"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
sometimes we want what we want -- -- even if we know it’s going to kill us.
How strange to be back in lands that are so familiar and yet so very different. The meadow is much the same, and yet she knows that it had come and gone from Beqanna in the reckoning (something she would proudly claim some responsibility). Why Beqanna had made her into something more was a mystery except that Straia imagined she provided some sort of a balance. Many of the dead had returned, but a few stick out in her mind more clearly. As she can feel the land, she can feel them, can sense their otherness and she can sense her own.
In some way Straia feels as alien to herself as the lands of Beqanna are to her now. Only a few things remain unchanged, such as the beating of a heart beneath her feet. Once it was only the heart of the Chamber - Atrox’s heart - that she heard. Now it was the heart of Beqanna, tied to her own, feeding her some second life. There was a cost to the power, she knew, but she had always been willing to pay the price for power.
First her father, then her sister, and then many innocent lives including her daughter’s (not that Weaver wouldn’t have just come back, but still, Straia would gamble with her own children). Eventually she lost the crown as well, though that was something she had never planned to keep. A crown was a thing to have only for so long and then a thing to move on from. Her ambitions for the Chamber had been fulfilled, and so, she had left it in different hands without fuss.
But once you taste that power, once you taste a crown, the desire never truly goes away.
Without the Chamber, Straia finds herself in the meadow, figuring it to be as good a place to start as any. The day is icy, a bitter wind clawing at her long mane and tail. Her hair has always been wild, tangled and long down the side of her neck, though she is strikingly beautiful in her wildness. It is the type of wild beauty that is cultivated and purposeful, two seemingly at odd notions and yet not, when you think about it. Nature was a wild thing and yet beautifully cultivated, was it not?
Beqanna has not yet asked her to pay whatever price it would extract, and so Straia revels in simply being alive again. A raven perches on her shoulder, beady eyes watching the horses around. Straia knows them all in some fundamental way, but she does not know them. They are strangers, as she would expect, who likely do not know her either. They would though, she has no doubt. Oh, they would.
There was no time like the present to meet a few of them.
11-04-2019, 08:13 PM (This post was last modified: 11-04-2019, 08:15 PM by Aquaria.)
She was uncertain, uneven, on ground she'd never expected. Maybe that was foolish, to not anticipate the simplest of life's complications. But she had not been raised to think like lady of intrigue and romance. Her life was one centered on ease and clear paths. A black and white life. And she had always felt that she stood on the light side.
But what if that weren't true? What many shades of grey stood between herself and the right? The wind was cold here, her scales slid against each other in an almost inaudible whisper as she shivered. Frost rhimed the tough membrane of her mane and tail, making the skin sting with the bite of it. Why was she still here, when she had no reason to be? She should be home. Where the sun was still warm. This icy weather was awful to one not built for it, and the sea mare was most definitely not built but it.
So she would go. Back home, to deal with her tumultuous mind and settle back into the rhythm her life had taken on. The pale mare had turned homeward, ready to drive off into the whirling snow. Only to hesitate, pause. And stop. She was not alone now. Had she ever been? It was only now though that she absorbed the figure standing a little ways off, still in the breeze. A huge black bird perched on the stranger's back, and Aquaria could see even from this distance the claws with which it gripped.
"Hello?" She called out in her salt rough tone, taking a few steps nearer the figure. It was a mare, she saw, painted with bold strokes of white and red. Like blood split on the fresh snow. The pearl girl shook her head. Now where had such a morbid thought sprung from? "Hello. I'm Aquaria. Are you alright?" She asked violet eyes wide in the overcast light. It seemed strange to be standing in an open field, as still as stone. Especially when it was cold enough for their breath to make little insubstantial ghosts with every exhale.
sometimes we want what we want -- -- even if we know it’s going to kill us.
She does not consider herself on the side of light. If the world is truly black and white, then she is black through and through to the very core. Yet, the world is not so very black and white at all, but so many shades of gray. Some are darker, some lighter, but they all mix and blend and meld until you lose the lines between them. She is not good, but is it so very bad to want power, to crave not necessarily destruction but simply whatever it takes to achieve the goals that she sets before herself?
There are plenty who would say, without hesitation, that of course such things are bad. The ends do not justify the means. Maybe they are right. Or maybe they are simply too afraid to do what it takes to turn their dreams into reality. The latter seems more likely, that those who judge the rest of them evil do so because they do not have the stomach to be more.
Hello? calls a voice. The raven turns his eyes first, and then Straia, as if the bird was scouting for her before she could be bothered. A mare has appeared, looking entirely unequipped to exist in the winter. Though clearly equine, the other mare appears to be part fish, fins sprouting where her mane and tail should be. Strange. Though there seemed to be an ever growing number of strange things in Beqanna. How different than when she lived.
“Fine,” she says, voice nonchalant, as if the weather wasn’t a raging winter storm around her. Then again, she found that the weather didn’t bother her. The snow instead seemed to part around her, and though she was cool she was not cold. Straia was still not entirely sure what she was capable of now, but she could taste the world on her tongue and it was tantalizing. “Alive,” she adds, a hint of her old Cheshire grin appearing on her face.
“Straia,” she offers, nodding her head slightly. If she were human, she’d extend a manicured hand, fingers painted red, and you’d have to wonder for a moment if you were supposed to shake it or kiss it. As it is, she can only nod, and yet the gesture feels the same. “I suppose you must be cold,” she says, extending the strange protection to cover the other mare as well. It is not heat, but merely a barrier, leaving the elements tangible and yet bearable. “Better, I hope?”
She pauses for a moment, waiting for the mare to accept the offer to decline to stay. Well, there was a third option to step out of the protective bubble and then stick around, but that seemed like a fools option and Straia hoped this mare was not a fool. “I admit, it’s been quite some time since I’ve been in Beqanna. What can you tell me of her now?”
Aten loved Taiga... the family he protected, the residents he'd grown to love as friends if not an extended family, the kingdom he'd called home for years...
But even a calm-tempered stallion couldn't resist the call to journey outside his territory once in a while. It had only been a short time since Lethia returned with little Orion in tow, and Aten had already grown to care for the little filly like his own. Popinjay, Owin, and Kalil had also taken to her, engaging in games and adventures with the filly to help her come out of her shell.
She still seemed a bit untrusting of the marbled cat that often accompanied Kalil, but at least she didn't seem so in shock by the sight of the feline riding on Kalil's back anymore. The sight was still quite funny, at least to Aten, since he knew Kalil found it extremely normal while Orion was just puzzled. The looks she would sometimes give Kalil behind his back, staring at the feline, always left Aten in a good mood.
Something he would've carried with him outside Taiga on this latest adventure, but not this time. His instincts were stirring... he didn't like it, not in this way. He'd calmly explained to Lethia and the foals that he was taking a short trip to the common lands in search of horses who were on their own looking for a new place to call home, something Taiga could offer. But, in reality, he was out looking for something...
Or perhaps... someone...
Aten couldn't explain it, for he didn't have the ties to Beqanna that some other horses out there had, even with his own gifts. But his instincts, his senses... they were trained, sensitive. He could just feel something stirring in the air, something... unnatural. Almost frightening, even, for this sinister sensation chilled the stallion's blood like ice.
He departed Taiga's land a few mornings following the end of, unknown to him, the quest a horse had begun in the mountains for a purpose Aten didn't think was possible. He bid goodbye to his family, instructing Amica in private to watch over the foals and Lethia. Even though they spoke no common language, Aten sincerely hoped the feline's senses, her instincts, helped her to understand. He almost considered asking Turul to inform the feline of his request, but the raptor spoke no common language of the feline either.
It was all up to instincts in this case. Something Aten knew the feline possessed, he just hoped it was in the right sense.
Galloping as fast as he could in the direction of the common lands, the raptor took to the skies and watched from above as the stallion raced on below. The duo kept in close range as they traveled over plains and forests and through a river toward their destination. When they got close to the river, Aten asked Turul to travel off on his own and see what he could spot from above, while Aten did searching of his own.
The sinister feeling was all around the commons, this east side of the land, and Aten's instincts were telling him that he needed to leave before something bad happened. But he couldn't... he had to know. He had to know what was going on, why his gut stirred in this odd fashion when he allowed his senses to listen and hear Beqanna's call.
The River, Plains, and Field yielded no result, at least when Aten himself went there. Some locations, he didn't know how close he had come, if only he'd shown up a bit sooner. But perhaps the Meadow would yield something?
Despite his fatigue, Aten loped over the grass, pushing his body past it's capacity. He'd galloped here from Taiga, and had traveled fast between the three community lands in a short span of time, but the fire inside him still burned. And now just that of the dragon's fire that flowed through his veins and made it possible for him to change how he looked... the spirit of the fighter, the stallion, the bachelor, the once-leader who so wished to again take over the Forest kingdom and keep his promise to the one he still called a friend.
A bird's cry echoed above the stallion, and Aten's eyes went up, spotting Turul circle back before diving and coming to glide in the air next to the stallion. He shared a glance with the raptor, not even needing words to know he'd found something. Picking up speed to a gallop, Aten followed his friend toward the Meadow, seeing the small objects dotting the landscape that he recognized as other horses.
There weren't as many though, he felt, and that unnerved the stallion.
Turul led the way through the Meadow's main ground, weaving above the few horses scattered among the landscape. When Aten was just about to ask what his friend was leading him towards, the falcon let out another cry and dove down again. This time, he circled around and continued to hover above something in the distance, spurring Aten to race on and investigate.
Two horses stood out among the Meadow's barren landscape, the light layer of snow still on the ground helping to make spotting them easier. Aten began to slow as he neared them, the uneasiness in his gut burning like fire. One of those horses... the one with a black object on it's back...
Turul told Aten that the black object sitting on the horse's back was a raven... nasty little bird, according to the larger raptor. Aten withheld a chuckle, too focused on the matter at hoof. The one with the raven had a spotted coat, and the other sported gray coloring, but strangely, not that many shades different from Aten's own.
The stallion did not come up on the two mares in time to hear a majority of their conversation, but he did hear the spotted one ask about what Beqanna was like now.
Aten could almost not stop his snarkiness from coming out, but managed to do so just enough that he sounded civil and not in a joking mood. He looked at the spotted mare, but did not make eye contact.
"I'm clearly crazy enough to say a whole lot different now. Something is stirring in the air, is it not? And dare I say you know what it may be? I may not know every horse in Beqanna, but you are certainly a new face," he inquired, the stallion's nostrils flared and chest heaving as he caught his breath while Turul circled down and landed on his back.
11-07-2019, 08:15 PM (This post was last modified: 11-07-2019, 08:16 PM by lilliana.)
Beqanna should be sleeping.
This is the height of winter, the deepest part of it, the oldest part of the year before the new one is reborn. Beqanna should be sleeping. And yet.. she is not. This is the time of year when shadows are cast longest upon their world and so many things fall away. So many things rest and wait. This should be the hush of winter, the waiting lull before the rest of the world wakes again.
But it seems Beqanna will not rest.
There is no waiting. Everything moves impatiently forward.
Lilliana had followed the River again (always the River with her) but there is no laughter from it this day. There is no steady hum of water to distract her today. What thoughts she has are louder than the sound of running water, louder than the roar of any waterfall. She thinks of Elaina who is no longer in Hyaline. She thinks of warnings from the stars. She thinks about all those shades of gray and all those lines that tend to blur together in the tapestry of life.
The wind stings here, full of that bitter coldness that winter seems to love. The chestnut mare shivers against it and Lilliana arches her neck, trying to draw warmth in on herself. Had she been in Taiga, those imposing trees might have offered her shelter from such a frigid bite. There might be something more in the air, but whatever it is, the chestnut blames it solely on the season she has always detested.
A bird's cry is able to do what the winter chill cannot.
An ear flicks and Lilliana's clouded expression clears to recognition. It's a cry she has heard before. Briefly, she stops and turns her head towards the direction that the sound had come from.
The copper mare looks for Aten and instead finds two mare standing against the winter Meadow - a painted bay mare that Lilli doesn't recognize and... Aquaria? It is the presence of the Ischian diplomat that draws her attention (and concern) as she moves forward to the nereid mare and her companion. There is uncertainty that draws a line across Lilliana's face as she surreptitiously studied the raven that adorned Straia's back.
And then there is Aten, Taiga's champion charging in like a knight of old. Where Lilliana had moved forward with a swinging stride, Aten had come galloping in at the same time she reached the pair of mares. Like him, the chestnut mare had only caught the end of the conversation - of the painted mare asking of Beqanna.
Lilliana drew herself near Aquaria as she gave a worried glance at the frost that edged her delicate fins and tail. (What was she doing out here in winter, so far from her tropical home?) Worried enough that she doesn't notice the frozen breathe that no longer dances from her dark nostrils. There is a fleeting message in the glance - in the way she stands - that her fellow diplomat could stand near her for warmth if she needed it.
Lilliana dips her head in a slight greeting to her fellow Taigan as Turul settles on his back and listens quietly, contemplatively, as he speaks before turning her attention back to the others.
The chestnut raises her blue eyes to Straia's and holds off momentarily on an introduction, "When were you last in Beqanna?"
11-07-2019, 10:10 PM (This post was last modified: 11-08-2019, 07:05 PM by Straia.)
The icy wind incites a riot in her and she cannot stay in Taiga. Poppy runs wild, criss-crossing the meadow until her breath comes in great, cloudy, draughts and the snow underfoot has been churned to a sort of murky grey. She is a fuzzy, feral thing, the loose curls of her mane snaking into the air with each gust, her tail twisting, her body twisting, too, with every ecstatic buck. Something is in the air, a sound she can feel but not hear, a smell she can taste, there is tension in the worried, hushed, whispers that dart between the horses gathered in the common lands. Strange beasts and new Queens rise in Pangea, and something else. Something else, rushing out from the the beach with a boom and a sigh, rushing from a place where so many horses go, and from where they should certainly not be returning. Confusion, excitement, worry and joy, all blend together into a strange elixir and the young bay - already half-drunk on her own adventures - is especially drawn to the strangeness of it all.
To the electricity of it.
She would continue in this pattern until she is too tired even to walk back home but for a familiar scent that reaches her and gives her pause. Not scent, scents. A voice crashing through the air. The two year old slows and stops, cranes her head up to seek out the familiar shape of Turul in the sky, but she does not see him. Aten is on the wind, and Lilliana, and Aquaria. So many and so close, as if they are having a secret meeting in the meadow. Hm. Well. If they're all invited, she must be, too.
The thought makes her grin, even she knows that this is not how secrets work.
She pulls off her course, picking up a swift trot until she finds the place where they gather, coming together around a bay and white mare. The young mare's head tilts to one side, small ears straining forward to hear their voices. The painted mare grins and it, too, is full of secrets, full of trickery. There is a great black bird on her shoulder. Poppy likes her immediately.
Ravens. There are ravens in her forest and she knows Turul and his kind dislike them Like the crows, they will mob and bully in groups. She wonders if Turul's opinion colors Aten's voice with that serious tone, or if it something else that troubles him. Popinjay is not troubled. She presses forward, thrusting herself well into the group with a madcap grin, nodding once to Turul as though he is the only one that matters, and then, drawing nearer to the strange mare than may be wise, she greets the raven.
"I am sorry, I didn't know you'd be here or I'd have brought you something shiny for your nest."
She is the first to approach, and hear the strange lady speak in her subtle way. She was not one to elaborate, it seemed, not one to betray anything that hid behind her regal face. The sea mare was reminded irresistibly of Lepis.
The blue dun mare was similarly reserved, and Aquaria suspected, similarly calculating. This was her initial impression of the women, but she had no chance to react beyond a sigh of relief when the cold wind suddenly ceased and they were joined by others. It was peculiar. She could see the skeletal tree branches still swaying at the edge of the clearing. But here by Straia, all was still. "Thank you, it is." the pale girl smiled gratefully, noting the others who drew near to the pool of still air.
The first, the stallion, she did not recognize. He was accompanied by a different kind of bird entirely, and she had to wonder at the significance. The two mares who followed, however, she did recognize, and remembered that she stood so near to their home. There were many friends to be had in Taiga. Lilliana in particular she was pleased to see. She had not spoken to the bright chestnut woman much on their first encounter, but what impressions she had been given were all good.
The good impressions seemed to be founded as she interpreted Lilliana's unspoken invitation, and accepted it thankfully. She was rather literally a fish out of water, and the warmth radiating from her friend was a welcome gift, and pressed her side lightly against Lilliana's. It was reassuring contact, to say the least.
Her smile turned uncertain though when young Popinjay surged forward, as irascible as the nereid remembered her being. And of course it would be the sleek feathered bird who held her attention, more than the mysterious mare it perched on. Hopefully the youthful mare would not be found offensive to the bird's companion.
They could be a mismatched little herd out here, weathering the elements with their close proximity. But the stallion seems more suspicious, and Lilliana is as kind as ever in her thoughtful response. Aquaria couldn't think of what she could say that might appease the painted woman.
What did the fin mare know of the world? Very little, it seemed. She knew it was vast and held an endless array of creatures, and that no two horses she had met in her travels had seemed alike. This little group seemed shockingly absent of the diversity she had grown accustomed to. Looking closer at the assembled, she realized with a little start that she herself was the most openly outlandish individual here. Was that a good thing or not?
She blinked up at the statuesque lady, knowing that she ought to say something, that being silent might be the worst thing she could do at the moment. So she grasped at her limited knowledge of the world, and tried to put together something relevant. "I don't really know much." She began with honesty. It seemed a good place to start. "I live far west of here, on an herd-island. The world at large tends to leave us alone there for the most part. But the king who overrules my island said not to long ago that changes are coming. Ones that may drive us to the safety of his inland kingdom. I hope he's wrong." She finished, knowing whatever she'd saidlikely wasn't what Straia was looking for. But it as all she had to offer. For the first time, she felt a thread of doubt in the merits of living such a sheltered life. Times were changing, and she was only aware because she had stepped into the current and felt it tug.
11-08-2019, 08:03 PM (This post was last modified: 11-08-2019, 08:03 PM by Straia.)
sometimes we want what we want -- -- even if we know it’s going to kill us.
There is one, and then there is four. It feels far more correct that they should be flocking to her, of course, though she finds herself mildly annoyed all the same. It was far easier to have a conversation with one, to learn what she needed from someone will all their attention on her. Now she had to deal with a swarm of them, though, she’d have been rather offended if they hadn’t swarmed. It’s not lost on her though that they shouldn’t know. There is no reason to know she is particularly interesting (her and a few others), or at least no more so than all the rest of the dead who had suddenly reappeared in Beqanna. The gates were blown wide open, and though she may have been the first, she may have broken the bubble, there were plenty of dead to be fascinated about.
Did her newfound power attract them, call to them somehow as the faeries and Beqanna herself could call to others. It would make sense, because she knows she is tied to the land in some new way now, though she doesn’t entirely understand it. Magic doesn’t come with a handbook. The faeries rarely, if ever, helpfully come down to explain “hey, you have been made into a magical entity, and as it turns out that’s kind of like being a genie without the lamp.” No one has given her the rules or directions (not that it would matter, she would find a way to ignore them where they did not suit her taste). All she knows is she is more than she was, and that is saying something from a magician who lived in a time of almost none.
The first to approach doesn’t meet her eyes, and she almost laughs at him. How skittish and scared. He speaks, some ramble of unhelpful information and questions and she just stares at him for a beat, her raven keeping tabs on the falcon that looms nearby. She is vaguely tempted to turn that falcon into something else, something lesser, though she refrains for now at least. “I know more than you,” she says simply, voice cool and collected, never betraying the fact that so far she just finds him annoying. “But I must correct you, I am an old face, not new. You are new.”
She doesn’t answer his question, not yet sure he deserves an answer. Well, to be fair, if he’s halfway clever she’s given him a particularly useful clue, which is almost kind of her. The next one to speak - a chestnut mare - is far more useful and less annoying. Straia’s gaze falls to her with a slight smile as she replies. “A few years before the lands changed, before magic was wiped clean from Beqanna and everything started anew. The Chamber was my home, a name you may not even know now.” It still hurt (would always hurt), the loss of the Chamber. She felt Beqanna’s heart now, the steady pulse of it, and this at least was a comfort, but still it was not the same as the Chamber’s heart (Atrox’s heart, buried in the dirt for reasons she never much cared about).
The last one to join, a filly, leaves Straia with a wider grin on her face. The child is an electric, feral thing that reminds Straia somewhat of herself at that age. She is the sort of child Straia would love to mold, would love to turn into a weapon not for her to wield but to simply be. She is the sort of child that could become so much, but Straia has never used children. Few things give her pause, but children should be left to make their own choices. Of course, if they came to her…that was different.
The girl doesn’t greet Straia at all but the bird on her back, which suits Straia just fine. The raven preens, ruffling his feathers as if he understands her words. Perhaps he does, fueled by magic as he is. ”Kerah?” It is a question and a pleased sound all at once, his head tilting slightly to study the girl, happy to be the center of attention for a moment. Happy enough that he doesn’t even mind that she has not brought him any shiny things. “I think he likes you. What is your name, child?” The way she says child is kind though, soft around the edges, like a caress and not an insult. In fact, for her to care at all what someone’s name is is a compliment, not that any of them would know about her. She cared only about the things that were useful to her, after all.
Eventually, the first mare is given a chance to speak. She does her best to answer, and Straia does not believe the mare is withholding anything, at least not on purpose. She nods slightly, considering. A few words catch her attention. Herds had been present in Beqanna when she’d ruled, but they were disconnected from the kingdoms. In fact she had tried to encourage that her headlands actually serve her, but that simply didn’t happen. Here though, it seems the opposite has become true, and she finds that rather interesting. Interesting too that there are “changes coming”, because certainly he couldn’t have know about them, about her. She didn’t even know until it happened. “What is the name of your herdland? I fear even those are different now.”
She pauses, considering for a moment, and then asks “Can you not defend yourselves?” The wording is perhaps cruel, but the tone is not. It is curiosity that drives the question, some part of her that wonders if they want to defend themselves but cannot, or that they truly would rather rely on the protection of someone else. There may or may not be an opportunity in it that she would find worthwhile.
11-10-2019, 04:57 PM (This post was last modified: 11-10-2019, 04:58 PM by Aten.)
Aten wasn't the last one to arrive; the trio of adults were soon joined not only by Liliana, Aten's friend, but also his foster filly through Lethia's adoption. The stallion's eyes were locked on Popinjay despite her greeting Turul and not Aten himself, watching as she greeted the raven instead of the mare while sauntering closer than Aten would've upon meeting some horse new for the first time.
Turul brushed his wing against Aten's withers to try and calm his friend, knowing the stallion was growing nervous upon seeing Popinjay and how brazen she was being. The stallion held himself in check, knowing he couldn't do anything that might show the mare he meant harm. Besides, it seemed that she was civil for now; she didn't appear with an intent to hurt the filly.
The gray-tinted mare offered a small portion of her history, leading Aten to believe the new mare had asked the former a question before his arrival. She then turned to the stallion and informed him that he was wrong in his deduction, for she was a Beqanna native and certainly not new to this strange land.
The stallion's mind drew on all the stories of old he'd collected during his time as a bachelor, hoping something would spring to mind. He also processed what the gray mare had said; far to the west, an island kingdom? He had a suspicion he knew her land of origin, but wondered what danger the king sensed that compelled him to give such a decree to his herd. What sort of trouble was falling upon the land like the shadows of the night when the sun set and rid the land of it's warmth?
Turul dipped his head to greet Liliana since Aten seemed occupied. The new mare answered Liliana's question, stating she was from a time in Beqanna when magic was far plentiful and kingdoms that once existed thrived under leaders Aten hadn't yet met. She then said a name that caused Aten's heart to race.
The Chamber... Liliana had mentioned that, suns ago, when she had searched Aten out in Taiga and asked his opinion on if any remnant of the extinct kingdom could still exist. He hadn't given her an exact answer, but his honest thoughts, saying the only traces that may be left were horses who had once called the Chamber their home.
And here was one, right in front of them. Aten could only wonder what Liliana would think about that.
The mare acknowledges the gray, asking her more about her headland and if they had the capacity to defend themselves. Aten didn't want to give away too many details, in fear of who may be listening among the grasslands and trees, but he at least knew a little something about this matter. Hopefully.
He spoke up, "Correct me if I wrong you," he began, looking to the gray, "But if my mind serves me right, you hail from Ischia?
"But whether or not, there is trouble stirring in the West," he continued, now looking at the new mare, "Lepis and Wolfbane of Taiga have been stirring trouble ever since the death of their colt. Lepis has plans to move Taiga under Loess' protection, by proxy it's leader, Castille. He himself wants to claim the West as his own land, upsetting the even balance of territory that each main piece has. Heartfire had come to me in Taiga and informed me she suspected as well. And now there is a new feeling shifting in the wind... I suspect it also may have something to do with why you have returned.
"The Chamber no longer exists, save for those, like yourself, who once called it your home. The Reckoning shifted the balance of Beqanna, and war is brewing on the horizon."
He would allow the other mares to speak if they had anything to say, for perhaps they knew more on this matter than he did. Aten had been gathering what information he could, but he could not journey from Taiga for too long under suspicion that Wolfbane and Lepis might deduce he was up to something. He'd upheld his end of the bargain though, he was now free to make his own choices.
And Turul had informed him of the arrival of a gray stallion not long ago, who had sought out Wolfbane and spoken of wanting to be his champion. Aten strongly suspected it meant his days as a protector of Taiga were numbered.
Lilliana had been like Straia once - she too had arrived on Beqanna's shores asking questions about lands long gone.
It seems almost ironic that one of those horses she asked stands with her now.
But unlike Straia, Lilliana hadn't been an old face. She has blood, old blood that still hums in her veins with the stories and legends of what used to be here, but that blood has been diluted with others. What is Beqanna but one stream in a world, amongst worlds, of rivers?
Where she once might have been bubbling like a brook with questions, the chestnut mare is quiet and regards Straia with a thoughtful gaze. What she is looking for, she doesn't know. Maybe Straia is bringing in a tide of change, maybe she is just another traveler passing through the Meadow. Lilliana has troubles that seem to prevent her from seeing clearly, so she does as she always has. She hopes for the best.
As the world-wanderer addresses the others, Aten, Aquaria and even indulging wild child Popinjay who has grown up laughing and racing beneath the canopies of Taiga, Lilliana silently admires the iridescence of the raven on Straia's back. It is the mention of the Chamber that calls her attention away, an interesting piquing beneath those sky blue eyes. It brings to mind another conversation about the Chamber but Lilliana decides to keep that to herself. The chestnut mare gives a slight nod to what the Raven Queen says to indicate that, yes she does know of the Chamber.
That even in the years after the Reckoning, it has not been forgotten.
She feels the warmth come off Aquaria like a rolling wave from Ischia's tropical shores and the chestnut mare listens as their diplomat speaks with an honesty to be admired. She turns her head slightly to watch the nereid as she speaks of the changes that are coming. Her lips press into a firm line on her dark mouth and there is another irony here: she thinks of Tyr and Antares and the message that the star brought from the heavens. Coincidence or are there more troubles than any of them can fathom brewing on Beqanna's horizon?
She, like Aquaria, hopes this king is wrong and that the dread she feels is misplaced.
It probably is.
She can almost exhale it into the winter air as she presses herself a little more in Aquaria, thinking she is seeking warmth. Aten turns his attention to them then and Lilli takes a moment to watch Popinjay who brazenly grins and appears to have no fear at all. The girl always had a wildfire spirit that Lilliana has admired and she does so again now. It is no small thing to blaze among strangers.
The softness that has settled on the planes of her face stills and then the Taigan turns her attention to Aten who speaks of.. everything. It might be common knowledge through Beqanna about the strife building between the North and South but the chestnut mare doesn't like to hear it out loud, so bare. She shivers despite the absence of the cold.
"War is always brewing on every horizon," she adds as if to minimize what the Champion has said. Windskeep, Beqanna, Beyond - what did it matter? It seemed their plight to argue amongst each other like petulant foals. And for a moment, anger rises. She has nowhere else to put that emotion. It flashes brilliant blue and sharpens the angles of her otherwise gentle face, if only for a moment.
With Aquaria pressed against her, with the heat of her words still on her tongue, it prompts her to ask the stranger, "How did the Chamber defend itself?" It's gone now, she knows. She doesn't mean to add insult to injury for its loss as she looks to Straia. But something that stood for so long, that she thinks she knows where a piece of it might remain, she wants to know how the Chamber defended itself in times of war.
