"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
In the end, all that had really mattered was her ability to survive.
Mako’s sense of otherness alienated her from even her siblings. She felt especially scorned by her family, a withered scar she wears proudly upon her chest. I’m fine, she had told herself when it (that cold, biting wind of loneliness) first started. Mako was barely old enough to understand the way she froze even when the sun beat lovingly down on her, but it covered her child’s heart with vines of poison ivy.
No matter how many times she scratched that itch with words of affirmation, it never subsided.
She had turned into a beautiful thing, little Mako. From long, pale, spindly legs into a swirl of silver and blue. She wears her mother’s colors like a crown, the proud visage of the blood of dragons. Mother’s dead, she spits at herself when her ego grows too overblown.
And no crown, no kiss, no embrace of family will change that.
Castile wasn’t a bad caretaker, and Loess wasn’t a bad home. In fact, Mako felt the most comfortable there, for chaos and ambition suits her. Castile taught her enough of the dragon scales glittering on her skin, taught her enough of power and drive. They had mourned together: Castile, the death of a daughter—and Mako, the death of a mother. Instead of bringing Mako closer into her family, it brought her farther—this grief she thinks is so much more special, so much more intense than the rest of them.
And so she wanders now, a glittering beast amongst the vibrant splashes of wildflowers. Her head tilts higher and higher and higher, until her chin can no longer move and her eyes are blinded by what is left of golden sun. Thunder cracks in the storm clouds racing to cover the warmth that will never keep her close, and Mako rolls her shoulders to settle into what will surely be a cleansing storm.
The signs of a storm draw Garett out of the forest and into the meadow. Although there is a thrum of fear that courses through his body, it’s at war with his curiosity. The booming thunder of the warm-weather storms are so at odds with his usual peaceful life that they have a tendency to spook him, to cause his kind heart to race. So he usually shelters when they roll around, finding whatever comforts he could.
Today feels different, so he emerges from the woods - bright eyes almost instantly noting a blue girl about his age standing on her own. Suddenly, the storm moves to the back of his mind. He approaches cautiously, equally out of his own uncertainty as his desire not to spook her. Could he spook her? His experiences with interacting with those who aren’t his family are limited, more often the green-pointed boy finds his company in the plants or his twin brother.
But in the face of the oncoming storm, something draws him to this winter-touched stranger. The grass shifts where he walks, the soft blades pulled towards him as if by a magnet and brushing against his skin. Bright green eyes moving from the dark clouds stretching across the sky and then back down to the one he comes to stand near. There’s just a little too much distance between them than might be normal and while his mind frets over this - debating whether he should shift a little closer or if this is fine - he practically blurts out something else, anything else, by way of greeting. “Do you like storms?”
The water sings to Mako like the fire sings to most of her family. The frost she wears upon her hide is prideful and glittering, the mark of the enemy amongst a dragon’s den. Mako would be lying to herself if she thought she didn’t grow up incredibly proud of her supposed infiltration (and she would be lying to herself if she thought her affinities didn’t alienate her).
Like a queen to a people that didn’t accept her, Mako spent her life peering down disdainfully at fire and brimstone.
So when the rain calls, wistful in song but vengeful in grip, Mako turns an open face to the tears she knows the sky sheds just for her. The sound of her frost hissing beneath a pelting thunderstorm makes her heart race. Sometimes, when her mind has gone just quiet enough, she can convince herself it hurts to lose her frost—as if it is as much a part of her as her skin and bone.
Perhaps this is why Mako is not particularly disgruntled when Garett disturbs her meditated waiting. He is green and brown, like an elegant and smooth sapling—so vastly other to the chaotic heat in Loess.
“I love any kind of rain but, yes, I especially love storms.” Mako’s voice does not express the pleasant surprise she feels at being asked such a question, nor does it reveal how much she admires his shadowy brown and foliage green. Those glances to study his colors, fleeting and near-nervous, are quietly hidden by the unphased way Mako carries herself. She is almost robotic, the melodies of her voice covered by a practiced rise and fall.
Fat, heavy droplets begin to plop here and there, occasionally slapping hard against Mako’s scales.
“Do you?” she asks Garett, then flicks her eyes to the gray sky. “I think it’s a little too late, if you don’t.” A tease, but one that falls short on its delivery.
Garett might be a little disappointed by the lack of further explanation, or the lack of poetic words, but he doesn’t let it show - and it certainly does not last for long. He’s growing more curious about this girl instead, the simple matter-of-fact way that she speaks. It would be easy to believe that everyone loved rain and storms - Garett could almost convince himself that he did as well, if it wasn’t for the nervous way his heart was already beginning to race as the rumbling clouds drew closer.
He had seen what lightning could do to a tree, splitting it in half and scorching the earth around it, and it takes little imagination to picture what such a magnificent force of nature could do to one small boy. The grass continues to bend towards him, caressing and swirling around his legs as though he could root himself in place and somehow be safe if only he had the plants there.
But grass cannot stop a storm.
When the question is returned, a soft smile appears in his green eyes as his gaze finally shifts away from her and to the sky. The rain drops begin to pick up their tempo - splashing on his face that he tilts just slightly upwards. He can feel his heart rate increase with the rain, and fears she might be able to hear it. Hear the terror within him. He does not move, though, and when he replies he speaks without even considering anything other than total honesty.
“Oh,” is all Mako can initially muster. Afraid of storms? she thinks, suddenly feeling as if she is responsible for placing him beneath the thunder. Her eyes flit slowly to the bulging clouds and then back down to Garett’s unwavering green gaze. The rain continues to fall, slowly picking up its pace as if to build to something huge. Mako quickly comes to a decision.
“We should get you out of here, then,” she calls over the noise.
The edge of the Meadow and the Forest isn’t too far off, and if they run fast enough, they should be able to find cover beneath the canopy before the downpour is blinding. “Let’s get beneath the trees!” she calls while turning, hoping the sight of her galloping through the wavering grass will spur him into action.
A strike of lightning crosses the sky, illuminating everything in such sharp silver that Mako thinks she cut herself. For a moment, she forgets about her frightened companion, exhilaration and wonder giving her tunnel vision. Alive, so alive! She feels so alive and it takes the last shred of herself to remain on course to the trees.
Clap. And then a flash.
Mako comes to a reckless halt beneath the canopy. Damp leaves squelch beneath her back hooves when she pivots to look for Garett, eyes wild enough to rival the lightning above. Suddenly, she grows hot and embarrassed, taking a step back and tucking her chin close to her chest.
He doesn’t know why, but he wouldn’t have moved if she had not first. Garett’s entire body was screaming at him to flee, to get away from the thing that scared him most in this world (which was perhaps a testament to how sheltered his life had been). But it was a new sort of thrilling to stand with someone who loved what he feared.
His legs were starting to tremble just slightly when the periwinkle girl turns and runs for the trees. For a moment he continues to stare up at the clouds but then he blinks and realizes what’s happening. It had not occurred to him that admitting his fear would have this reaction.
The first strike of lightning causes white to rim his eyes and then he finally moves - galloping after her and into the safety of the trees. He’s focused entirely on the destination as he tries not to think about how his heart feels as though it will burst in his chest out of fear. The trees seem to stretch out towards him, encouraging him forward.
The BOOM of the thunder causes him to falter in his steps and he stumbles more than steps into the forest. He sees her wild eyes and knows his are similar as he sucks in deep breaths - not thinking to be embarrassed by the rather dramatic effect the storm is having on him. He closes those bright green eyes for a moment and inhales the rich scent of the damp foliage to ground himself.
When he opens them again to look at her as she apologizes, they are less wild and shine with a smile. “That’s okay.” He says with a smile, tilting his head a little to the side and feeling remnants of rain waters slide down his face. He was the one who had been standing out there, after all. “It’s good to face your fears, right?” His heart would say differently - it was still thundering in his chest and had yet to calm down, though he felt relief. He resists the urge to shift the canopy above them to block out all the rain - remembering how just a few moments ago she had stated that she loved the rain.
And he did not have the heart to remove her entirely from it.
“I’m Garett, it’s nice to meet you Mako.” The downpour on the trees above them is soothing - until another rumble of too-close thunder makes it feel as though the earth is shaking.
Or perhaps that’s just him.
But his voice is at least still enough when he asks curiously “Do you… do you mind if I ask what you love about storms?”
Mako is embarassed because even her family does not know of her love of storms. The way thunder thrums like wardrums when she runs. The way lightning strikes to light her way. The way rain falls to wash her clean of all shame, all displacement. Oh! How it makes her feel alive, aflush, anew. She burns bright red, like her family's fire, somehow not muted by the shadows of gray clouds.
The shame slowly melts, like the occassionally hissing frost on her hide, as the scaled girl realizes how terrified Garett is. "Yes," she answers with a shy smile, thinking she knows nothing of facing her fears. She can't return to where her mother's body rests, for instance. She can't bear searching for her father. Such an innocent question, so capable of lodging a lump in Mako's throat, keeps her from saying more.
Instead of returning the nicety, the girl stretches forward to brush noses with Garett. She thinks it easy to meet him so instinctually, with his nonjudgmental eyes and forgiving voice.
A grin so bright it nearly glows lifts Mako's lips when the earthy boy speaks again. "Oh, wow," she says, subconsciously lifting her eyes to the trees in thought. "They feel as wild as I do. It's almost as if they are expressing something I don't know how to." She doesn't mention that they are the opposite of draconic home, mostly cool and soothing and fresh.
"Why don't you like them?" she asks, nearly whispering. A desire to reach forward and barely brush her mouth against his pulse suddenly makes her heart race - she wonders if feeling his heartrate will help her better understand, like the way rain feels in her mane just feels right.
Her touch - fleeting as it is - grounds him and calms his heart. He misses it when it goes, but does not have the courage to do more than continue to stand beside her.
Garett’s gentle green eyes don’t leave her for a moment, captivated by the way she looks as she thinks and smiles when she speaks about the storms. From her lips, they don’t seem so frightening (even as he flinches slightly at the flash of another lightning strike, the thunder rumbling not far behind). Wild is a term that suits her well - he used to think it applied to his home, the forest and the fields where plants grew, but Mako is another type of wild entirely.
She’s redefined the word for him.
“I like that.” He whispers when she is done, though she hardly needs his approval.
When the question is returned he looks forward to where he can barely see the rain it falls so thick and heavy, thundering louder than any stampede. “I guess…” He searches his mind for the right words as his eyes drift back to the wild mare beside him. “They make me feel like I am a mouse just before the strike of an owl. Like everything I love, everything I am, could be gone in a flash of light and fire.”
After the words are out, he ducks his head a little bit - embarrassed and his gaze shifts away from her, wondering if she might think less of him for now how not wild he is. “Does that sound silly?”
Mako's heart thrums wildly beneath the captivated attention of Garett. She matches his vivid green gaze with her pale one, cheeks flushing hot as she realizes just how seen he is making her feel. Her family always paid attention but - she is one of three triplets, and their wildness always outmatched hers. Her wildness never seemed to fit in and even as the plant manipulator is frightened of the only thing that matches her ferocity, she feels he accepts it so much more.
As flustered as Mako is by Garett's attention, she doesn't miss his flinch. She wants to draw next to him, to brush her scales against his fur in the hopes that it will comfort him (and perhaps touching her, the embodiment of a storm, will help him understand them better); but she doesn't, not now. Instead she feels the blood rush to her face once again when he whispers he likes her explanation.
"No!" the scaled mare practically gasps, eyes going wide. "No, not at all," this time murmuring. Her heart continues to beat wildly, but it's no longer in time with the thunder.
No, Mako is gently nurturing a crush. She wants to press her ear to Garett's chest and match her breathing to his. To know what it's like to be so soft, so welcoming. To know what it's like to look at her wildness and not fear or misunderstand her.
"I -" she starts, attempting to explain something, maybe the way she can't seem to look him in the eye anymore; but instead that unruly nature of hers overcomes once again and she leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Garett's cheek. "I don't think you're silly," Mako whispers, leaning back and smiling shyly.
"Do you want to get out of the rain? I . . . want to talk more but I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
When she touches his cheek, he can feel the warmth spread like a wildfire across his skin. Or maybe it’s more like lightning in slow motion, the electric pathway tracing from his cheek and to his heart. Either way, he does not fear the destruction left behind by either of those metaphors but insteads welcomes the flush he can feel from the combination of both her words and her touch.
Garett would stand anywhere if it was with Mako - even if it was in the middle of a storm - but her offer to move is a kind one that he won’t snub by turning down. He is far too drunk on the feel of her gentle touch onto his cheek still, but he manages to mumble out a dreamy sounding “Sure.” before he realizes how silly he sounds and he coughs a little to clear his throat (but he is still smiling as he continues). “Sure. Let’s go a little further into the forest.”
He moves to turn around and waits for her to join him.
When she does, he’ll lead her deeper into the forest - turning his head often. Not because he expects her to go, but because he likes the feel of the smile that lights up his own gentle green eyes whenever they see her. Likes the echoes of that lightning touch that tickle where she had touched his cheek.
They go deep into the woods where the air is rich with moss and earth and there, on soft ground, does Garett stop. He looks up to where he can hear the thrum of the roaring rain on the leaves but few droplets make it all the way to the ground here and instead of frightening, the sound is soothing.
Or, at least it is for him. He turns to Mako and steps a little closer to her, itching to touch her, but instead asks with a sudden flare of doubt - “What do you think?” as he gestures to the protected spot. Immediately he's wishing he had come up with something more interesting to say but, at least, that question had a purpose. If she didn't like it, after all, he would search and search and search until they found somewhere they could both be comfortable. For leaving the storm she loved so much for him, it was the least he could do.
