*"Did you hear about the invasion?"*

I would’ve laughed if it wasn’t so tragic.

Ho shit I’ve heard about the invasion.

My mouth went hard and thin and I snorted, my eyes going somewhere that wasn’t on this plane anymore. Yeah. I’ve heard about the invasion. I’ve heard it from a mind that geared with surprising greatness behind a caveman’s bushy mane; I’ve heard it from a voice that had lulled me to sleep so many times, lips and teeth that I will never, ever admit I think about way too often; I’ve heard it from tears that I’ve seen slipped from children’s eyes as they lay in a meadow, because it’s all they could do.

And now I was hearing that my Jiji had been effected by it, too, like the consequences of it were like the spindly legs of a demon reaching out across the land and grabbing whatever looked the tastiest to fuck up. My heart twisted like it always did whenever I thought about the invasion—the impossibility of it (impossible to change, impossible to forget) and the fights it started in my breast, the fires that erupted whenever I think about Leos’ blue eyes shattering in front of me (you have no right to fucking cry) and the way he had noticed I hadn’t slept because of it.

It was so perfect. The confusion, the turmoil, the aftermath that spanned seasons—it was all wrapped neatly together, a clusterfuck that was flawlessly impossible to figure out, a heartsickness that was supreme in its impeccable toxicity. Jiji was speaking to me—adding fuel to the fires, ribbons to the bow, and I was thrown into a crazy maelstrom of doubt again.

*"My dad, Midas was the Czar in the Falls and the Basin stole him.”*

(Midas had refused our offers to ally multiple times. He ripped up invitations given by our children. At that point, he refused to differentiate reason from paranoia.)

*“Your Ma said that I should stay because it was dangerous and I did. I gave her amulets for taking care of my Momma then they left to go and invade my Dad's herd.”*

(The Basin.. the Basin was going to make Midas 'pay for his ignorance'—she said it was justice, some kind of vengeance, for the 'crimes committed against' .. well, myself, and the rest of the herd.)

*“And he was trying to escape to go fight and protect his herd and he-"*

(Why would you fight a war you know you are going to lose?)

Something froze when she went quiet cuz I knew where her words were going.

I didn’t want her to say them—but that was punkass thing for me to feel, wasn’t it, cuz just because she might not say something doesn’t mean that thing doesn’t exist in her breast, where she might’ve been feeling it this whole time, driving her nuts, driving her away from sleep, even.

Looking in the eyes of a nightmare.

*"…he's dead... and I saw it happen.*

I didn’t…know what to say.

Did I know her Pa? In the back of my mind somewhere, yeah; “Midas” was always the name of those rare trips she took as a foal without me, to go see an important stallion in her life that always confused me. Back then I didn’t know what a Pa even was so I just let it slip by with vague annoyance, cuz it was a thing that took Jiji away from me for weeks at a time until she’d return and we’d go on and do our thing again.

I got sick, thinking about the name “Midas”. Another memory presented itself; quick and fleeting and blurry cuz it wasn’t something too important to me at the time. What I remembered most was the changes in the Foothills that threw me into a rage, and the stallion who introduced himself as the “Zar” or whatever trying to explain the changes made by the Earth God.

And I remember that vague feeling I had had looking at him—that he had been a Pa, someone’s Dad, but I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time and I left in a huff over the demolished mountain.

And now he was dead by his own foolishness, or the vengeance of a herd done wrong by another herd that had nothing to do with him, or the Moon Goddess’ grand fuckery that had drawn everyone together in the first place but was now tearing us apart, or—SOMETHING, something dumb, something complicated that didn’t make sense and didn’t need to make sense to be evil.

(Leos’ tears, Lee laying there, defeated, surprised he has a hear—)

But here was Jiji, staring at the ground, having lost her father and having seen it happen. My voice was gone—but what use would’ve have been? What could you say in a situation like this to make it better? How could words comfort her—bring her back to life?

They can’t.

Words can’t turn the dead.

(Words can’t turn back time.)

So when I moved forward to grasp her in my embrace, I was silent; my mouth was closed hard and my breathing was weird but I just held her to me, the weight of my neck pressing her down to earth and into her skin. I held her and I wondered if there was anyone out there who would’ve held her like this, if I wasn’t here—or if she had spent all this time wandering in a state I knew all too well, that feeling like even the slightest breeze could pierce your heart open and allow out o finally, finally bleed out.

I held her; I breathed into her mane; my lips found her skin and I nipped there, to get the blood flowing, cuz heaven knows that her veins were probably frozen.

I held her and stood there, and let her know I was here.

I’m here, Jiji.





talk