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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    Take notice of what light does...to everything.
    #1

    They were hungry. Winter had covered them in a shadow of malnourishment and dehydration, fed itself and left them to rot like leftover waste.

    Though as usual, Ruth has no care for negativity. She challenges the shadows with her golden-like aura—frightening even the darkest corners of Beqanna.

    Brine looks in awe at her golden world, having grown so fast in the last year she sometimes forgets to appreciate the little moments. It’s something you learn—having a child. You learn to savour the time spent, it’s only so long before her entire world realizes childhood is not followed by obligatory company.

    Ruthless stands above the waterbed, freshly thawed and chilled like having been poured over ice. Her muzzle lipping at the liquid playfully, her hazel eyes watching each drop fall to a ripple-y end. The little sun child was not such a child anymore, but a newly crowned yearling. And she is bored. Tired of survival.

    “When do we get to live, mom” evident turmoil and angst clinging to every word like bees on honey; lifting her head to see her mother squarely. “You deserve to live too.”

    Do I, though?

    Brine, much less sunny—a lover of the shadows, where she could conceal her greatest flaws—looks at her daughter shamefully. It is here and now that Brine begins to process the likelihood that even Ruthless, her prized possession and all she has left to live for—the only way light enters her gloomiest, most shadowed hours—would eventually grow sick of her, too.

    It was only a matter of time before sky would go black again.

    As if for protection, Brine dismisses her daughter entirely. She turns on her hindquarters to walk towards the tree line, hoping that as always her little darling Ruth would follow in tow; even if reluctant.

    “Brine,” she commands though child-like tones still creep off her tongue. Enough to scare a few songbirds from their perch on a nearby branch, taking advantage of the windless day and flying away from the anger evidently brewing.

    “You do not call me that,” Brine turns to match her daughter’s challenge, the ongoing trend as of late. It had only started with brief moments of frustration, a mirrored judgment made vocal. They had portrayed their biggest fears into each other and held resentment for being fearful at all.

    I don’t know how to live because I have only ever survived.

    Ruthless softens upon seeing her mother’s exhausted expression, the light in her heart seeing the darkness damper Brine’s face like a cloud hiding the sun. Her mother is beautiful, with flecks of white and blue and black all woven together with sewing needles. Despite their lack of food, her body still holds shape and her muscles stay true. A warrior.

    A warrior who battles the deepest and darkest demons hidden in those very shadowy corners of her mind. Ruthless sees it.

    “I am sorry,” she sighs, taking a few reluctant steps forward though her heart desperate to run. “I am sorry.”

    And so they stand in heavy silence for a few short minutes—the emotions of guilt and resentment washing over them both, though painted in different colours.

    Brine knew the problem; it had been forecasted in her future since Ruth’s birth. Eventually Ruth would outgrow her, like all children must. It must be hard for our angsty little mouse, to know that the only thing that has kept her living would eventually leave too. And she would leave, taking all the light with her.

    Leaving Brine in a pit of blackness.

    In silent agreement, the females retreated back into the tree line. It feels awkward as they walk, Ruthless focusing on the puddles exploding beneath her hooves. Brine, trying to find anything else to think of.

    It is a long day for the mares. Full of light weight discussion and avoidance, but better than silence. As the sun finally begins to set, Brine feels herself at peace with how the day went. It didn’t go well, certainly not mother-of-the-year material, but it didn’t end in more sadness.

    And to our little mouse who doesn’t see much cheese, she takes what she can get.

    “Mom,” Ruth turns to see her mother nibbling at freshly sprouted grass peaking through white slush. It is in this moment she sees her mother, so naïve and innocent. A broken light with shattered pieces scoured across the floor. What must it be like to sweep up every piece of broken glass only to carry it around for the day until you are finally allowed to let it lay once more?

    Brine looks over to her daughter, “yes?”

    “Can we please try, one more time. Just once?” Desperation lathers her words in a way that makes Brine’s stomach turn. Being a mother is being self-less. It’s living for your child. She has always vowed to live for her little world of light.

    “OK,” the word slips into the air as agreement, but it is reluctant—it is hesitant.

    Be the mother she needs you to be. Be the mother she needs you to be.

    “Lead the way, baby Ruth” Brine’s smile is soft and warm, every inch of her begging to not show the cold, numbness tingle that creeps along her spine.

    And so they go—for one more time—to their usual place: at the top of the field, just yards from the forest treeline to wait. To a place where horses are abundant, and so are recruiters. A place where maybe, just maybe if she times it right, they can find a home that fits them both.

    A place where maybe her little light wouldn’t disappear, but instead be a beacon for when life becomes black again.


    Brine

    take notice of what life doesto everything

    Reply
    #2
    Kalil's first winter caught within Taiga's forest left the colt eager to get out and explore once the last traces of snow left the ground. Aten and Lethia also wished to keep him close since a storm seemed to be brewing among some residents of Taiga and Loess. The yearling had yet to learn of the darkness that could be stirred through words and bloodshed, and Aten was glad to keep him from that world until he was older.

    But Kalil, much like his sire had been, was unnaturally perceptive. Even without details, he just seemed to know that something wasn't right in his home. Only a year, and he was just as adept at listening to the wood and the trees as both of his parents were, despite Aten's years living there that easily outnumbered a good measure of residents that currently did.

    When the remaining traces of snow melted and Beqanna gave way to the warmth of spring's grip that brought forward new life, Aten was also eager to get out and stretch his legs. Having been grazing near his family as usual on the morning he decided to head out, Kalil heard his sire's plan and was all too excited to tell him he wanted to go too. Since the weather was much nicer now, and things almost seemed to have calmed down for a moment, Aten agreed, promising Lethia he would watch over their son.

    They made the day-long journey to the Field without stopping much, resting for the night when they were close enough so they would be fresh and ready to greet others come the morning hours. Kalil settled in near his sire as they grazed on the fresh spring grass throughout the night, taking turns to rest and sleep while the other grazed and kept watch for any signs of danger.

    When dawn rose and both sire and son were awake, Aten led his son to a nearby source of water so they could have a drink before they continued on. They could tell they were close to the field when they saw a good number of horses, foals included, clustered in groups, which Aten told Kalil was pretty normal for the field since mares who birthed foals and didn't have a home were frequently found here so they could still remain in groups and be safe.

    Kalil's budding questions were easily answered by his sire, and the colt's curiosity was insatiable. Aten made sure to tell him to be careful of mares with their newborns though, that even if one was trying to be polite and perhaps offer them a home if they were in search of one, they could be very defensive and protective of their newborns and wouldn't appreciate two strangers venturing so close.

    Their search hadn't been going on for many long hours before Kalil spotted something in the distance, two horses standing at the top of the field's hills near the direction of the forest. Aten followed his son's gaze, silently wondering what two horses were doing up there, away from the groups, preferring each other's company instead.

    Aten motioned for his son to follow, saying he didn't find any reason they couldn't go investigate. Kalil eagerly turned and followed his sire, the colt's legs, though still long and gangly, easily helping him keep up. Aten often joked that his son with Lethia was definitely developing better that Ten himself had at this age. He had been all leg and no muscle as a yearling, but looking at Kalil in comparison, even with long legs, his body was already thick with muscle, his chest pronounced, jawline proud, eyes fine, and tapered muzzle setting off characteristics he inherited from both of his parents. He was definitely a fine colt, a son that made Aten and Lethia very proud.

    Both slowed their gait to a walk as they approached the two ahead of them, with Aten stepping forward to greet them first.

    "Good morning. I hope I find you both in good health today," he greeted in his usual fashion. Aten dipped his head as a sign of 'hello', Kalil imitating his sire. "What brings you out into the fresh spring Field today?"

    @[Brine]
    Reply
    #3

    Brine

    “Look,” Ruthless is first to notice—as she often is—the oncoming company decorated in curiosity and confidence. The golden child nods her head to her mother as if to say , come on, we need this.

    The shadowed mother lets out a long sigh, allowing the steam particles from her breath to ease into the evening air. Oh, how she longed for her daughter to look at her in the same regard the looks at strangers: with hope, anticipation, promise.

    How could her little golden world do that though, when all Brine has to offer are empty packages of maybes, and little certainty. Her light is burning out, and Brine is running out of matches.

    So, she turns. Like any other mother, she withholds her protest for the sake of her child. Her hesitancy is vibrantly painted across her face like a stop sign. Ruthless might see promise in everyone, but Brine sees disappointment. She sees distrust.

    She sees the hidden snuff behind every false smile—ready to suffocate the oxygen from every last flame burning.

    Ruthless, however, is a walking forest fire. She has no fear.

    It only takes minutes before they pause at a comfortable distance. Brine watches as the golden stallion comes to a halt with a little one in tow. Her mothering heart reaches out to him, though she dares not show it. Motherhood had stripped her from her hatred of children; having found a new soft spot for little ones.

    You’re OK.

    His voice is the first male voice she had heard since last year—and while Ruthless finds his tone soothing—Brine nearly leaps from her stance. It prickles her ears and triggers spikes to rise across her spine, her wings uncomfortably tighten around her stomach as a desperately needed safety blanket. She fades into a blank stare, her mind wandering.

    Please, please. I said no, I said stop.

    “But darling, we have only just started.


    The soft touch of a velvet muzzle breaks her from her jailed mind, looking to see her little sun staring at her with hazel brown eyes. If Brine could blush, her cheeks would have popped a vibrant pink of embarrassment as Ruthless again chooses to be the strong pillar surrounded by rubble and demolished brick.

    “Hello,” her voice is alien to her, not the warm soft tone she has grown accustom to using, but then again this isn’t the company she is used to speaking with.

    Ruthless notices her mother falter, an observation she had grown far too used to.

    “Hi!” Her voice is light-hearted, and airy. When she speaks the field lights up with her energy; begging to be included. Ruthless could ignite an entire globe with her aura, like a lone light hung on the cabin porch with insects drawn to her glow.

    “I am Ruthless,” and with that—ever so nonchalantly—the child walks over to close the gap, leaning forward to offer her nose in greeting; inhaling the odd, foreign scent that wafts from their coats. “That is my mother, Brine. You guys smell delicious!”

    Brine internally winces. Baby Ruth had never been one for small talk, like a Labrador she forced herself to your lap and demanded to be loved and accepted. Her ignorance to danger only a symptom of a sheltered life. A life Brine would die to hold true.

    The shadowed mare nods in acknowledgment to her daughter’s poorly executed introduction, however an introduction none the less. As always, Ruthless is stepping up to the plate while her mom cowers in the corner. A mouse and a cat, can you guess who is who?

    For a second—perhaps maybe two—silence bestows them. Ruthless glances back at her wilting mother, an expression of desperation. They needed a home. They needed these two.

    All Brine must do is respond.

    Yet, her throat is full, and her mouth tightened.

    Speak, God damnit. Speak.

    “Mph,” her throat clears and in the most cautious way, “we have—we are homeless. We are hoping to find a place—I want to find a place for Ruthless. I as well, but… Ruthless needs somewhere to go. I—I can’t, I can’t do enough for her myself.”

    Sudden realization crashes over the somber roan. A child raising a child, this is all it was. For too long she had continued to let Ruth down, and today would be her daughter’s time. It is Ruth’s time to do something with her life. Her golden child needed the chance to shine, and all Brine had done was cast shadows over her chance.

    Not this time.

    Even if it meant saying goodbye until next time.

    Ruthless glances back at her mother, horrified at the idea. Though she does not say anything, not a thing at all, because Brine knows deep down Ruth sees it too. She sees the baggage hung carelessly across her
    mother’s conscious, constantly ripping her from progress. She sees her mother thrive, only to be startled into a hole by the break of a nearby branch.

    And what sort of life is that for her child?

    take notice of what light does—to everything



    @[Aten]
    [Image: Brine-Signature.png]
    Reply
    #4

    Eurwen
    the secret of walking on water
    is knowing where the rocks lie
    The Field. It is a challenge in it’s own right for her to get here; she still looks a little scrawny, as if she is the one looking for a home instead of trying to pull others to her own. She is restoring, healing; the gleam in her eyes and the strength in her steps despite her bony appearance, reveal this to the ones who look close enough.

    If they do, look close enough, the pink-dotted mare can’t tell. More often than not the metallic rose-golden gleam of her mane catches someone’s attention, or the fact that she is a full appaloosa, not many of which still present in Beqanna. Thanks, mom, for making me stand out while I don’t want or need to - but that’s not fair. Breckin was never the type to want to stand out either, and she’s pretty sure her father had good reason to be a little jealous of how many looked her way.

    Her mother though - she had an inner radiance as well, a strength visible on the outside. A true fit for Nerine, as she would have been a fit for the amazons. Grammama had recruited her and she would know; she still had the rose tattoo. If she lived, that was.

    She shakes her head. She’s not here for sad thoughts, not here to be compared to her mother, she wouldn’t win anyway. Not currently, but probably not ever. She’s too shy for it, she is certain - but stubborn as well. And so, a month after returning home, Eurwen wants to contribute. That’s why she’s here.

    She nears a small group - mare, stallion, foal, yearling. They could have passed for one family, if the roan mare didn’t look skittish about the whole ordeal. The stallion’s scent is one she faintly recognizes. Perhaps he visited her home recently, but now he smells of pinewood and sea mist. Taiga, she thinks. It takes her a moment to place his visage; then she smiles and walks up to the three of them. ”Hello. Aten, right? I didn’t know Taiga was recruiting.” Wasn’t there a bit of a struggle? She had not paid enough attention, clearly, she chastides herself.

    She shakes her head. Where are her manners? ”I’m sorry for intruding like that. I’m Eurwen, but Wen is fine,” she tells the four of them, but mostly the foals as she remembers her nickname was made up by a sister who had trouble with the ‘Aey-ohr’ sound in the first syllable. ”I’m from Nerine.”

    And she smiles while she says it, proud of herself that she belongs there once more. After everything she’d been through… the waves and rocks were her home.
    Reply
    #5

    She wants to be anywhere other than Taiga.

    The light in the northern forest feels like it is growing dimmer by the day, the shadows casting longer despite the fact that spring brings warmth and life and renewal to their wood. Lilliana wants to be away from the tension that broods in there. She wants to be away and so she goes, following a quiet brook that bubbles its satisfaction with springtime next to her. The further she goes away from Taiga, the more that scents and sights and smells of other places come back to her, the brighter the sun gets. It feels warm on her copper hide and it is a startling revelation to Lilliana that this is first time she has felt it in months.

    Had the previous winter truly been that cold and desolate?

    At some point, the redwoods become less and less dense. Eventually, they disappear altogether and give way to the other important landmarks of Beqanna: the rolling hills of Loess and the mighty mountains of Hyaline on either side of her. But even those aren't enough to taunt her away from her thoughts - that even though she leaves the shadows of Taiga behind her, they linger long after in her mind.

    She doesn't mean to go to the Field. She doesn't mean too but the Forest is a place she avoids entirely and there is no allure in the Meadow for her this spring day. No matter how sweetly it might beckon, Lilliana can't bring herself to go where the height of the season is at its peak. So she keeps going with no destination in mind, just intent on walking. There is only the desire to keep herself moving.

    It's a name that catches her memory, which causes a daintily-tipped ear to flick in its direction. This is the Field - there are many voices on any given day. This voice, however, is bright and full of the promise that the day has yet to bring - this voice is familiar and yet somehow different since the last time she has heard it. Lilliana stops and hears it again, that singsong voice brimming with enthusiasm and vitality and when the Taigan mare takes a few steps off her trail - she realizes she has been here before. 

    Lilliana continues through the concealment of the branches and brambles that keep her away from Ruth and before she can greet the filly, she hears the deep baritones of Aten greeting the winged-child and.. Brine. Lilli remembers the roan mare from their last meeting and her vivacious daughter. The copper mare comes through the treeline, calling gently to golden Aten and his son - a boy who she thinks represents the best of both his parents. There is an appreciation behind her blue eyes as she takes him in, thinking that the colt is a representation of the future that she and the Champion are working towards. "Aten," she greets kindly before turning her attention the golden filly, "Have you learned to fly yet, Ruth?"

    There is another mare that approaches, a lovely girl who smells of wild cliffs and seaspray. Nerine. Lilliana nods a greeting to Eurwen before feeling her concerned expression come to rest on Brine as she speaks, feeling her heart weigh down with each word that she says. Lilli doesn't frown but she feels herself wishing that she know Brine better - well-enough to offer a mother comfort who is seeking to provide a better life for her child.

    The ultimate sacrifice of a parent.

    Lilliana is quiet, contemplative as she thinks. She tries to find a compromise, a way to ease all those jagged edges of Brine's pain that shows on her dark face. Sometimes, there isn't one to be found. But sometimes, she thinks as she glances next to the golden Champion that she come stand beside, there might be one. 

    A deep breath as the chestnut mare gathers those thoughts, formulates them into an idea. For a moment, Lilli wishes they would go anywhere other Taiga. "Perhaps, Aten," she says slowly, "You might take Ruthless to Taiga to meet your other children? And show her the forest?" It's a bold thing she is asking and there is an apology behind those blue eyes, flickering past for saying these words before she has asked permission.

    She glances to rose-spotted Eurwen and lets the other half of her idea fall into place. "I'm actually overdue for a visit to a friend in Nerine." And finally, Lilliana turns her attention to the roan mare. "Perhaps Eurwen and I could accompany you there? Taiga and Nerine border each other," she offers. An explanation for the mother. "Trips between the two lands wouldn't be difficult." For how much longer that remains, she doesn't know. The only other place she could recommend would be Ischia with it's heavenly beaches and lovely nereids - with kind Aquaria and Eva who had wanted to make their tropical paradise a haven.

    The Diplomat feels the tug of a small smile as she tries to encourage Ruth's mother. "And if isn't what you are seeking, then we can help you find wherever home might be."

    @[Aten] @[Brine] @[Eurwen]

    but it's all in the past, love
    it's all gone with the wind
    Reply
    #6
    It seemed that the older mare was trying to get some words out, but something was holding her back. Not knowing what it was, Aten and Kalil just watched her for a moment until the filly at her side spoke up. Her own voice is much higher than Aten's soothing deep tone, and even with Kalil's young age, his own is deep enough that it is quite obvious he is a colt without having to get near and smell him.

    The filly strides over without a care, surprising the grown stallion with her openness. Kalil, however, was eager to make a new friend, smiling wide and standing tall as he pawed at the ground with one hoof until the filly got close enough that he could sniff her too. The filly's nostrils went wide as she, with Aten's understanding, inhaled their scent to try and figure out where they were from, Kalil walking forward to do the same and exchange pleasantries with the filly.

    She introduced herself and her dam as Ruthless and Brine, her enthusiasm making Aten smile along with his colt. The stallion spoke more to the filly, sensing her dam's unease, "Very nice to meet you Ruthless. My name is Aten, and this is my son."

    He stopped there to let the colt introduce himself. Kalil stood up tall, his chest pronounced, "Hi Ruthless, hello Brine. My name's Kalil. It's nice to meet you both."

    After a moment of silence, the mare decided to speak up, though her words were hesitant and careful. She explained why they were out here in the Field, before stating the reason why was more for Ruthless and less for herself. This left little Kalil puzzled and Aten curious, but also understanding. He knew what it was like to seek help only for the sake of a loved one, and he had been on the receiving end of that too, ages ago, when his sister's herd stallion kicked him out.

    Ruthless also seemed surprised, if the way she looked at her dam said anything. Aten was prepared to say more, but the group of four were soon joined by another... a mare, one Aten did not recognize.

    She walked up to the group and greeted him by name, however, leaving Aten wondering how she knew him. She did seem friendly enough, not showing any signs of hostility, and Aten felt he was a good judge of character in most situations. The mare then introduces herself as Eurwen, along with a nickname, but Aten noted he would use her full name until he got to know her better.

    She questions Taiga's recruiting before stating her home, but the second was not needed since Aten recognized her scent as well. The golden stallion gave his head a light shake, his forelock falling over his right eye as he spoke.

    "Despite the... incidents, that have occurred between the parties involved with Taiga and some outside kingdoms, I am not going to shirk my responsibility. I still have an obligation to Taiga, to others that are here in the Field and searching for a home."

    And speaking of Taiga...

    Aten might've missed Lilliana if the mare hadn't spoken to him when she walked up, addressing him by name, before looking at the filly. Kalil, like his sire, greeted Lilliana with a dip of his head, smiling in a friendly manner at the mare. The colt moved to stand on Aten's other side as Lilliana came to stand beside him, and Kalil noted the power and poise the two adults carried themselves with as he looked up at them with a proud gaze in his eyes.

    He loved his dam... his sire... and even if he didn't know her too well yet, he enjoyed Lilliana's company, and it seemed his sire did too. It appeared to the colt that his sire and the chestnut mare were good friends, something he hoped they wouldn't lose even with what had been going on in Taiga lately. He didn't understand politics yet, but he knew something was up.

    Lilliana goads the idea of Brine and Ruthless paying a visit to Taiga so Ruthless could meet Aten's other foals, an idea he wasn't opposed to. Kalil was also pleased by this, giving his sire a smile, hoping Aten would agree too. Lilliana then address the roan mare, saying she and Eurwen could accompany Brine to Nerine since she wished to see a friend there.

    Aten didn't have anything negative to say; he may be out recruiting for Taiga, but since he still considered Nerine a sister kingdom given his friendship with Heartfire. Aten addressed the mare and filly pair, "Taiga would be glad to welcome you, whether you choose to go see Nerine or not. There are many friendly faces in both territories, and I'd be happy to show you the kingdom I call home, and Eurwen seems quite eager too."

    @[Brine] @[Eurwen] @[lilliana]
    Reply
    #7

    Brine

    And all of the sudden, a party unraveling before her before she even has time to process.

    Perhaps, though, this is a good thing. It gives her less time to run, and forces her to be the adult she has to be for the little light now dwindling in uncertainty as Brine tries to make sense of her words. Had she said that out loud? Did Aten judge her?

    Ruth takes a few steps backwards, letting the feelings process through her stomach and up into her throat. For a minute, she understands the overwhelming anxiety that shadows her mother every day. She feels it like a heavy blanket, suffocating her positivity and exhaling a cool, judgmental air that sets across her spine and hindquarters.

    What would her mother do, without the constant heat of Ruthless warming her like a cold-blooded reptile to motivate and move to survive. Would this Lilliana and Eurwen be enough? Would they warm her and remind her that she is safe?

    What would Ruthless do if the job of caring was taken away? It’s all she knows.

    That’s her mom.

    Would that change?

    Her eyes cast over to her mother, seeing as Brine adapts to the attention swarming her like bees on honey. They may not notice, but Brine softens at the presence of Lilliana. A familiarity wafts over her as she remembers the chestnut mare from only a year prior, when Ruthless had been a newborn exploring the meadow with a warm ray of sunshine igniting her golden back.

    “Lilliana,” Brine exhales. A comforting face, someone who not too long ago extended her offer of safety and promise. “Hello again.”

    The newest mare—Eurwen—seemed welcomed by others, so at the very least Brine can accept her into the circle knowing that others deemed her fit. The shadowed mother holds strong in her stance, though every inch of her is begging to hold Ruth close in these unchartered waters.

    Ruthless—gathering her emotions and processing the overwhelming guilt setting across her shoulders—ignores Lilliana’s question regarding her wings momentarily. She turns to her mother, doe eyes and a lowered head in fear of the verdict; the jury in discussion, the soft buzz of concerned murmurs whispering across the otherwise silent court room.

    “I don’t really want to go without you,” she softly voices, uncertainty and confusion wiped on her expression, a face the little light child has not grown used to.

    For a moment, her light becomes a smolder.

    “Oh, little Ruth,” Brine moves over to the palomino filly, who has replaced the radiation of excitement with ambiguity. “Every child eventually outgrows the comfort of their mom, and you outgrew me the minute you were born. It’s your time now, and even if I am not with you every day, I am with you in heart always.

    “Look at how fun Kalil must have with other friends his age. I am sure he would like you as a friend,” And for the first time ever, Brine feels accomplished. Accomplished in her parenting, in her mentoring, in her support. Confident in her deliverance, her wording, her decision.

    Ruthless lingers, processing the calmness Brine has offered.

    “I do not want to,” a pout surely would form if horses were capable of such advanced expressions, the immaturity of a child blossoming after so many days of having to be the caregiver instead of the cared for. Ruthless, after all, is only a year old with the miles and knowledge of a wise, old soul.

    “Off you go,” she nudges her little golden child at the shoulder, pushing her forward in encouragement not force. “I will visit you often, as a good mother should.”

    And with that, the shadow and light separates. After competing for night and day, the war ends in not a choice—before blood sheds and survivors tremble—but a compromise.

    “Lilliana, Eurwen. If you do not mind, what is the way?” She shifts her attention to the other mares, not entirely satisfied—in fact, probably the complete opposite—but hopeful, hopeful that as a mother she is making the right decision for her baby Ruth. Confident that without her, Ruthless can thrive into the woman Brine was never able to be.

    Confident that her shadows would no longer suffocate the last life of flame burning.


    take notice of what light does—to everything



    @[Eurwen] @[lilliana] @[Aten]
    [Image: Brine-Signature.png]
    Reply
    #8

    Eurwen
    the secret of walking on water
    is knowing where the rocks lie
    She doesn’t exactly understand how all these horses relate; how they know one another. Aten had ruled the Taiga before she figuratively fell off the face of the earth, so the smell on him and his description, had her place him fairly easily. The rumors of unrest, she had not been able to escape even in her limited interaction with the rest of the world; and as a Nerinian and former-heir, she thought it her duty to at least keep up with the latest news about the kingdom and its territories.

    The fact that he calls it an incident with outside kingdoms, plural, however makes her frown at him a little. What does that mean? They are Nerine, all of them, to her. Or does he think to be independent on his own? With no territory beneath them, would Taiga even be a kingdom? Did he mean to drop Nerine because a Loessian had decided to upheave the balance?

    The rose-marked mare stares in the distance a moment, looking through Aten more than she looks at him. When she comes to her senses, her head almost shakes, but she collects herself. The fact that the Taigans think of themselves as a wholly independent land, says a lot, but she’s not here for politics; not looking for a discussion. She’ll save it for a later date.

    She doesn’t recognize the others in the group, but the red mare does smell of the same pinewoods, and the familiarity between her and Aten makes it obvious that she is not only a resident of the redwoods, but perhaps also a friend of his, at the least. Lilliana greets the roan mare like an old friend, and the feathered filly as well. Ruth, she is called, a short for Ruthless, Eurwen learns.

    Part of the conversation then, is this lost on her as she considers what Aten is saying, and keeps implying between the lines. They are separating themselves then, she finds. If not in name then certainly in spirit. She turns to Lilliana and Brine, then eyes Ruth, wondering what they think.

    The filly seems uneager to leave her mother - to separate; about as much as Eurwen does not wish to separate Taiga and Nerine. If they belong together and symbiose well, then why split up at all? The question is in her dark pools as she makes eye contact with the chestnut mare, but as Brine seems to have already made her decision, it is entirely out of Eurwen’s grasp. The roan seems to think it’s a good thing to let go of her daughter, perhaps it was her own idea; the metallic-maned mare doesn’t see why. She knows her twin and she were as night and day as well, and it never hurt them either to live in the same land. But perhaps the context is different… she had lived in a lively kingdom, with others to turn to when she didn’t feel like joining her sister’s games; Ruth seemed to be with her mother only, wandering the common lands.

    ”You’re not truly separating,” she tells the yearling filly, feeling it is important that she knows that she can always come by. ”Taiga is a territory of Nerine. The border is virtually nonexistent between our lands.” At least, as far as Eurwen was concerned. Taigans are as home in Nerine as any who call the cliffs their home. If they want to be, is another question, but it never hurts to be welcoming, she thinks.

    Brine asks for the way, and Eurwen’s dark eyes move to meet the roan mare’s; she nods solemnly. ”Of course. It’s due north; just past Taiga. We can travel as a group if you want, or leave now if you want to reach it before dark.”
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