03-19-2023, 03:58 PM
The world shifts in and out, swirling in a haze that takes them – the group gathered by the Sprites – away from the Ruins. Lystra had never been overly familiar with the strange place, and it seemed even stranger without the markings of war and struggle written upon the stones. She shivered, feeling a phantom wind moving along her spine and that made her peer out through the fog, trying to make out some definition from the looming shapes. She gets her wish, because the obscure figures become shouts that eventually become skirmishes.
These are the early meetings of Baltian and Stratosian.
Lystra watches – both fascinated and alarmed – at how quickly both sides come to blows.
And then it fades again, until it reveals a trio of ravens that feast on the corpse of (what she assumes) is one of the fallen. They discuss the feud and the food that it provides, but they are given nothing more. The scene changes again, revealing the slighter and smaller forms of foals. They are young, and whatever the dispute might be between their rival herds, it doesn’t exist between the young. They laugh and play and romp, seemingly oblivious to everything but the moment that they’ve claimed for themselves.
(And Lystra feels a sense of gladness for them. Take what you can, she might have said, if they could have spoken those glimpses of the past. There would be so much sadness to come.)
Then, the world spins again, enveloping the group in fog.
Another scene appears, and this time, they arrive on a beach. The waves crash and Lystra can hear each crashing wave seemingly match the rhythm of her heart, as she tries to fight off the sense of foreboding that begins to swell within her spotted chest. Baltia and Stratos only have a vague understanding of each other. They keep to their own kind and their own borders, in an existence that Lystra fully understands.
Before the Great Shift, she had never left Taiga.
Dread continues to fill Lystra and it only rises as the Statosian filly lands, beaming and full of bright, youthful energy. A Baltian colt emerges from the ocean waves, and as the day proceeds, it becomes full of coltish antics. The sight is sweet, and as the pair begin to explore a narrow strip of beach, Lystra grows more and more concerned. A blood feud can have no good beginning, and as she watches the two younglings move down the shore, she waits.
First, when she sees the great raptor, Lystra is afraid that it means to make a meal of them.
And then, the rocks begin to tumble down.
It strikes the colt first. His new companion is brave in the face of danger – braver than Lystra would ever be – and doesn’t hesitate to jump in after him. More rocks fall, descending in a cavalcade of death. She wants to look away, because as each stone thunders down and then crashes into the murk of the ocean, the Shadow doesn’t think she can bare anymore of tragedy. The stones eventually stop, and eventually, the only thing to look at is the swirling of blood against a changing tide.
Lystra stares, and stares, trying to make sense of what she has just seen.
Oblivious to time, she doesn’t realize what the Sprites have done at first. She doesn’t know that while the deaths of the two children cannot be undone, what might happen – the wars that devastated both kingdoms and would eventually bring that same threat to Beqanna – or what she could even do.
Her silver eyes are wet, and that is when she realizes the dampness on her cheeks is chilled. The sea air is brisk, and when she looks up, it is to more than those who had originally gathered with them. The bodies are the children are splayed on the beach, and that is where she looks, remembering the sound of their laughter. It echoes in her mind still when she glances, turning to look into the furious faces mingled with the raw lines of loss.
"I'm so sorry," she murmurs. A Stratosian near her glares with death in his eyes and when she steps back, the hurling words stop. That is when she realizes that they can see her, hear her, and Lystra stares at them all, dumbfounded. What could she possibly say to them? They had just lost their children, and though this event would be the harbinger of what was to come to Beqanna, would they even care? What was Beqanna to them while their foals laid here? They might even want blood, relish it as retribution for what had been lost on this beach. "It was the Roc," she says, "when it perched on the ledge. The stones that fell hit them both and...," it was not easy to speak of Death. "They were laughing together, before -" she tries to explain against the sea of anguish surrounding her, doing her best to to explain that what had happened here was an accident, not an act of murder.
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