"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
How lonely to croak the live long day, to an unanswering bog....
That's what it felt like, anyway. That I was just one more toad in the pond, croaking away while everyone else lived their lives. I'd needed to recover, of course, from the trial a fairy had set me. I'm still not sure if it was real or illusion, but it sets my teeth on edge all the same. A lot of work, and nothing gained by it. The same gaudy Belle I've always been.
Anyway.
Boredom set its claws in me once again, as summer heat returned to the land. I was tired of doing nothing. Of chewing the same weeds and swimming in the same pool and doing the same damn thing every day. Time for a change.
I'd heard rumors that she'd moved. Reia. The flaming girl who'd stumbled on me the year before. Princess, or whatever. She'd been called away to the land that bordered us to the North, for reasons I didn't know. Maybe her mouth had gotten the better of her at the wrong time, and earned her a bit of exile? That would fit. I couldn't think of any other reason daddy dragon would let his precious nestling go.
Easy enough to find the place. All I had to do was look for trees, in massive proportions. That was easy enough to do with an aerial view. My glossy wings let me glide most of the way there on a helpful wind, letting me down just at the border line. Hey, I'd learned something after all in my stint of kingdom life. Let them come to you.
Flickering lightning marks pulsed with my heartbeat, more visible in the shade these massive trees cast. A beacon for any passers-by. I took stock while I waited to be found. Poor Reia, if this was really where they'd sent her. This was a far cry from the craggy, reckless land we'd been occupying. All tripping tree roots and pine pitch coated trunks. Hopefully the hunting was at least decent. If nothing else, there was a few degrees coolness beneath the imposing trees that proved relief from the summer sun. Small miracles.
Gods, where was she? Or anyone, really. My hip rested against a broad trunk, and already I was regretting this spurt of initiative. It's not like we're friends. It seemed girls like us didn't really have friends. Just... A couple of mares with semi-shared interests. Still, it had been something to do.
01-08-2020, 08:12 PM (This post was last modified: 01-08-2020, 08:13 PM by Reia.)
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
”Go explore,” she murmurs to Adarra once drawing in Rebelle’s familiarity. Her daughter peers up at her, frowning and slightly inclining her head. ”Where are you going?” Ever curious, but in the kindest of ways. The girl watches her parents closely, even when they assume her asleep in the shadows. There’s an ulterior motive also, but she never tells them.
She does, in fact, have a twin, but he is lost.
A great reservation purses her lips shut each time he crosses her thoughts. It would be worrisome if she mentioned to mother that she shared a womb with another, that her soul is incomplete without the other half. Adarra never laid eyes on her sibling, but she breathed him in and danced to the beat of his heart. He exists even if their parents think it a figment of mother’s imagination.
And so, the child inwardly hopes that Reia is beginning a venture to find the missing link of their family, but she masks her disappointment with a nod when mother simply says, ”To find a fish.” They peel apart then, but Adarra remains fairly close as Reia slips away and finds herself in front of Rebelle after a short walk.
”I wasn’t planning on fishing today,” the blue flames along her crest crackle, illuminating the sharp edges of her face. Light ripples across her scales, bringing the colors of her body to life. A curious sweep over her eyes scrutinizes the familiar face, one from her childhood, one from prior to motherhood. ”Hello, tuna,” fish has been on the menu before, but not in months. How tempting it is to resume.
Licking her teeth contemplatively, Reia asks, ”Following me?”
The scent of smoke arrives before she does. The soft glow of flame in the dim forest emerges, the mare it belongs to pale in her own light. A salty smile twists my lips, nearly welcoming of the very woman I had come to find.
"Hello soot-for-brains." I sighed, straightening my back to greet her. "Well, well, well. So the rumors are true. Please tell me they had to drag you kicking and screaming to get you to this nothing backwoods." I drawled, lip curled as I took in the dim landscape. Reia looks like a wildfire waiting to happen here, the spark that would burn the whole forest to the ground if she decided to.
A derisive snort bursts from me at her accusation. "Such a high opinion of yourself. No, I was just curious. Why should the Loessian princess find herself very suddenly not in Loess?" I crushed a fallen pinecone gingerly under one hoof. "Finding out seemed as good a way to waste the morning as any." The scents clinging to the milk pale mare are chaotic, an incomplete blend of the two lands in question. Other horses, other places, they all radiate from her in a hard to read muddle.
My wings rustle absently, a sound made oddly loud by the muffling trees and thick carpet of shed needles underfoot. She was doing her predatory dance again, hungry eyes and moistened teeth. A wry grin of my own was the only reply. So maybe hunting here wasn't so good after all, poor dragonette.
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
It’s fascinating how the feed from one another, taking sick amusement out of their cold banter. Curling her lip in a primal snarl, Reia regards Rebelle with only mild distaste. A vibrant blue, Reia’s eyes flash. ”At least I have brains,” she quips as her mane blazes and crackles. A sneer threatens to wrinkle the corners of her mouth, but it diminishes with her next breath, drowning the amusement with agitation. ”I came here with my husband, not that you know what it’s like to have one,” a cold accusation and yet the statement triggers an unsolicited, smug grin. It somehow softens the sharp lines of Reia’s face and, for the briefest of moments, portrays what fierce beauty lies within her.
The moment comes and goes as quickly as she draws in another breath, easing the flare of her tail as it sweeps idly from one side to another.
In truth, her relationship with Pteron is anything but beautiful or tranquil. It’s as tumultuous and precarious as her own feral nature. There are snippets of adoration, but a greater bit of her energy invests in putting him in his place when he acts out or doesn’t embrace her as he should. A poor husband, she often complains of, because he is so aloof and so deceitful. To appease their parents, Reia decided to nest in the Taigan forest for him; she left her nomadic lifestyle for him, but he is ungrateful. His punishment lies in his puckered scars and fresh burns along his skin. No matter the weight of her warnings, he does the opposite and disregards her. A poor husband, indeed.
But Rebelle doesn’t know this, nor does she need to.
The privacy of her relations with Pteron are tucked deep in the corridors of her mind, away from prying eyes and ears.
Straightening herself and subduing the rage of her fire, Reia unyieldingly stares at Rebelle. How funny, she muses, for fire and water to come together like this with their words hissing like steam between them. ”If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re stalking me,” it would be the first time someone was fascinated with Reia. Most are intelligent enough to keep their distance, but what can she expect from a fish?
I answer the snarl on Reia's face with a teeth-baring grin of my own. It's a far more threatening expression than I should feel confident in making. There has been no indication yet that the saliva coating my teeth is anything but harmless moisture, have not had the chance to test the toxin I now carry. Still, the look is as natural on my face as dew on grass.
My glass-sharp laugh cuts the air at her words. They're as biting as my own, and I like her for that. No kid skin gloves when we speak, no. This is not a relationship where feelings are spared. The honesty of hardship is the best kind of truth, one I think we both learned early, and it's one we speak fluently. "Couldn't prove it by what I see here." I snip, teeth flashing again in the half light.
"You're right, I have yet to find a stallion up to the job. I'm amazed you have. Is he worthy of the attention? Or did you just go in the other direction and go for someone utterly lacking spine?" I asked, wondering if that would be more her style. Marry for the land, as long as he was smart enough to look the other way when she wanted something a little more interesting. Not a terrible plan, all things considered. Maybe this gig wasn't as brain dead as it looked from the outside. Interestingly though, as quick as the winged woman is to defend her new situation, her hackles seemed to rise just as fast. Trouble in paradise? It's a brief moment, and I could very well be imagining things, but I tucked the idea away for later investigation.
I blink coolly instead, meeting the defiant weight of her reptilian gaze with my own placid look. She doesn't scare me. The sharp tongue and jagged expressions are nothing new, and I can match her look for look. My own smile grows at her return to the earlier accusation, finely scaled nose wrinkled in amusement. "You really are full of yourself, aren't you?" I jab, blue eyes glittering.
My smirk is full of satisfaction when I take another step closer, pushing close enough to feel the heat radiating from her flames, the light playing rainbows on my scales. "Anyway, what would you do if I were stalking you?" I can smell her now, the thick sharpness of pine beginning to mingle with her native cinder and smoke. My head quirks to one side like a curious bird's with the blue-glossed woman clearly in my sight.
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
Somehow, it’s enthralling how they insult each other, snidely feeding off each other. Their eyes narrow again, followed by more snarls. It’s a vicious although amusing cycle that continue as Reia’s mane hisses, seething with her mood. ”You wouldn’t know intelligence if it bit you on the face,” accented with the lift of her chin, the draconic mare scoffs and glances away as though her time is far too precious to spare on the fish. This is her home, so it would be easy enough to slip away and lose herself in the foliage. Adarra is not far either, and they would reunite to sink their nails deeper into Pteron. A good plan, she malicious schemes, and yet her attention continues returning to Rebelle.
The bounce off each other without an end in sight. It takes a great amount of focus to not ruffle her wings, refusing to give any satisfying reactions. As true as Rebelle’s statement may be – for her husband does indeed lack spine unless she antagonizes him – Reia refuses to provide any information into the intimate secrets of her life. Rather than confess the ugly details and daily struggles, a lie instead flirts with the edges of her lips as they curl into a smug grin. ”He pursued me. Anyone that wants to love me of course needs to be fierce,” somehow, she is convincing as the words tumble effortlessly into the space between them. Her eyes pierce Rebelle’s, scrutinizing every detail, every scale, until their eyes once more meet. Crinkling her nose, she adds, ”Maybe someday someone will get over your fishy smell and want you.” Admittedly, Rebelle likely has a better personality.
But, naturally, Reia doesn’t admit such things. Her compliments are rare, mythical things, especially when faced with someone from the opposing element. Water and fire. They could either burn or drown the other, a battle of sheer stubbornness and pride. For that reason, Reia refuses to be near a shoreline. She would rather be here, on the verge of burning down the forest, than visit an island or swim in a lake. Call it fear, if you must, but she calls it smart.
Groaning, Reia glances toward the groping tree branches surrounding them, measuring a response with fleeting effort before she turns on her companion – if she should call her that – and sharply grinning. ”Just a bit, but aren’t we all a tad arrogant?” Life is battle of strength, wit, and power. Their purpose is to snub each other, to proclaim the greater influencer or greater warrior. Life is a competition, which is why Reia doesn’t stand down when her personal space is tossed to the wind. Their noses nearly touch, their body heats mingling. Sweeping her tail and hissing the fire, Reia snaps her head forward, snake-like, to nip at Rebelle’s muzzle. She doesn’t stumble away afterward. Her body hardly moves even after, not caring what the retaliation will be as her crest blazes more to life. ”I’m sure you wouldn’t taste much different from a barbequed trout.”
Is it wrong? The feeling of eager hunger I feel when we try to break each other down. Two hungry girls, ready to devour the world, ready to devour anything and anyone that gets in the way. It feels like the sharpening of a blade, whetted on the stone of each other's temper, the sharpness of our tongues ever finer as time goes on. We know deep down what we are doing, and that if we can cut each other, then those who with thinner armor will be eviscerated.
It's almost as good as blood on my teeth, these words.
I smile lazily at her snide remark. I don't think there's a soul I've met yet who's accused me of being smart, and I'd like to keep it that way. Why be smart when I can be vicious? No one cares if you're intelligent when you've got them pinned between life and death. I can see for one spilt second that she's considering being done. But what else is there for her to do in these dreary woods? Nothing half so entertaining as this.
There's an added purr to her voice when she speaks of her husband. The cat that caught the canary, so to speak. My eyes roll with sarcastic disbelief. "The huntress must be hunted, of course. It's only right. I just have trouble believing anyone would go to the trouble of trying to love someone so... very... unlovable." There are times where the best weapon is the truth, and I use it now. Reia was not a creature designed to be loved. Feared, certainly, worshipped, perhaps. But love? "You wouldn't know what to do with love if it bit you on the face."
Fine scales, so similar to the ones that flow along the lines of my own body, embrace her just the same. She glitters in her own light, and I know that the armor is more than skin deep. She is fire and flame, destroyer and conquerer. As opposite as our elements appear, our purposes lay so closely alongside one another.
I share a grin of my own at her response, as close to pleasant as we'd been all along. A slight nod of agreement even tilted my head. "Can't expect anyone else to know your worth if you don't know it first." On this we may see eye to eye.
Pushing against the wall of heat that seems to blanket the pale mare, I see the strike coming too late. It is not a hard bite, the edges of her teeth only briefly meeting the thin skin of my nose. Still, it stings, and I am surprised and keenly alert. The words have barely left her tongue before my own teeth snap at the milky skin of her cheek. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a taste for fish."
no one really knows what the ocean hides but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
Reia breaks.
Every scowl and snarl unravels, coming undone in one swift motion that berths an unexpected bout of laughter. It’s a hoarse, rumbling noise at first that steepens into a lighter teasing image of joy and humor until she quiets herself. How long, she wonders, since she last genuinely smiled or laughed? A pang in her heart pushes her to believe that it has been years, but she doesn’t admit this to Rebelle, not when their tumultuous relationship balances on snide remarks and hostility.
”You know, you may be right,” she confesses earnestly as a shrug ripples through her lean shoulders. ”Unlovable to most, probably, but I’m not…” she trails off in a contemplative pause before flashing her eyes back to Rebelle, ”… traditional.” Of course, that has already been established by her mannerisms alone. She does not bend to the whims of kingdom politics or whims, just like she does not precisely fit within the confining walls of wifely duties. Compassion is fleeting, her affection displayed with nips and rough housing. Above all, Reia’s mindset is predatory, but she claimed prey as her husband.
A fool she is, but it’s too late now.
Much like it is to elude the clap of Rebelle’s teeth.
Reia doesn’t flinch as the aquatic girl snaps at her cheek, her teeth scraping against hardened scales. A derisive snort expels a rippling tendril of smoke, loathing their physical closeness in that one moment, but the distaste disintegrates as quickly as the exhaust above her head. Eerily still, Reia almost considers retaliating, taking out her aggression on Rebelle, but how obvious would her unhappiness be if she acted out? Swallowing, she measures the weight of her response, her tail hissing as she sweeps it idly from side to side.
Just when it seems as though she will ignore the question, she simply states, ”It depends on my mood,” why is this suddenly so thrilling and their conversation sinking deeper than facetious insults, ”and how much of a fighter the fish is.”
Her laughter is a rusted thing. It's easy to imagine that it is a sound she's never made before, as roughly as it trickles out. Another one of the snarls that she dispenses with such ease. Only when the sound pushes past its unfamiliar walls and lifts in genuine humor can I say with any certainty that she is, in fact, laughing.
I do not join her mirth, a careless half-smile my only response as she quiets herself. She's pretty when she smiles. Her confession is quick and to the point, and I'm curious as to why it took so long for her to realize these things. My brilliant blue eyes roll skyward. "Of course I'm right. Anyway, tradition is for the dogs. It's just pressure from a bunch of dead ancestors to keep you in line." I groused, knowing no one in their right mind would call me traditional either. Terrorist, maybe.
She's getting maudlin, I can see it in her eyes. And it's a relief when my snapping teeth bring back the gleam of dragon fire in her countenance. Still, she's measured and controlled, ever the patient predator waiting for her chance. Not like I was going to do much damage anyway. We may both be covered in scales, but hers are unyielding to my teeth. A disappointment.
She's quiet and I'm getting bored again. I did what I came here to do, the smoky girl is in one piece and seems to be okay with it. My jab of a question, designed only as another shove, seems to have been taken seriously. My own gold-plated tail fin sweeps the air in time with hers. I'm uncomfortable with the sudden change in mood between us.
Her answer is nothing like what I would have expected. It's almost sincere. I'm not good at sincere. Not if it comes without another biting edge. I could be scathing here, put us back on the fighting ground we know. Instead, I look away, mouth set in a grim line. "Lucky you, fighting is damn near all I know. Love makes you weak, so I've never bothered with it." Just look at my mother, if you doubt me.
Ears tipped back in warning, I will not be messed with on this, I looked back to her, impassive and cool. "Well, on the off chance you're in the mood right now, can we just skip past the touchy-feely bit and jump into like, I dunno, a tour or something? This conversation is getting a little sentimental for me." I tilted my head, a smile breaking onto my lips at last.
