04-11-2015, 06:13 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-11-2015, 06:14 PM by Tiberios.)
A year. A long, wearisome year. One spent bound in chains and lies and secrecy. A year of resentment welling deep within him until it festered and sunk into his bones. A year for them to forget about him. But Tiberios, as mangled as he was, never seemed to die easily. He had evaded the clutches of the ancient foe and taken the fated journey once more to his homeland. He thinks he cannot call it that anymore, that the Dale has become the source of all his problems rather than the answer to them, but he’s still so innocently blind. He still holds her in his heart - really, she’s the only reason he’s returned. A faded promise he’d reminded himself of time and time again while he’d endured his captivity. He has no idea that she’s already put him in her past.
The ever-black stallion tops the rise - new scars on his good side from the pressure of the magicians chains to match the old scars now worn over on his burnt side. His gold-flecked eyes stare aimlessly into the void of the Dale. They seem so empty now. A tired frown sits right at home on his mouth, etched there. He’s aged. He could be his father’s sibling now. Both stallions fleshed out and mature. But unlike Tiphon, Tiberios will remain ugly and troubled. He sets aside his bitterness for later.
For now he only gives a half-hearted call - wondering if she’ll come to see him.
The Lord of the Dale has returned TIBERIOS White Fire manipulating stallion
Of course she comes.
He is on the breeze at first, a distinct concoction of flame and earth. A mixture of life and lightning-ruin and singed hair and spruce; of all things familiar and dear to her. But his scent is dampened by something darker, coppery. As if the last year had been bloody haze he couldn’t quite scrub from his coat. She shudders to imagine. Her searches had been fruitless, and though she longed to find him then, things were far different now. There are stories she doesn’t want to tell him. There are decisions made that she can’t take back. She is glad he is here, and yet, she doesn’t want to see him.
So of course, she comes.
His voice is a bittersweet symphony as it draws her near. Each step is a heavy reminder to keep it that way. The last time she had approached his return with too much enthusiasm. That rift had long ago healed but its’ scars tell her to be cautious. It’s difficult, because she’s missed him so.
Seeing Tiberios atop the hill rekindles something within Talulah. She had missed his enthusiasm and dry wit, his loyalty and passion. More than all that, she missed the mystery. They had both felt it when they were together, the first crackle of dry kindling. Every touch was exhilarating, every look was meaningful. If he hadn’t left…but then she’ll never know, will she? He had left, and he had taken the fire with him.
The cooled embers that stir in her gut are nothing more than hope, now. She comes up beside him (his bad side, the one sacrificed to his gift) and says nothing at first. What can she say but the obvious? When the metal-mare can think of nothing else, she touches his cheek so softly that she can barely feel it herself. It’s enough to be sure, though. She has to be sure. “I waited for you,” she says, and the words feel like lidocaine numbing her tongue. The numbness fills her until she can’t feel her organs, her bones. It fills her as she thinks of what might have been – of what is, instead.
“I searched for you,” she says then, almost accusingly. But it’s her own guilt that fuels her. There is hurt in his eyes and Talulah knows she will hurt him further, the longer they talk. The more he finds out. And it shouldn’t be this way. She shouldn’t be ashamed to tell her best friend the happiest occasion of her life. But he’s always been more than that – meant more than that. She keeps him in the dark a little longer. “Where were you, Tiberios?”
t a l u l a h
lady of the Dale |
reference //info
04-14-2015, 01:46 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-15-2015, 02:43 PM by Tiberios.)
When he first catches sight of her (just there, over the lowest ridge - she’s seen him now he’s sure) he surfaces from the blackness that’s held him under for so long now. It’s painful; this new emotion that he’d thought was gone forever. It burns in a familiar ache that the night-stallion has dreamed of ever since that day in the meadow. He breaths her name against his lips, trembles at the sacred meaning its always held for him. She was his god. He notices that there seems to be something different about her: an ethereal glow. He thinks she’s never been more beautiful than now.
Her nearness causes nothing but the subtle flick of his gaze. He doesn’t move, refuses to speak until she’s done. The usual questions he’s expected. “Where’ve you been … I searched for you … I waited…” They seem unreal in this setting. The countless times he’s dreamed of them - but they don’t compare. Tiberios mulls over the idea of what she’s been dreaming of. He wonders if she’s held him close in her heart the same way that he’s given himself to her. But he can tell by her distance - her tone. Something’s changed. There’s a divide between them, and the wrecked stallion guesses as to what.
He blinks softly, slowly, and recalls the last time the two had seen each other. Gold against silver. Talulah tucked comfortably into the curve of Tiphon’s body. You see - he’s learned. He knows better than to trust anymore, to hope. He’s buried those useless emotions with his heart, somewhere in his past. Perhaps at one time they could have been a beautiful duo. Perhaps she could have been his. But now the ethereal glow seems tainted. Dirty.
“I was busy being tortured for a crime I never committed. So sorry to have inconvenienced you, my lady.” He speaks, no hint of anger or jest in his voice. He blinks again, clearing his mind before inhaling. “Any word on Tiphon?” TIBERIOS White Fire manipulating stallion
He knows she will ask certain questions just as she knows he will react as he does. They settle into their old pattern of equal amounts of irritation and compassion lacing their words. As if they can’t find the right combination of words to express themselves; as if they can’t convey the depth of their emotions and so resort to childish pettiness. The wall that rose between them before is back, though this time it feels more like an impenetrable fortress. They hurt, for far different reasons perhaps, but they react the same as they always have.
So she isn’t surprised when he treats her with indifference. She welcomes his cold shoulder, because at least it’s here, in the Dale once more. With me, she thinks selfishly, sidling imperceptibly closer to the fire-stallion when he’s not looking. His steely tone might not come as a shock, but what he says does. Torture. Deep down, she always knew Tiberios hadn’t abandoned them of his own free will. There was too much here for him. From the day she practically accosted him as he entered the Dale, Talulah felt that he truly belonged. He was – is – one of them. And whatever kept him away had no business doing so.
His answer is incentive enough to move.
Talulah braces herself for the sights ahead and circles around him. She leaves the comforting familiarity of his burnt hide for a new horror. His ‘good’ side (the side that looked like any other horse, not the distinguishing mark of a loved one) is now a canvas of confinement and pain. It’s obvious to her that the irregular lines of scar tissue were where chains had covered him. She is no stranger to chains, though the ones that had held her in the Chamber had been mercifully reserved for her feet. This is incomparable and completely enraging.
The metal-girl quakes with indignation as she comes alongside him once more. More than anything, motherhood has ignited her desire to protect. And in a strange twist of fate (reasoning that Tiberios wouldn’t care to hear, perhaps) she feels as compelled to act for him as she would Ramiel. But she remembers, just as her eyes are blazing with a hatred for a torturer she doesn’t know, that he probably doesn’t want her help. He says Tiphon’s name like he knows – and maybe he does, maybe it’s better to not have any secrets between them. No secrets, only a wall that she stubbornly tries to break down with her words. “I’m sorry. I was so worried for you. It turns out I was right to be.” The fire dims and finally blinks out in her gut. What’s the point when they keep apologizing? Will they take turns saying their sorry for an eternity?
“Do you know who did this to you?” She thinks of justice before realizing how impossible it will be to obtain. Their numbers are so few, and as much as she’d like to go to war for the horror inflicted upon their lord, it would be a lost cause without additional help. “Tiphon has been away. I believe he is procuring an alliance with the Jungle.” Talulah can’t meet his eye when she says it. Their angel king has been absent far longer than that diplomatic trip should take. He hasn’t even met his son. She sighs and adds, “what do you want to do about it?” She means his capture, because if he wants to forget it, she will. But if he wants to take action, she will be the first to step behind him.
t a l u l a h
lady of the Dale |
reference //info
Oh, Talulah. He wants to speak to her like the child he once was. He wants (so badly) to be bold and open and caring as she is. Her gesture is as sweet as he could imagine, and he watches the fire burn gloriously in her tone as it does in her eyes. He should’ve been the cold, metal horse, and she should’ve been the fire god. But fate would have it otherwise. He wonders then if this is why he doesn’t deserve her; he wonders if this is how it was always meant to be between them. Fate, intervening endlessly until the day that he billows away to ash and forgotten memory while she and Tiphon will remain forever more. Selfishly he wants the one thing they have: Immortality. An insurmountable amount of time to convince her to love him.
But Tiberios knows that love is a wild thing of its own. It has no master. So he watches her silently and lets the corners of his mouth quirk in the way that can only be described as a mild grin. “Glad to hear that I was on your mind.” He says, careful not to let the words seem too brittle. He sighs instead of answering her question about his captors. It was true that if he had the power he would inflict a swift beating on Set for what he’d done, but in his mind the curious little mare who began all the trouble was of no fault. If anyone was left to blame in his heart, it was Tiphon. But he could hardly set fire to his own creator - much less the man who’d eventually saved him.
When she finally divulges into the topic of Tiphon’s whereabouts, the black hound holds her gaze. Her eyes curve to the distance … in longing? He can’t be sure. But with her own indignant expression she brushes the Kings absence away and poses an interesting query to him. “What’s done is done. I’d rather look ahead to my duty, and to finally being home, with you.” He replies firmly, as if stating a case. His head tilts gently, that same half-smile still present before he glides past her and down into the protection of his kingdom. He doesn’t look back - somehow he knows she’ll follow.
They’re not quite finished yet. “What have I missed?” TIBERIOS White Fire manipulating stallion
“Of course,” she says simply, as if was never in question. As if it was as natural as breathing and as unfailing as the sunrise. Of course she thought of him. His tone is finally neutral (lacking the dark undercurrent it had before, and is that the hint of a smile?) and she treads carefully over the shaking bridge. There is still a dangerous river curving below them that he has no way of knowing. Sooner or later, he’d have to know.
For now, she lets him ponder his options. They have a reaching friendship with the Deserts (and how she wishes that Morphine was still alive) and a historical alliance with the Tundra. In her mind, Talulah crafts her argument to both kingdoms. She mulls over the best way to convince them to relinquish their respective armies – on a sort-of loan, she reasons – to avenge Tiberios. It’s a task made difficult by the fact that he is only one member of the Dale. This was a personal attack, that much is clear, and it will be hard to justify war on his behalf. All of this runs through her head, but when he answers, her plans evaporate into summer’s heat.
Look ahead, he says. Look ahead and forget what’s behind, she wants to add, but stills her tongue. It’s just as likely that they will overlook each other’s discretions as he will move on from his torturous year, but he seems determined to do just that. Talulah shakes her head mildly, unwilling to forget horror that is still brand new to her. For him, though (or at least in front of him) she will bide her time. Vengeance festers at the base of her skull; she will not forget.
The grey follows the black down into the bowl of the Dale. Everything is green and vibrant, and her chest constricts with the feeling of home. Almost all of her loved ones are here, safe, home. Tiphon’s gold and white face swims into her mind’s eye, a violent pinprick of exception to her overwhelming contentment. She misses the angel and his absence extends her worry. Just when she gets one back, the other disappears.
Tiberios walks and the mare follows, her eyes unwittingly drawn to his scarred side. “We came home from the monarch summit to find out that roving wolves had attacked while we were gone. Elysteria luckily managed to hold down the fort by herself.” The second bit of news she is less ready to share, but the further they progress into the Dale, the more she realizes that it must be done. He should hear it from her. She looks away, drawing courage from her already-sapped reserves. “There is something else. I…I have a son.” She says it softly, as if afraid to disrupt the delicate treaty they have just forged. “I’m not sure how you feel about children, but I’d like you to meet him.” Talulah doesn’t know about Tyrna. She only hopes that he isn’t too offended that she asked. She wants to work this out, to move on. To look ahead, as he’d suggested.
t a l u l a h
lady of the Dale |
reference //info
He can tell she’s avoiding something. The tone, the unwillingness to come forward and talk about what was certainly going to break them for good. He could feel it like the shadow of a storm - growing, waiting to free a single thunderbolt. The news of the wolves causes his head to turn to her, the single flicker of a molten gold eye. He could smell a magician’s hand on that trick. But she seems unconcerned about this, it doesn’t even drive pitch into her voice. Just a passing comment that dulls next to what was really festering in her heart.
The painted man finds that he is quivering, such is the effort he's using to steel himself for what was to come. He knows that Talulah would not make such roundabout conversation if she weren’t sure it would devastate him. But could he be so surprised? Hadn’t he known what would be waiting for him? No doubt she was about to admit her devotion to Tiphon, her unending, unfathomable love to the golden king. His jaw clenches. His own mother had fallen prey to the whims of the god-like being. Why not Talulah?
But what falls from her lips stops him in his tracks.
A child. A son, to be exact. He can picture the creature now - fair, achingly beautiful to look at, with golden hair. His heart crumbles, but he finds that a smile lifts his cheeks. How could he ever forget the glory of his own daughters birth? It would be sick to rob Talulah of that happiness, and the child was hardly to blame for the actions of its’ parents. “No doubt he’s as wonderful as you, Talulah. I always imagined you a beautiful mother, so it would seem I was right.”
He couldn’t tell her that he always imagined the son to be his. TIBERIOS White Fire manipulating stallion
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Tiberios
