but does not respond. They’d been discussing, Heartfire says...and then says no more. Is she waiting for Lepis to not-quite apologize for that as well? Or to offer an explanation, Lepis wonders? Perhaps she waits for something else entirely.
Whatever it is Heartfire waits for, Lepis joins her.
She is the self-styled Comtesse of Taiga, after all, not some nursling foal that has been caught staying out after dark. If the all-seeing Heartfire wants to insinuate that her wandering eyes have found Lepis – and found her wanting – she’ll need to say it herself. Lepis has no interest in dragging it out of the roan mare. She is already well aware that Aten is not fond of the takeover. But nearly a year has passed and no ill has befallen Taiga. They have been dragged into no wars, and their population has grown higher without being crowded.
Her leadership has been uneventful and though off to a slow start, she is quite pleased with herself.
She usually is, after all.
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