"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
Tiercel guesses that all things eventually return to the place of their origin. Salmon push against the current to reach their birthing pool, deer curl themselves in thickets deep within the woods, and even the birds send their final breaths across twigs like their first nest.
Like all these creatures and more, Tiercel finds himself at Loess’s western border. The place where he was born, where he grew up, where he was not-parented compared to his other siblings. This section of the border has always been his favorite. Hyaline’s mountain ranges melt into the red rock formations, creating a labyrinth of twisting paths carved from stone and sand. Not as many horses flock to the complicated trails, scared to get lost in the complicated pattern of trails and switchbacks. Yet Tiercel had taken comfort in this unique patchwork of Loess as a child. It took his siblings longer to find him when he hid here; despite his family’s winged capabilities, it was much harder to find a nimble little body from the sky when they were concealed among the rock formations.
His young mind had mapped out the trails, his older mind has remembered them, and Tiercel is pleased that there are minimal deviations from the original pathways. As he follows a steep incline that eventually gives way to a plateau of red rock, he notes the difference in greenery. Signs of plant life have begun to poke out of the soil in stable patches, yet their youth suggest that something had destroyed their ancestors in recent history.
Tiercel enjoys the way the hike burns at his muscles and he crests the top of the incline as the sound of a hawk cries above his head. The plateau stands a hundred feet above the path below. The path has been cut from the familiar shape of an ancient, dried creekbed that weaves its way between plateaus. Behind his navy shoulders, Tiercel can feel the looming gaze of Hyaline’s mountains. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he wraps himself in a feeling of comfort, relaxing into the memories of home.
Oceane has forsaken her canyon at the northern edge of Loess in exchange for the red rock formations along the Hyaline border that slowly bleed into the foothills she knows and loves. She has existed here tirelessly since Breach's departure and her own business at the Mountain, prepared for retaliation from the Eastern kingdom that will inevitably come.
A quiet yawn falls from the opaline woman's maw as she meanders through the pathways and towards the plateau. Her hooves echo quietly as they collide with the stone beneath her, but otherwise she remains silently lost in thought. There is much to do in the coming days - some of which she has shared with Soran in secret, but some she has kept to herself with the silent worry that voicing it will ruin whatever plans she intends to lay out.
The Loessian Queen peels away from the rock walls only to find that the plateau she had sought out was not devoid of visitors. For a brief moment, alarm rises cold in her chest but the stallion's appearance almost immediately brings her comfort.
“Hello there,” she greets him with a tired smile, pleased that the fairies had rid her of her temporary invisibility back on the Mountain, “You must be related to Lepis.” Her warm amber eyes watch him closely before her gaze turns towards the foothills that sprawl out before them. The gem of the Southern kingdom has been busier the last few weeks, a fact that she is eternally grateful for. “My name is Oceane. And yourself?”
The sound of hooves against rock disturbs the serene quiet that had settled over the landscape in following the hawk’s call. One dark-lined ear twists back to listen to the steps, but Tiercel makes no move to greet the approaching stranger. He doubts anyone in Loess would recognize him. He had spent the majority of his childhood alone or with his siblings; there were not many times he can remember socializing with his mother’s subjects.
It isn’t until the feminine voice reaches his ears that Tiercel turns his attention toward the stranger. She stands out against the dusty red of this border of Loess like a fish out of water. While the world around her is angular and colored in muted shades of natural Earth, she is curved and painted in the blues and purples of the ocean. He is curious at first, but the edges of his face harden when he notices the feathers comfortably folded against her sides. Out of all the children Lepis and Wolfbane had, Tiercel has been cursed with empty shoulders. His family never failed to remind him of this important fact, as they all fluttered to and fro in the skies.
Unknowingly, she has struck a nerve simply with her appearance. When she mentions his mother, Oceane digs the knife into his back a little deeper. Anger rises in the back of his throat and spills from him, potentially infecting the shimmering mare if she has not felt the force of another’s emotions within her own soul. A muscle in his jaw twitches, and suddenly the emotion is swept away cleanly. Tiercel gathers it within his bones and forces himself to connect his cerulean gaze with hers.
“Tiercel.” His voice is a smooth tenor, but there is an edge to his words. “I am related to Lepis, but I don’t consider her my mother anymore.” He ignores the memories of her frantic eyes on that fateful day, the way she had shouted his name while he fell into a wall of thorns and snares. Guilt has created something tormented and raging in the years since Gale’s death — someone who severed family ties in the transition from one home to the next.
As the dunskin stallion pivots to face her, their eyes connecting, Oceane's hopeful mood is dampened with a sudden, inexplicable wave of anger. It causes her to clench her blunted teeth tightly together, to slap her lavender tail with brief irritation against the muscle of her flank. And though it is fleeting, ebbing away nearly as swiftly as it had arrived, the heat lingers in her chest just long enough to respond defensively to the stranger before her.
“She doesn't cease to be your mother just because she's dead.”
Her tone is whetted, but as her voice fades so does the remainder of her anger. And there she stands, suddenly empty in her chest where the roiling had been moments before. Oceane clears her throat and pulls her lips into a slight frown as her gilded eyes connect with Tiercel again.
“I'm sorry,” Oceane says a bit quieter, “that was insensitive of me. I'm unsure where it came from.” She searches his face as her apology lingers between them, hopeful that she and her greeting have not thrust him out of the foothills. Nearly seven years have come and gone since she had arrived in Loess, and never had she come across the navy-striped man who stands before her now. Curious if there is something that had kept him away, but blatantly aware of the intrusiveness of this thought, she bites her tongue.
“Did you come searching for something?” she asks, finding a stronger voice again after a few moments, her ears fluttering towards him as she waits hopeful and expectant.
“She doesn’t cease to be your mother just because she’s dead.”
Despite all the burning, combustible, pressurized anger that threatens to explode from him at any moment, Tiercel is not prepared to hear that his mother is dead. He has not ever wondered if time would age his parents. An immature part of him figured his family would live forever, eternally pinwheeling in the sky above his head among the rosy clouds he could never touch. That was how his childhood had felt anyway; an endless competition of who could reach the ocean the fastest (and he would never win, for legs are much slower than wings) while their mother pressed her trickery so close to their skin he could crumble under the weight of her love.
He can taste her magic in his mouth now, a ghost of an emotion that is thin and metallic on his tongue. After leaving Loess, her love had left his heart quickly. Was it because Lepis’s love for him had never been real — only a replica of the tenderness she felt for her other children? Or was it because he had purged the true emotions from his insides until he was hollow, filling himself back up with all the anger and guilt that lives freely in him today? Regardless of the authenticity of Lepis’s feelings for Tiercel, she had birthed him and raised him. She had pushed through the walls of thorn to reach him.
And he had loved her.
Maybe he still does.
Tiercel’s cerulean eyes darken, the flame of anger quickly dying until it becomes blue and soft. “I… um — ” He isn’t sure how to explain his familial relationship to Oceane. Lepis and Wolfbane had been a landmark of Beqanna during his childhood — their family was a sign of political strength and the power of familial ties. He had left during the crater that Gale’s death created; he still doesn’t know about the way their father had shifted into something feral and dangerous, or the way Gale’s death had been the beginning of many changes that have only just now settled into normalcy.
Does Oceane know that he is the black sheep of the family? Tiercel wonders if his mother had told the opalescent mare about the darkest mark of her children, the boy who left too young and still hadn’t returned. His chest aches (with the constant weight of rage and guilt, with the sudden knowledge that Lepis is gone, with the discomfort of explaining the ties — or lack thereof — he has to his family).
He finally settles by saying, “I didn’t know she died.” Although Tiercel’s voice is quiet, it does not shake as he speaks. He wonders if he will notice Lepis’s absence. He is certain this death will feel different than Gale’s had. “I left my family when Gale died when we were young.” As if that might explain why she has not seen him before, why Lepis might have avoided talking about him, why he is so late to learn about his mother. His pale eyes turn from Oceane’s face to scan the red trails below, tracing the outline of the dried riverbed like it might hold the key to unlocking the emotions he so stubbornly clings to.
“Loess is where I grew up,” he admits in response to her question. “I don’t know why I’m here.” He holds on to this truth with a white-knuckled fist. “What about Wolfbane?”
Tiercel's anger seems to abate just as swiftly as Oceane's, though where hers becomes regret for the way she'd lashed out at him, his becomes a molten combination of sadness and softness. She knows instantly that she has done it again ─ spilled the news of a familial death without a gentle preface, without knowing that her words could be the ones to change someone's life. The Loessian Queen curses herself silently, keeping her tongue bitten until finally the son of Lepis before her finds his words again.
I didn't know she died.
Oceane frowns and with an uncomfortable shift of her weight offers him another apology ─ this one is softer, the same way she had apologized to Gale the day she'd told him the very same news. At least today she is able to keep her own sorrow at bay. It has been a long while now since Lepis had died for her Kingdom, and though the sadness still rises with the strength of a tidal wave on occasion, Oceane is able, at least, to keep her eyes dry these days.
The mention of Gale's death reels her back to the conversation immediately. It leaves a cluster of unspoken words at the back of her throat, words she wants to blurt out to undo the hurt she may have caused with the news of Lepis, but would it be fair of her to change his life so drastically in one day?
She finds that she is thankful when he answers her question, moving the conversation away from Lepis and Gale for a short time. And then, again, he puts his hoof on a topic that could only be ingrained with sadness and pain.
“Wolfbane is gone, too,” she says quietly, after a short hesitation, “He died when Lepis did. In the fires that burned Loess.” Her golden eyes move beyond the dunskin stallion to the foothills behind him, regarding the aftermath momentarily before her gaze returns to Tiercel. “You are most certainly welcome to remain in Loess if that is what you wish to do. But I do recommend a visit to Islandres before you settle in too comfortably. You might find what you're looking for there.” If she can't tell him directly about Gale, at least she can point him in the man's direction.
Can he take comfort in the simple fact that his parents died together? As his pale eyes scan the red, dry riverbed below, Tiercel feels himself grow content. The Wolfbane and Lepis he knows would have wanted to die together, wrapped in their feathery warm embrace until they wake in the Afterlife. He can live with this mental image, perhaps even cling to it if he ever learns of the unraveling of their marriage. His mother had always loved Loess and it seems fitting that she would burn with it.
Tiercel’s dark-tipped ears twist in the opalescent mare’s direction when she mentions Islandres. What could possibly be waiting for him there? Despite the fact that he knows very little about the territory, he assumes one of his siblings must be living there now. Pteron, perhaps — he is the eldest and the most likely option for a leader. He considers the visit, but only if it were his oldest brother. Eyas, on the other hand, might try to reunite him with their parents if she ever saw him again… His relationship with his triplet sister has been rocky at best and hateful the most often.
The rest of his siblings are phantoms — either fleeing their nest before he can remember or brought into the world after he had left.
His face turns back toward Oceane, studying the outline of her strong, detailed face. “I appreciate your invitation.” Tiercel isn’t settled entirely; his visit on this day is entirely by chance, yet he finds himself comforted by the familiarity of Loess. “And I’m thankful for your advice. It seems you know my family well.” The expression in his cerulean eyes may be unreadable at this comment, a haze of rare stoicism crossing his face. “It was nice to meet you, Oceane, and I’m sure we will meet again.”
With a nod Tiercel turns and ventures down the trail he had come, much more on his mind than he had first arrived with.
