Something continued to course through my veins, running a marathon, even though the sun itself settled down to chill for the night. My eyes were glued to you and the way your fluffy side rose gently with your breathing (I swear your snore in every form you take but that’s beside the point). I bit my lip as I watched you, worried about—lots of things, I guess, the sand that was getting in your fur, how utterly drained you had ended up by the end of today.

But I was proud too. I was…I was proud of that moment you had back there, with that other companion. Did that mean I liked you starting fights? Well, nah, not really (okay yeah I’m a hypocrite whatever). Did that mean you did a good thing? I wasn’t sure yet; I could feel that you weren’t trying to hurt anyone when you launched yourself from me, but that didn’t necessarily mean that you were fighting the good fight.

It was still something major for you, though—a grand moment, a notch in your belt, a stone in your path. And I was biting my lip as I watched you sleep a deep, adorable sleep, but I couldn’t stop the edge of my mouth curving upwards just a little bit or keep that little trickle of pride from seeping from my eyes.

*"You have to be careful."*

I glanced at Jiji—and the tiny smile fell at once cuz oh god I hated looking at her, seeing the mess in her mane and her eyes and her face--something wrong all over her, just wrong, wrong, wrong. Beating wings and super-loud shrieks had kept my mouth shut and everything after that had distracted us from the Thing I wanted to ask so badly and now, in the quiet of the night, she wanted to talk about me. “He’s never done anything like this before,” I said in a voice just as low, my eyes finding your poofy little ass again on the ground, “I’ve never really had control over him before, now that I think on it,” I mused, biting that place in my lip again, “I mean….I teach him shit, I give him ideas, I tell him what’s stupid and what’s right—but he does his own thing and…”

I sighed and my shoulders started to sag with all this heavy shit we were talking about. “He ain’t…savage,” I tried to explain—then a bark of laughter escaped me. “Hell, I guess he is. In a way. Kinda like me except he’s—“ happy. But I stopped up short, swallowing that thing and the worry I might shoot into Jiji’s eyes. I leaned down and pressed my nose against your warm, fluffy stomach, right up close to you so I could hear your tiny snores. “He’s gonna be so sorry when he wakes up,” I murmured, “He…he wanted to meet you so bad…”

And you had. You had seen Jiji all throughout my head and memories and the dreams I never remembered (apparently I dream up wild shit but we ain’t talkin’ about that). And just like every other piece of me that I loved way too hard—you was fixin’ to love it too, with the same desperation that I had for each and every corner of my heart.

Too much like me.

I straightened up, my eyes still fixed on your sleeping body. But then Jiji was touching me, her lips pressed against my neck suddenly and a shiver went through everything and before I knew it I was swinging my neck towards her, to lift my head and gather her in my unthinking embrace.

*"I'm glad you're here."*

I breathed softly against her mane. “Glad I could see you,” I muttered—or rumbled—or growled, or something in the back of my throat.

*"Are you okay? It... he didn't hurt you?"*

I chuckled deeply and drew away from her. “Nah, but you know I go hard,” I said to her with a little smirk, “Besides, he’d never hurt me anyway. He’s an idiot and he’s too much like me but he’d never try that shit. He don’t…have the bones for it, anyway.” My voice lowered into a soft thing. “You’ll like Chico when you meet him,” I told her, “I promise.”

I looked into her face—into the wrong lines and the shadows that weren’t there before, the dullness in the crimson of her eyes. “…now,” I said, a steel thread wrapping itself around my tongue, “Tell me what’s hurt you.”




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*"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.





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*"Thank you."*

I felt a tremor in her body as she came close to me; the tone of her voice constricted my throat for a few seconds. “Yeah,” I answered her, barely a breath, as though I were afraid of scaring her off with the regular boom of my voice. Like she was spun glass or something even more fragile than that, precariously standing in my embrace, the slightest breeze a terror and a threat to her bones.

Delicate and precise—so poised ready to shatter, with nothing but my rough touch keeping her from the cold stones of the ground.

*"Why are you so skinny?"*

“I always lose weight in winter,” came the words spilling form my tongue; I heard them as though they were coming from far away, “this one is just a little harder, is all. I’m fine.” I breathed it into her mane, my cheek resting against the beating warmth I could feel under her skin. I clung to that warmth, breathing evenly—in and out, in and out—trying and failing to wash the acid taste in my mouth, the bile that was threatening to rise in my throat and lurch everywhere, ugly and black like the lie I had just told.

The lie. The very first outright lie I had ever let escape my mouth. The first lie I had ever told my Jiji—woven without a second thought and escaping so smooth and casual from my throat, it felt natural. Right. Easy. And yet, even though the words had left me, their shadow remained and embedded itself in my flesh, both inside and out—poisoning me, shriveling something dignified inside me so that it curled up in its own corner, ashamed and wounded by what had happened. It felt like some ancient wordless covenant had been shattered on a stone, thrown by a babe in the heat of a tantrum, smashed beyond all repair by a few flippant phrases. I knew, almost at once, that I hated, hated, hated to lie for any reason, at any time.

There was just one thread of humanity keeping it all together, keeping the bile in the back of my throat and my whole body steady and strong around Jiji: I couldn’t take Jiji to that place with a clear conscience. I couldn’t take her to the tears flowing brokenly from my eyes as I laid confused and shattered atop an icy-white body; I couldn’t take her to the nightmares that still plagued me, the doubts and the fears that clutched my back at all hours of the night. Her father had just died and—well look at her. How could I saddle her with my shitty problems when she was so broken down (and fragile) by the death of her father?

How could I do that to her?

How?

So…I lied.

I lied and I…I touched her with my lips again, burrowing into her mane and tugging on a lock there to get her to follow me. “C’mon, Ji,” I said gently walking along the shore of a lake that hadn’t been there before, “Let’s find some place to rest, hmm? You…you look tired…”


@[Ranjiri]



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The longer I stood in her shadow, her warmth still radiating into my skin, the more my blood bubbled with that disgusting sledge that was left after I lied in her face. It didn’t sink away or evaporate or anything—it just sat there hardening into a plaque that started gumming up my arteries and veins, making my chest hurt and my heart pound thickly and my sweat come out cold, a trickle behind my ear she couldn’t quite see. I breathed through it, though; I’ll be honest and say I kinda outdid myself. I didn’t know I could be so cool and calm when my whole everything was fucking up.

I gave a tight grin when she mentioned you—when she worried about leaving you behind. “He’ll be fine,” I said in a quiet voice, “He’s not that much of a baby an’ I don’t feel like waking him up just to move somewhere else.” I wanted you to get as much sleep as you could. I could feel how bone-tired you were after your little altercation and I knew this would be good sleep for you. It’s the kind that makes your ass wider even as you dream, making your bones and muscles stretch and settle in place.

Lookit you, growin’ up ‘n shit.

We kept walking together--and Jiji asked me a question that pulled the noose tighter around my neck. I swallowed and we walked and she stammered and we walked some more and I knew if I told another lie it would kill me on the spot, it would drop me and my blood would rot and she'd be crying over a lifeless, useless hunk failed flesh.

"I tell you everything, Jiji," a voice was saying (everything you need to know), "But you already know that, right? You know how tired you sound right now?" There was a chuckle and a touch on her shoulder, a gentle one with the tip of my nose, and I don't think I've ever felt so miserable.

It didn’t take long to find a place that might suit both me and Ji. It was the side of a sanddune, a bowl-like suppression dug into the side of it. I saw it and immediately my insides burned and I felt sick and pissed because I’d never seen such a huge pile of literal shit in my life. Fuck sand.

It was perfect.

It was soft—it was snuggly—it was almost enough punishment that would keep me from feeling like crawling out of my own skin. Every grain would be like a whiplash getting stuck in the crack of my ass and I welcomed the torment. I welcomed a gritty pit of hell if it meant the lips that let me lie would accidently chew/eat/spit up tiny particles of sand.

“Here, this looks…okay…” I said, going up to the sanddune and settling myself in the depression, leaving just enough room for Jiji to lay down beside me. My nerves jumped and screamed and there was a visceral rejection from me from the way I could feel the sand already creeping into places it will never, ever, ever belong. Take it, something chanted in my head, with a voice that was mine and not at all, take it, you piece of shit, you fucking lump of literal, burnable garbage; take it and let it get all up under your tail and I hope you choke on it in your sleep you awful, misERABLE, DISGUSTING, SNAKE-TONGUED, SHITTY LITTLE—

“You coming?” I asked, looking up at Jiji with a playful smirk.


@[Ranjiri]



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*"The last time we did this we were so small…remember?”*

I smiled as she lowered herself against me, settling down in the pit of hell sand with me. “Yeah…” I said, rough and preoccupied, cuz the absolute last time we had done something like this—I had woken up to a larger body and even larger confusion and, looking back on it now, it was probably the first real trauma of my life and thinking about that moment still sends chills down my spine and makes my stomach flip with a sick twist.

It wasn’t helping right now, either. Cuz there was a part of me that wanted me to focus on the sand digging into my side, to really feel the awfulness sinking into my skin, getting stuck in my joints ‘n shit, really, really feeling the burn and the horror of it all. But there was this other piece of my heart that I couldn’t control and it was wanting to bask in Jiji’s warmth and the way she smelled and the way her mane would get caught in my face and all up in my mouth if I wasn’t paying attention close enough. And that was painful anyway cuz it was making me remember about when we were so small and it was an awful feeling, a feeling of nostalgia and incredible loss I couldn’t let go of for the life of me. 

I draped my neck across her as she lay down, holding onto her and feeling her heartbeat as I tried calming the rising bile in my stomach. We were supposed to be going to sleep; she didn’t need to know that was a thing that was hard for me to grasp right now. 

“…hey,” I asked in a low voice, grumbling against her skin as I finally let those memories of our childhood wash over me, “What…what do you think would’ve happened if…” The question got stuck, or maybe I just wasn’t sure how to build it right, “If I…if…y’know…Pa wasn’t—“

--a GOD--

--a rapist--

--a user--

“…y’know, Pa?” And I hoped she’d know what I meant. I really, really didn’t want to explain these things to her and relive them in that kind of detail.  I just wanted to sleep. I just wanted her to sleep. Cuz—y’know, she needed it.



[yay for broken table codes YAY]



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