if you do not have shadows,
you are not in the light
She remains in the shadows for a while to observe.
Amber eyes settle on Aten and his noble stance. She envies the way he holds himself, even in what some would compare to utter chaos; comparable to Fiorina even, without the hostile aura and blatant thirst for blood.
Pteron is soon to follow, his vibrant blue mane hardly lifting with the subtle breeze that the open meadow offers. He is quiet, and advertent without seemingly interested or intrigued. He has written off Taiga in the same way Ruthless has written off hope, and it reminds her of Larva that day.
His realization obvious that evening after tentacles had flared and Wolfbane had become unpredictably ugly. She had never witnessed such a horrifying reality before, not till that moment.
Now it seems she continues to relive that feeling.
Lilliana is also (unsurprisingly) early to arrive to the call, her warm chestnut glow warming even the coldness of Ruth’s heart that had started to set in. Our golden lioness—even at the remembrance of that same warm, copper coat settling into Wolfbane’s side with ease and comfort—couldn’t stay bitter at the same mare that opened her heart when Brine had closed it.
No matter how confusing and complicated it got.
Another mare aligns with Aten and Ruthless’ curiosity peaks at the new face, her warm chocolate coat similar to the ebony bark that Brine would seek out on suffocating hot summer days. The ebony bark that grows deep in the forest sees the least amount of sun, it’s sometimes still moist from dew. Lean up against it, Ruth. Feel that?
Feel refreshed?
She would feel refreshed, leaning against the cool bark. She would smell the fresh scent of nature and hear the soft call of birds closer to the field. For a while it felt like a world only they existed in. As if all these other horses hadn’t been fighting these battles and fearing these monsters.
It makes her kind of angry to know they could have been making a difference all along, but all Brine knew to teach her was about the ebony bark and it’s temperature.
So Aten is now leader? She isn't surprised, knowing the sad and distant expression Pteron had worn since she met him. There was an ominous air about him that foggy day, and his consistent talent in thinking before acting had left a lasting impression on her.
They continue to go back and forth, unaware of the light breeze that wafts their words into her ears to let them sit and stir in the pit of her stomach. We don’t have the numbers, we aren’t prepared, dragons, magicians...
Fine, but what can we do knowing all of this?
Lay here?
Fight?
Waltz knowingly into Wolfbanes arms and just give in to his tantrum?
She walks slowly at first, emerging from the protection of the redwoods and silently praying Kalil is just beyond her sight. Maybe he has been hidden by the withers of another, taller equine. Or, perhaps Aten has him doing something else entirely.
It dawns on her she hasn’t spoken to her ocean-crush since their frolic in the bay. He had captured her there, with his care and concern. She had fallen into the net he had laid out so carefully for her, as if waiting for her to give into his kindness and soft words.
And she did. She hasn’t left the net since.
He isn’t here, and part of her feels almost relieved. If he was here, and Lilliana spoke about the field episode, then he might be upset he hadn’t heard it from her. And she wants it to come from her.
“Nerine has warriors,” she offers, arriving next to Lilliana but not daring to look at her, “I want to learn. I want to fight. I want to teach others how to do the same.” A voice so strong and stark, it almost sounds fake in comparison to the youthful yearling Aten had meant only a year or two ago. But, it’s there with all its genuineness and honesty.
Part of her hope it hits Lilliana like a kick—to know that the sun-child had been forced to grow a lot since that day in the field. Another part of her hopes that Lilliana understands that Ruthless doesn’t blame her for what transpired, she just wants to protect her.
This little warrior is just tired of forced compliancy.
“We aren’t prepared, but they haven’t attacked yet. We have time to prepare as best we can,” she flickers to Aten, hesitant to overstep her boundaries but frustrated to know that this may be just another thing to surrender to.
And she isn’t ready for a third round of hopelessness.
Ruthless
Hope it's alright I pop in (sorry I am late)! @[lilliana]