.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
He had seen the glass wall in its glory—and he had seen it as it was now, shattered, ruins, remnants of a past era. He had never understood why they had built it. Wolves and cougars had never threatened the herd when it had been his, so clearly, it was built to keep something else out. Or something else in?
Those who had spoken of peace, of open minds.. had built a wall. What had they feared? Mauja's scattered wolves? Or, the truth? The truth about themselves? He shook his head as he passed, careful not to cut himself on the edges time had not yet managed to smooth out. It was, he figured, as d'Artagnan had told him a few years ago: he looked for reason within the actions of the Qian, when in truth, there was none to be found. He had thought them better, worthier, and it filled the hollows up with displeasure each time he came to the conclusion that he was wrong.
.. my king and queen. He had been staring intently ahead, moving like a stalking cat with a tensed back, ears trapped against a thick neck. The only thing that changed was his eyes. Slowly they slid sideways, to peer at the woman walking beside him. Kahlua.. was not going to the Falls? Was that what she meant? That she would not lead with Kaj and Archibald anymore? That she would stay, here?
Something in his heart started to bloom, spread its wings, soar, and the words she whispered into his ears unclenched them. Black tips swept forward again, wonder written in the pale depths of his eyes. It had to mean what he thought it did. It had to mean that he would not lose her to the Falls, to a life he could not follow her into—to some other man, who could not handle the fact that Kahlua made her own decisions.
"Only you could make it worth it," he said quietly.
The Throat.
As he stood, still next to Kahlua, where the waters swallowed the bridge, he felt a small spark of anger stir again, shadow of his rage when he had first seen what they had done. It was a winged darkness stirring in his breast, smoldering, embers glowing hot as the dark phoenix within breathed a ghost of its rage.
But then, owls tangled in his mane, he flew.
It was not flight as the owls knew it; it was not flight as he knew it, having ridden storms with his brother, but it was.. it was soaring, being weightless, held above the world, and—
He buried all of it. He buried all of it so deep he hoped he would never stumble upon its grave again.
Then that almost familiar sand was beneath his hooves, the owls disentangling themselves from his long hair with a surly look. He glanced at them. It never ceased to amaze him how utterly disapproving and insulted they could look. Irma even went so far as to make a noise of annoyance before taking to the sky with Diego, though they remained close above his head.
He had been here before. He had even called it home, albeit briefly, when there had been no moon, no sun, no stars. He had been hungry, then—hungry for revenge, for a throne that wasn't his, eager to slide the fine blade of his knife in between Kri's ribs and listen for the gasp as he gave it a twist.. to whisper in her ear, you have been betrayed.
But that had all gone to hell. The moon's return, Mirage, Gaucho and Midas had seen to that.
Speaking of.. Gaucho came into their midst, and Mauja glanced at Kahlua, then thought of Torleik's silent nod. Perhaps, part of being a leader was just that—being humble. Being better than yourself. Being above your prejudice and grudges.
Mauja wiped both soul and face clean, then acknowledged the fiery leader with a deep nod.
“Helovia is in a draught. Food is scarce everywhere and your herd is growing skinnier by the day. You’ve heard the Throat has some plants that are thriving in the heat and you’ve come here looking for help. Convince Gaucho to help you.”
Again, his gaze drifted, and settled on Lena. Why was she here? What was her purpose?
And beneath that, is she still happy? Still safe? Does she still smile bright enough to outshine the sun?
I'm not worthy.
He had abandoned too many. Wanted to turn around, and leave. He would only disappoint. Dreams would shatter and turn to dust in his presence. Could he be better than Mirage—and not build walls? Could he.. could he be all he once had been?
Slowly, he stepped forward, regal head tilting to one side as he regarded Gaucho before coming to stand before him.
He had no idea what he was doing—he was out on thin ice, unsure of whether he was meant to describe what he would do, or to.. play it out. His eyes swept a slow arc in front of him, before closing. He breathed in. He didn't belong here. Breathed out. Opened his eyes and peered at Gaucho, before filling the tentative silence with his clear voice.
"I come in peace," was what he said at first, and for a moment, the ghost of his past self was there with them, lurking in the lines of his body, in the grace of his pose. Then, the corner of his dark mouth curled up in a shrewd half-smile. Unlike the last time I was here. "And if my herd was starving, I would come here in peace, too. To even attempt launching an attack would be madness, considering that the Throat has the food. They're bound to be in better shape, and unless I was dead certain I could overwhelm them with sheer numbers, diplomacy would be my best bet.
"I'm assuming I come here as King of World's Edge. If Gaucho agreed to meet with me-" considering we have some history, "-I would make my case. My herd is starving, and we've heard there's plants in the Throat that thrive in the heat." His head cocked to one side. "There's two vital questions, though. The first one is, would this plant survive in another climate? The earth of the Edge is different. The second one is, would Gaucho's herd survive and thrive on shared resources? After all, he has no obligation to help us—least of all if it would risk the well-being of his own herd.
"There are only two things I could offer, aside from my heart and I'm not ready to part with that yet. I would offer the services of my Glaziers-" and whores, by the sound of that sentence, idiot "-for whatever need the Throat may have, even if it means creating weapons to be used against us. That, we can deal with, if it means surviving for now. If not interested in that, I would outright beg for his help in exchange of a debt, to be cashed in at any time." But don't make me do that. And besides, you don't want to do it either. I'm not exactly known for keeping my promises. He glanced at Kahlua. He wasn't sure he was convincing anyone. He was just.. rambling. Yeah.
"If it is probable the plant would survive in the Edge, I would try to barter mainly for offshoots and seeds. Unless I held off coming here until it was almost too late, we should be able to survive on what meager rations Helovia can offer until the plants are able to sustain us. If they would not survive in the Edge, the only reasonable solution would be to temporarily relocate my herd, either into the Throat itself, or to the shore opposite of it—to share resources with Gaucho's herd. Agreeing to such a thing would be an incredible kindness and honor." That he said with his pale eyes fixed on Gaucho. And then.. he wasn't sure what else he could say.
"Though, really, I'd prefer to just get a rain dancer. So maybe that's why I'm here—looking for someone who can make rain." Slowly, he shook his head. That wasn't the task. He was derailing. He wouldn't even have been here in the first place if Helovia came into a drought.. unless it was as Kahlua had stated, and no Gods, no magic.
"And, to be completely honest.. of course, I would have a small, stealthy strike team ready should negotiations fail. A night raid to attempt to take what we need to survive." He shrugged. "I could get even nastier, too, trying to catch something that is dear to Gaucho and hold hostage in exchange for what we'd need." He set his gaze on Gaucho again. "But I would come in peace, first. And that is truth."
Those who had spoken of peace, of open minds.. had built a wall. What had they feared? Mauja's scattered wolves? Or, the truth? The truth about themselves? He shook his head as he passed, careful not to cut himself on the edges time had not yet managed to smooth out. It was, he figured, as d'Artagnan had told him a few years ago: he looked for reason within the actions of the Qian, when in truth, there was none to be found. He had thought them better, worthier, and it filled the hollows up with displeasure each time he came to the conclusion that he was wrong.
.. my king and queen. He had been staring intently ahead, moving like a stalking cat with a tensed back, ears trapped against a thick neck. The only thing that changed was his eyes. Slowly they slid sideways, to peer at the woman walking beside him. Kahlua.. was not going to the Falls? Was that what she meant? That she would not lead with Kaj and Archibald anymore? That she would stay, here?
Something in his heart started to bloom, spread its wings, soar, and the words she whispered into his ears unclenched them. Black tips swept forward again, wonder written in the pale depths of his eyes. It had to mean what he thought it did. It had to mean that he would not lose her to the Falls, to a life he could not follow her into—to some other man, who could not handle the fact that Kahlua made her own decisions.
"Only you could make it worth it," he said quietly.
The Throat.
As he stood, still next to Kahlua, where the waters swallowed the bridge, he felt a small spark of anger stir again, shadow of his rage when he had first seen what they had done. It was a winged darkness stirring in his breast, smoldering, embers glowing hot as the dark phoenix within breathed a ghost of its rage.
But then, owls tangled in his mane, he flew.
It was not flight as the owls knew it; it was not flight as he knew it, having ridden storms with his brother, but it was.. it was soaring, being weightless, held above the world, and—
He buried all of it. He buried all of it so deep he hoped he would never stumble upon its grave again.
Then that almost familiar sand was beneath his hooves, the owls disentangling themselves from his long hair with a surly look. He glanced at them. It never ceased to amaze him how utterly disapproving and insulted they could look. Irma even went so far as to make a noise of annoyance before taking to the sky with Diego, though they remained close above his head.
He had been here before. He had even called it home, albeit briefly, when there had been no moon, no sun, no stars. He had been hungry, then—hungry for revenge, for a throne that wasn't his, eager to slide the fine blade of his knife in between Kri's ribs and listen for the gasp as he gave it a twist.. to whisper in her ear, you have been betrayed.
But that had all gone to hell. The moon's return, Mirage, Gaucho and Midas had seen to that.
Speaking of.. Gaucho came into their midst, and Mauja glanced at Kahlua, then thought of Torleik's silent nod. Perhaps, part of being a leader was just that—being humble. Being better than yourself. Being above your prejudice and grudges.
Mauja wiped both soul and face clean, then acknowledged the fiery leader with a deep nod.
“Helovia is in a draught. Food is scarce everywhere and your herd is growing skinnier by the day. You’ve heard the Throat has some plants that are thriving in the heat and you’ve come here looking for help. Convince Gaucho to help you.”
Again, his gaze drifted, and settled on Lena. Why was she here? What was her purpose?
And beneath that, is she still happy? Still safe? Does she still smile bright enough to outshine the sun?
I'm not worthy.
He had abandoned too many. Wanted to turn around, and leave. He would only disappoint. Dreams would shatter and turn to dust in his presence. Could he be better than Mirage—and not build walls? Could he.. could he be all he once had been?
Slowly, he stepped forward, regal head tilting to one side as he regarded Gaucho before coming to stand before him.
He had no idea what he was doing—he was out on thin ice, unsure of whether he was meant to describe what he would do, or to.. play it out. His eyes swept a slow arc in front of him, before closing. He breathed in. He didn't belong here. Breathed out. Opened his eyes and peered at Gaucho, before filling the tentative silence with his clear voice.
"I come in peace," was what he said at first, and for a moment, the ghost of his past self was there with them, lurking in the lines of his body, in the grace of his pose. Then, the corner of his dark mouth curled up in a shrewd half-smile. Unlike the last time I was here. "And if my herd was starving, I would come here in peace, too. To even attempt launching an attack would be madness, considering that the Throat has the food. They're bound to be in better shape, and unless I was dead certain I could overwhelm them with sheer numbers, diplomacy would be my best bet.
"I'm assuming I come here as King of World's Edge. If Gaucho agreed to meet with me-" considering we have some history, "-I would make my case. My herd is starving, and we've heard there's plants in the Throat that thrive in the heat." His head cocked to one side. "There's two vital questions, though. The first one is, would this plant survive in another climate? The earth of the Edge is different. The second one is, would Gaucho's herd survive and thrive on shared resources? After all, he has no obligation to help us—least of all if it would risk the well-being of his own herd.
"There are only two things I could offer, aside from my heart and I'm not ready to part with that yet. I would offer the services of my Glaziers-" and whores, by the sound of that sentence, idiot "-for whatever need the Throat may have, even if it means creating weapons to be used against us. That, we can deal with, if it means surviving for now. If not interested in that, I would outright beg for his help in exchange of a debt, to be cashed in at any time." But don't make me do that. And besides, you don't want to do it either. I'm not exactly known for keeping my promises. He glanced at Kahlua. He wasn't sure he was convincing anyone. He was just.. rambling. Yeah.
"If it is probable the plant would survive in the Edge, I would try to barter mainly for offshoots and seeds. Unless I held off coming here until it was almost too late, we should be able to survive on what meager rations Helovia can offer until the plants are able to sustain us. If they would not survive in the Edge, the only reasonable solution would be to temporarily relocate my herd, either into the Throat itself, or to the shore opposite of it—to share resources with Gaucho's herd. Agreeing to such a thing would be an incredible kindness and honor." That he said with his pale eyes fixed on Gaucho. And then.. he wasn't sure what else he could say.
"Though, really, I'd prefer to just get a rain dancer. So maybe that's why I'm here—looking for someone who can make rain." Slowly, he shook his head. That wasn't the task. He was derailing. He wouldn't even have been here in the first place if Helovia came into a drought.. unless it was as Kahlua had stated, and no Gods, no magic.
"And, to be completely honest.. of course, I would have a small, stealthy strike team ready should negotiations fail. A night raid to attempt to take what we need to survive." He shrugged. "I could get even nastier, too, trying to catch something that is dear to Gaucho and hold hostage in exchange for what we'd need." He set his gaze on Gaucho again. "But I would come in peace, first. And that is truth."
lord, the demands you're making-
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .
