There was something in the wind, she reckoned. It beckoned those she loved from the shores of their island into the shuddering, consumptive waves in the distance. And who would be left but her, sitting on the bloodied sand, trying to keep their footprints from vanishing beneath the waves? Their memories were clasped in her fragile hands, but so many had deserted her and left their fragments behind that soon she was scrambling to hold them all. Why was she left with such a sombre job? Having to watch as those tiny ships sailed into the tsunami approaching? Did they miss her? Did they ever turn back once, even twice, to gaze upon her kneeling broken on the shoreline, and wonder if they should go back? Whether they had or not, they had yet to return.
So many silver threads broken, promises she'd meant when spoken but which resonated untrue when plucked by curious fingers. Did the saying not go that blood was thicker than water? Could she be blamed for wishing to stay at the side of her siblings, to at least question what they were intending to do before making her own decision? She would never abandon her beloved kin like that, would not have them worry needlessly without a word of goodbye or an explanation.
Ktulu had gone, like a whisper of cold wind on a late summer morning. Her memory was a ghost, sending chills down her spine and into her heart. Love had not been strong enough to keep her. Love had not been steady enough to draw the shadow away to her side either. It shouldn't hurt. There was a golden-hearted lover in a paradise of crimson and gold sand awaiting her with a smile. They had created a new life together, raised it similarly despite all attempts at distance and alliance to tear them apart.
Why would she ever turn away from that, and instead choose a bitter and broken porcelain doll?
A song touched her aurals, and she tore from her thoughts as if surfacing from the depths of the ocean, disoriented and somber.
Apollo calls, came a soft, hesitant whisper inside her mind, like the slow-motion descent of winter flakes during the first snowfall. Humming softly in reply, she dances on her tiny legs and swings her body round to answer the call.
There are many already grouped around him, swearing their allegiance in echoing calls to his symphonic voice. He is the orchestrator, and them the instruments singing sweet music to the beck and call of his talents. The shadow listens from the edges, lingering, and watches as a shimmering powder pink, golden body claims her leave verbally and physically. Like a beautiful plague she seeps forward and gazes upon the child understandingly. "Be safe, young one. I am always here should you need me." It is a whisper meant only for the little lass. She had helped raised the wanton princess, had been present at her birth and had blessed her in a fashion only she recalled.
It is her turn to speak. Somehow she knows this, despite no mouth calling out her name or bidding her to do so. Stepping forth she turns to face her peers, her brethren. Brothers and sisters in arms who had come with their shaken but loyal faith, wanting a light to lead them out from the darkness. Lakota could not be that light, she did not believe, but what was to keep a bird from attempting flight?
"Many of you do not know me. I am Lakota, Poisoner and Medic of the Grey. And I am going to tell you a story." Her eyes flicker to Apollo, sad and weary, but with a belief in him that perhaps is weighted heavier than those surrounding. "I have been a member of the Grey since it was formed. I was there to welcome Phaedra and Apollo, in fact. Saved them both from a rather disturbing monster in the deep as well. And I ask you believe me when I tell you that this...whatever we are...that is not what the Grey was meant to be." She walks slowly, pacing idly in front of them, uncaring of their eyes. Should they tune out, it was not her loss. She had nothing more to lose, after all. What more could they take from her that she had not already given?
"Apollo, you have grown much since I first met you. You are worthy of your title. And for those who still stand here faithfully, thank you." Violets move to survey the crowd that stands around. Small they may be, but they are still alive, still together. She can work with that. "Should any of you need me, I am here. To heal your wounds, to calm your fears and sedate you. To spar you and keep you strong, offer a shoulder or an ear. I cannot guarantee you will like what you hear, I am terse in my honesty. But there will be no other who will stand at your side as I will if you allow me a place there." Okay, so she was never nominated for her crowd motivation, but it was the best she could give, and she'd do anything to rally them beneath Apollo.
"For those who want to know more, seek me out. I can teach you the ways of natural medicine and poison. If I have any say, we will not fall, we will not falter or fail. We will thrive, so long as you support those who need it, and trust in one another." She quieted and moved towards Apollo after a brief moment, giving the others time to let the information sink in and also realize she was finished.
Apollo...he had truly grown. Lakota was the oldest member of the original Grey left, and it made her feel...old. Broken. Unwanted. How ironic was it that the two stupid kids she'd saved that day on the beach had become the leader of a herd, and the head of an Intelligence sector? And yet...she was nothing. A medic that had never wished for the title. A poisoner with no use. She was nothing. Absence, emptiness, that is what she was. Useless.
"You have become a fine stallion, Apollo the Merciful. I have little to offer...I am nothing. But I am always here for you. You were one of my first friends. Lead well and true, Merciful, and I shall do what little I can." Shamed, she turned her head, and walked slowly back to the empty space aside from her kin. A Medic, a Poisoner, a Mercenary. And yet she was still nothing but useless extra baggage.
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[O] Our Time is Now [Mandatory Herd Meeting]
