"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
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
They fly side by side in silence, save for the occasional flap of leathery wings. Word travels fast and they’re eager to see the new leader of the west. Yadigar had been to the jungle kingdom once before their war, but he looks forward to seeing it now without much of an agenda. He turns his spined head to look at Sepulcher now as they pass over Loess.
“When we arrive, we will not harm them. They are friends to us as Gospel and the Cove are,” he explains. The younger brother answers with a snapping of his strange jaws and a quiet grumbling in his chest. He imagines Cher wanted to hunt somewhere new, but it can’t be helped. These are not their hunting grounds to harvest.
The draconic brothers land just outside the Tephran borders and the elder takes the lead. He keeps his wings tucked to his sides as he ducks under lower hanging branches or leaps across the cool streams that zigzag over long-cooled lava flows. His spiked tail sways back and forth contently while Sepulcher keeps his ears perked. There are countless new noises for him to learn here and he finds himself pleased that there is something to be gained for his journey here.
They come to a stop near the base of the volcano. The heat reminds them of home and they each draw comfort from the dry air here. Yadigar lifts his head and gives a short series of clicks and croons, then he shifts his great weight and looks to his younger brother. The blind duo share a few quiet trills between each other, agreeing that they like it here so far, and then they settle to a comfortable silence once more.
11-20-2020, 08:20 PM (This post was last modified: 11-20-2020, 08:20 PM by Warden.)
resurrect the saint within the wretch
Though he is the Watcher, he does not see the brothers coming. His ability only shows him destruction and ruin, not the arrival of two reptilian stallions.
The horned pegasus had been out at sea, returning from a flight out towards Islandres and Ischia, when the deep blue of his eyes capture their shapes across the horizon. They came from the east, as many do, and there is a visible sharpness that comes to his pale expression. Either word travels exceptionally fast within Beqanna or perhaps these visitors could see into the future as he does. With a toss of his head and barely a movement from his outspread wings, he pivots through the smoky Tephran air to meet them where they land.
The duo are only given a few moments alone before the overo stallion lands solidly before them at the base of the volcano. The great white of his wings flap once and then twice, ensuring his balance as well as to settle any of the feathers that had come out of place in his landing before they fold casually into his sides. The two were creatures that Warden has never seen the likes of (he doesn’t mean to avoid the milky white eye, but it reminds him too much of his own), but it does not keep him from venturing closer. Warden takes a few good strides towards them, the glittering navy of his jeweled chest sparkling with the movement of his sure steps.
“Welcome,” he tells them, his voice sincere in the greeting but there is a question that lingers within it. He halts, turning his horned head towards the darker stallion and lingering on him thoughtfully before the cat-like sweeping of the other’s spiked tail draws his attention back again. “I can only assume you both are not here merely for a visit.” There is a hint of a smile on his pale lips - maybe - but it quickly diminishes into the same neutral face they had first been greeted with.
“I’m Warden, the King.” The words felt unfamiliar on his lips and almost even misplaced, but he does not let that uncertainty show on the hard planes of his ivory face.
11-29-2020, 06:10 PM (This post was last modified: 11-29-2020, 06:11 PM by yadigar.)
YADIGAR
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
The two turn their heads to study the outline of his warmth when he lands before them. There is a dull clack as Sepulcher snaps his teeth together at the scent of feathers, but he remains obediently beside his brother. Their blind gazes see nothing of his jewel-encrusted skin or the shimmer of his hooves as he draws closer. They see only antlers and wings, coupled with the usual temperature of their kind.
Yadigar steps forward and his talons scrape the hardened lava flows. Fortunately, he does not realize Warden’s gaze is drawn to the lethal shape of his tail. “I am Yadigar, of the eastern region. This is my brother, Sepulcher,” he explains with a polite nod of his head before gesturing to the kindred monster beside him. The younger beast does his best to smile in a way that does not split the five portions of his face open.
“In the past, Pangea and its territories maintained an alliance with Tephra. This is why your region alone was spared in our conquests,” he explains, trying his best to force some semblance of warmth into his voice. “My father named Breach queen in Hyaline prior to his demise, but we would like to continue our allegiance to the west regardless of your succession or hers.”
He pauses, then, and examines Warden’s face for any change of expression.
“We could, perhaps, extend this promise of protection to your territories, if you think them worthy,” he says with a tilt of his head. Yadigar had never considered laying waste to Ischia or Islandres, but he had also never felt inclined to worry for their safety as he did for Tephra. It would make sense, however, for the whole of their respective regions to be included.
The East. The pegasus snorts softly, a general reaction, but finds himself inspecting the duo before him with a slightly keener eye than before. It is not lost on him what the East is capable of - he has seen the dragon fire before it had left its master’s mouth and burned the North into the brittle bone and weeping ash that it is still healing from. “Yadigar, Sepulcher.” Warden’s horned head dips subtly with each of their names on his pale lips, the deep obsidian of their color sparkling in the warm sun with the movement. The overo stallion’s gaze is both thoughtful and somewhat curious (though also mindful of his lingering) as the deep stormy blue of his eyes passes over them.
He has done well to hide his expression for most of his life - Warden’s face rarely breaks and it is a rare sight when it does. He offers smiles, of course, and the occasional chuckle will warm the depths of his chest, but the majority of his time is spent in the depths of his mind, moving from the future and back into the present - a fluid thing that leaves him drained and feeling heavy, laden with knowledge that nothing he can do will change. So when Yadigar mentions conquests, he is not aware of the rareness of watching the stoicism of Warden’s pale face crease with a gentle frown.
The Watcher shifts his weight slightly, flexing his wings reflexively.
“I see no reason to break an alliance that has protected Tephra, thankfully.” Warden’s eyes are sharp, wondering if they will sense the frigidity beneath. It is perhaps something he cannot hide from the dragon-borne, anyway. The Tephran does not approve of their conquests - or so it has been deemed - but, as he has learned from his premonitions, nothing can change the future. The East wants what the East wants and if he can keep his home and the surrounding territories of the West safe, there is no room for him to place honor above their safety. Not yet, anyway.
When Warden’s head raises slightly, the jewels of his neck and chest glitter brilliantly as the sun catches each fractile in its light. Ischia and Islandres are filled with many extended families, as well as being easily accessed by all in Tephra who can make the swim or take to the skies - whether they were worthy, Warden could not possibly know, but they are in his stead either way. “The Islands are an extension of Tephra; I would imagine the allegiance would extend there just as it has in the past. I will inform them that all of the East is to remain an ally.”
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
Sepulcher has grown accustomed to the flat tone of his brother’s voice. He knows that, somewhere in the blizzard of his core, Yadigar loves him very deeply. It is the sole reason he obeys his brother when he tells Cher to do things he otherwise would. This is why he remains relaxed as the talks go on with nothing that interests him. But then he sees his brother’s ears perk forward and he finds himself studying Warden’s face now. There is a faint frown that had not been there previously, but is it worth concerning himself with?
“Do you disapprove of our ways, Warden?” the elder dragon asks, his blind gaze unblinking as he faces the western king. “We don’t ask that you participate, of course. Only that you remain faithful in your allegiance.”
Sepulcher tilts his head and the petals of his face flex open nervously before closing once more. He is not gifted with words, but he feels he should be helping in some way. The younger monster shifts his weight uncomfortably and chitters softly to himself.
“Tell me your plans for Tephra and let us determine how the east can support those goals of yours,” Yadigar says with a glance toward his sibling. Unable to judge emotions any longer, he finds that his younger brother is an excellent gauge for how a conversation is going. Cher is rather sensitive to the moods of others despite his gruesome appearance. It makes him rather endearing, Gar thinks.
The pegasus’ dark blue eyes become sharp, his instincts heightened with the intensity of their stare that the two Eastern stallions bear down upon him. Warden returns his own thoughtful gaze, the muscle in his hardened jaw jumping beneath the pale ivory of his face.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but it would be a waste of time to pretend as if my approval or disapproval would change the past or make the East reconsider their ways.” Warden’s voice is smooth and without waver, but there is no malice or judgment in it - he speaks only the truth and leaves any emotion that could possibly accompany him elsewhere, far from this conversation where it has no place belonging. The overo stallion snorts softly, somewhat contemplatively.
“Tephra only wishes to be as it has in the past: a place of protection and a place of peace. If the East continues to come through our borders as friends, then you can expect the same.” The winged stallion shifts his weight, finding the unblinking gaze of Yadigar somehow more unbearable than the other, with the splitting skin across his face that flutters every so often. Perhaps it is because Yadigar’s out-of-focus glances remind him so much of his visions, the thought pricking his spine most unsettlingly.
Will Yadigar pry for more? Will he really believe that peace - and nothing more - is all Tephra sought? The Watcher is not interested in delving out anything more than he is given and though he is not a liar, Warden does not yet trust these two strangers as perhaps the previous leaders had. His ivory wings flutter, the scent of salt and smoke rising with their movement, wondering if the brothers also find it hard to trust him and, perhaps, they would all be better off for it.
He nearly gives them something - an offering, a sign of a truce - but the stallion finds that revealing his precognition might better be saved for another time and place. Instead, Warden rolls his shoulders slightly and gives the duo a break in the thin line of his lips, a half-quirked smile on his pale mouth. “Perhaps we will learn more about each other, in due time. Goals and dreams change.”
The future always comes, Warden reminds himself bitterly - to both the lamb and to the butcher, without regard for their roles in it.
