"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
He stumbles as he walks, his color draining into a drab sort of gray that offers no shine even in the warm spring sun. The tattoos across his face turn black but he seems unaware of it. His eyes are too blurred with tears as he returns home to his children and his wife. Deep, heaving sobs rattle through him when he manages to see find Malone through his blurry, tear-soaked vision. The boy knows his father doesn’t cry very often and so he rushes to meet him, at which point the angel boy collapses against his son’s shoulder. The star child folds his wings out and forward to embrace his father tightly.
“Dad, Dad what’s wrong? What happened?” he begs without loosening his grip. But Ophanim only continues to weep and gasp for breath in response. The younger male hesitates, afraid of what he might see, but he dips into his father’s thoughts and pulls the images from his mind. He sees the missing stump that was once a wing and the torn throat that paints a blue mare’s chest bright red. He sees the claw marks marring her entire body and he gags at the sight. Jenova. Grandmother. She always came to visit them in the spring, he remembers.
“Mom!” he cries out, his own eyes suddenly filling with tears as he leans his head over Ophanim’s. She had always been so kind and caring, delighted to see all of them no matter the trouble they had caused while she was away. No one deserved to be torn apart the way she was, he thinks. Especially not her. “Mom, it’s Grandmother. Something.. something got her.”
And the words summon a new wave of anguish that sends Ophanim to his knees, wings drooping at his sides. He should have asked her to stay with them instead of leading her solitary, nomadic life. He should have said how much he loved her and done it often. His lamentations come, one after another, and consume his mind while Malone can only bury his face against his father’s shoulder.
and let me crawl inside your veins. I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain.
It was quiet in Sylva, and the spring sunlight created patterns of dapples across the forest floor. Starsin was busy with Larrikin, who had decided to finally grace everyone with his presence just a few weeks ago. He was perfect, just like Malone and Lilt, with his striking king cheetah markings and his glowing constellations. She cannot help but to feel a little smug that her children with Ophie never looked like the rest of his. They were distinctly theirs.
But Malone’s panicked cry shatters her tranquility, and she can feel her blood turn to ice as Ophanim’s heart feels like it breaks in two inside of her chest. Looking down at her youngest son, she presses her lips sweetly to his forehead, and then requests gently, “You should go find Lilt, okay? She said she was going to that pond over there.” She waits, until he is nearly out of sight, and then she hastily turns to find Malone.
The sight of Ophanim collapsed on the ground brings a flood of memories of the war against Tephra, of him bleeding and dying, and she can feel panic bubbling up in her throat. She places a kiss first to the side of Malone’s face, trying her best to piece together what he had said, along with the torrent of thoughts going through both of their minds. And when she finally does it feels like someone has slammed the air out of her lungs.
Ophanim, now a dull gray and with streaks of black rather than gold, commands her full attention. She lowers her head to his, resting her forehead gently against his as she whispers with an ache in her throat, “I’m sorry, love. I’m so, so sorry.” She cannot relate to his pain, because her own mother meant absolutely nothing to her. But Jenova was not like Starlust, and she can feel the way his heart is broken and bleeding inside of her chest, and even if she cannot relate, she can understand. His pain was her own, and she is sure that even if their hearts were not switched that his pain would still be just as tangible.
But somewhere beneath her anguish and her grief, there is a fury slowly being born. It is merely an ember, for now, but she can feel it spreading through her chest as she kisses her sweet husband’s face and she asks softly, “Do you know who did it?” Because whoever it is, she is already imagining them shattered into a million pieces.
starsin
it’s not like me to be so mean. you’re all I wanted.
He had been riding a sort of high since the birth of their youngest son and thought it was a shame that others would never know such joy. Malone had been ecstatic to have a brother to dote on. He loved Lilt, of course, but she was not entirely in sync with his games or ideas. Sometimes she wanted a break from the chaos that boys can bring with them. But now all those bright memories and delighted thoughts seem so far away as Ophanim lays in the forest floor just wondering how things could go so wrong.
Malone leans gently into her kiss before stepping back to give her room with Ophanim, though he paces uneasily near them. But the angel boy can only meet his wife’s eyes as she lowers her head to his. Words do not find his lips when she whispers so gently against him, only those sobs that rattle his entire body. Slowly, as though anchored down by his dread and his agony, he stumbles back onto his hooves so that he might press his chest to Starsin’s. There is some comfort that manages to cut through his pain by having their firstborn and his soulmate here, at least.
He rests his chin over the back of her neck and tries to piece together some clue from the carnage he saw. There were claw marks in the mud and dirt, he thinks, but it means little to him. Still, Malone’s ears perk at the thought and he briefly meets his mother’s eyes before turning and hurrying off. He doesn’t know who to tell but he is certain he will find someone.
“I don’t know. She had no enemies. Who would hurt someone like her?” he finally manages to choke out. “I wanted her to meet Larrikin so badly. I wanted her to see how much Lilt and Malone have grown.”
He closes his eyes, thinking of all the things they can never do again. Now all they have are the stories of her time with them. Ophanim buries his face in Starsin’s mane and holds her a little too tight, now terrified she may be next.
and let me crawl inside your veins. I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain.
She isn’t sure if she has ever seen Ophanim fall apart when she was not the one that had unraveled the thread. She didn’t know how to fix a pain that was not her doing; she didn’t know how to right a wrong that she had not caused. It left her feeling utterly helpless, and feeling helpless led to those faint, but familiar tendrils of anger that threatened to curl around the expanse of her ribs. But the suffocating anguish of his heart inside of her chest is the only thing that keeps her anchored next to him instead of disappearing to hunt down anyone that had been anywhere near Loess.
She readily rests her body against his when he stands, and for a moment she fixates on the feel of their hearts beating against each other, and mindlessly she runs her lips along his neck. Her eyes find Malone’s when they both register the thought of claws, and when he slips away she fights her motherly instinct to call after him. If she knew Malone at all he was off to find Meraxes and the two of them would scheme up something, and she rarely approved of any of their ideas. But she bites back her protests, reminding herself that Malone was, technically, an adult, and that he wasn’t likely to listen to her regardless. She can’t say that she blames him; because even as she stands there murmuring softly to Ophie, she is still debating all the ways she would handle whatever monster did this once she finds it.
“I don’t know, it doesn’t make sense,” she says softly, doing her best to keep her voice even and to not let her anger and that relentless need for revenge creep into her tone. She knew that wasn’t what he needed right now, and he was perhaps the only living thing besides her children that could make her think of someone else’s needs besides her own. It’s why she doesn’t mind when he pulls her in tighter. It’s why she responds by curling closer and pressing her lips against his skin when she hears his worried thoughts, reaching to rest her mouth near his ear and though her voice is quiet it is unwavering when she says, “I’m not going to be next. There is nothing and no one that can take me from you.”
But the sigh that she breathes has a tremble to it when she lays her cheek against his neck, and inside his chest her heart twists and clenches to match the way his writhes within hers. “Just tell me what you need me to do, my angel boy. I don’t know how to fix this.”
starsin
it’s not like me to be so mean. you’re all I wanted. ( just let me hold you Like a hostage. )
