"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She does not respond to his musing about parents, her midnight gaze on him but unfocused, lost in her own thoughts as (though she does not know this) he is lost in his. Agetta loved being a mother, had adopted almost just as many foals as she had physically birthed, but that did not mean she was always good at it. Were they better off without her?
If she had her memories of Anaxarete, she would agree with him without question. So many of her babies had burned because of that mare, because of Agetta and even because of Atrox - since it was through his association that Agetta had even stumbled across the shadow mare.
She refocuses when he speaks again, a sharpness in him that wasn’t there a moment ago. It’s a cruel taunt, to be sure, but does not earn him a flinch from her - just a sad smile. His words, venomous and harsh, are only echoes compared to the wickedness of her own thoughts over the last century. It is difficult to bruise an ego that barely exists in the first place.
These words do not cause a rush of hatred or fire within her (none more than the steady beat of hatred being in his presence causes). The somber feeling does not leave her, there is barely even a bite to her voice when she replies. “It has never mattered to me whether I was remembered.” Which is, at least, only half a lie. It would have soothed her better if she had been, and perhaps it had bothered her for a time, but now those feelings are distant. The world moves on quick - she had been a ghost even back in the days after their battle. A remnant of the history the Gates had moved on from. The world might not remember her name, but at least one old friend had recognized her when she returned and that had been enough.
And now, she has made new friends, she will be starting a new stage in her family, and she has the love of her life back. Returning to Beqanna had been difficult, but it has blessed her and made her feel like finally, finally, she had made the right decision.
As for being a ghost… she does not respond specifically. He deserves no answer, and she doubt he is interested to hear that she is less one than she was a year ago. That she is growing more solid, more alive, with each night that passes.
But she does return the question of sorts, a spark of curiosity in the way her attention focuses on him. They may be something close to enemies, but he is as much from the Old World as she is (just a younger generation). Surely this prick of a stallion hasn’t had a significantly easier time adjusting than she has. Or does the depth of his depravity extend so far that he has formed no bonds, so he can pass between times without a care?
Did he go into the afterlife that day on the beach and find no soul there to guide him?
As much as she loathes him, she finds this hard to believe. Everyone else she has met from before had seemed to feel similar to the way she did. Like her, Atrox had once given everything he had to a kingdom that now many don't even know the name of, never mind the history of, and she cannot comprehend the idea of living through that change completely unscathed.
“And you, Atrox? Have you never feel like a ghost in this new world?” Saying his name makes her skin crawl, though she does her best to hide the discomfort behind the curiosity as she watches him across the distance between them.
