Snow falls. The heart beats. The sun rises day after day. And, still, Michael cannot make any place or any person feel like home.
On one side of him stands the sparkling city perched like a bird on the edge of the world. It is far enough that he wouldn’t see it at any other angle, and Michael can’t pick out one building from another, one street from the many streets that sing with light and music. On his other side looms the mountain range, dark and cold and howling even in the pale winter light. The ground beneath him is white, marred only by Michael’s scattered footprints and the wet but snowless earth beneath each tree.
Michael breathes; he is watching the vapor rise and dissipate. For a moment he is at peace – not spinning wildly through space, not trapped in the fog of his newfound mortality – he can feel nothing but the cold and numbness of eternity with its hands on his ankles, begging him to come back. If he is a death seeker it is at times like this.
If he is a death seeker, it is why he angles his head up the mountainside and wonders if the snow would make it that much harder to climb up, up, up. He imagines standing at its peak and plucking stars from the sky, cupping each one close before asking where all his things have gone, where he has gone.
Michael has moments where he is okay.
Michael has precious few moments that remain like that.
Today he doesn’t have time to overthink, doesn’t have the chance to fall back into the old and painful routine of a downward spiral. Michael pulls his numbness close just as he sees a set of hoofprints in the snow and forgets to hold tight, so for once it falls away from him in heavy sheets. He is following the trail, alone with the snow crunching underfoot, until he isn’t.
They swing into view as Michael rounds a corner, thick mane cold and wet over his face. “Oh,” he says before a pause that lasts too long, “hey.”
Michael sees twins and he thinks of Salem, of Cyrus. He thinks of the tragedy that tore them apart. He thinks of the Dark. He offers them a placid smile. “Do you uh… hi. I’m Michael.”
I will not wake for living
I’ll come to you in dreams
There was something alluring and captivating about the snowy mountainscape. Memories, both precious and unwanted, tended to drift in to their minds during the coldest of the winter seasons. This was no different. Perhaps that was why they had wandered into the Arma mountains, not far from the familiar hills of Terrastella but far enough to be prominent.
Erd’s breath left him a wispy vapor, disappearing in the evening air. Snow fell lazily from the skies to collect upon their backs and wings, blending almost perfectly with the ivory of their identical colors, but the thickness of their winter coats prevented the icy chill to truly set in. Like twin spectres they drifted through the trees, the small size of their prints in the snow akin almost to a deer. Hardly did they look equine, so thin and narrow, but such things were expected of pegasi their petite size.
“It kind of feels like we’re back home, huh?” With every word that escaped his lips, wisps of vapor ascended upward. The older warlock’s eyes flicked towards his twin brother, the depths of his turquoise gaze bright and happy.
Home. It wasn’t a happy place, not really, but there was something sentimental about the aesthetic of their homeland. The mountainous terrain, snow-capped trees and peaks. The cold, frigid scent of winter everlong upon the breeze, ripe and crisp. Erd knew that his brother was not as much of a fan about the landscape as he was, but Ard put up with it if only to make him happy. Yes, it reminded him of ‘home’, but here, they were free. No one enslaved them here. They were not prisoners and weapons of war, held in the merciless, cruel grip of a maniacal rebel leader. This air did not carry the same putrid darkness and promise of pain.
Their walk was quiet, the only interruption a gentle, casual murmuring between the two of them. It didn’t seem like very long of their wandering, weaving through the snow covered trees that the sound of crunching snow caught their ears. Something was approaching. Erd turned his head around to face whatever it was, paused mid-stride, small ears swiveling forward to better hear whoever, or whatever it might be. He tilted his head, turquoise eyes blinking slowly. “Hello?”
His voice carried easily enough along the frigid air, but he did not have to wait long. A golden shape came around the corner, a bright and stark contrast to the rather monochromatic tones and colors around them. A curtain of matted ivory hair clung to him, dampened by the steady snowfall, and he seemed somewhat surprised to see them. Perhaps just as startled as they were to see him. That look of surprise was quick to pass, however, but it did appear that the golden stranger did not know how to approach them or what he should say. Eventually the words came, but they were stuttering and awkward, and not too unlike the very way that Ard spoke.
The older warlock grinned a little, letting his shoulders relax. “Hi,” he responded jovially enough, “We didn’t think anyone else would be out in this snow! Uh. I’m Erd. That’s my brother Ard.” Introductions were quickly had, because Erd knew his brother would not be offering his own form of greeting. Deftly he went on, all boyish charm and sociable grace. “Good to meet you! Do you live here?”
I will be there in silence
You will know what it means
There was a lot that Ard put up with to ensure that his brother was happy, but Erd did the same for him, so he didn’t find it right to complain. Not that he could honestly deny his brother anything. Still, venturing up towards the Arma Mountains to wander along the snowscape and forests was mildly unsettling, if only for the fact that it reminded him vividly of the atmosphere and setting of Luminous.
Yes, there was a strange nostalgia about it, but they had far more terrible memories within Luminous than happy. They had always been together, yes, but the cruelty and pain they had been exposed to had left a lasting impression on both of them. Regardless, Erd wanted to go wander the mountains, and who was Ard to tell him ‘no’? He couldn’t. One look at his brother’s pleading, pouting face and the younger warlock was undone, swayed by his brother’s damnable charm and pitiful appearance.
So, they wandered, ducking behind rocky outcroppings and weaving between large, thick pine trees as the snow fell down lazily upon them. Ard remained close enough to his twin brother that their sides and wings could be touching at all time, and throughout their venture they made small, menial conversation. Really they spoke about nothing and everything, catching up on each other’s lives despite the fact that they hadn’t been apart since being unceremoniously dropped into Novus years ago.
’Do you think Theodosia and Marisol will ever kiss?’ Erd had asked rather randomly, and Ard had responded by rolling his eyes.
’They’re both emotionally constipated. I doubt it. Marisol seems pretty ‘uptight’ about the whole damn thing. I doubt she even knows Theodosia likes her like that.’ The response had been quick and blunt, rather monotone despite his genuine curiosity.
More conversation had followed, about the Halcyon and the recent new additions, the Dusk Court proper, and the winter festivities. Ard hoped he would have enough sticks of charcoal to participate in the drawing events, and made a mental note to run off and find some before the festivities were under full swing. The brotherly camaraderie and peace that settled between them, walking with nimble steps through the snow and always touching, was inevitably dashed, as it usually was.
The heavy sound of crunching footsteps in the snow caught his ears, and Ard froze. He turned his head, teeth barred and ears pinned, appearing far less jovial and welcoming than his twin brother. He shifted, his lithe body sidling closer to Erd’s side for both protection and defending, and suddenly they were not alone. A golden figure stepped from behind the trees, golden and glowing almost like the sun. His ivory hair was a mess from the wet snow, and his look of surprise upon seeing them was quick to pass. Immediately Ard understood. He had been following their tracks. Paranoia bloomed within his breast and he glanced momentarily towards Erd, not surprised in the least to see his far more engaging, charismatic brother grinning at the golden stranger like an idiot.
One day that trusting nature would get him in trouble, Ard just knew it.
Growing quiet and sullen, the younger twin fell back and refused to participate in the brief discussion, pressed up entirely against Erd’s right side. The stranger’s name was Michael. Ard didn’t care. He had been enjoying the peace and quiet, the nice, quiet little bonding moment between two brothers. Why did this always happen?
Michael first sees their startled faces, then Ard’s scowl, and says “Sorry,”
Michael is a popped balloon, all the air rushing out of him at once, a breath that turns to a snort that turns to a sigh. Sometimes his life feels like one long sigh.
There is no right way to do anything. This is one of the few and simple rules that Michael lives by. There is no right way to rule, to love, or to settle. There is no way to apologize that does not feel pandering. There is no way to live as long as Michael and escape with every part of yourself. He may tell himself this to stay alive in the first place.
He is swimming with the things that he cannot say and has not said while Erd introduces himself, pale and vivid and lovely. Michael’s smile is long-suffering but genuine.
He angles his head toward Ard as he’s also introduced but has already decided not to pry. He does offer him a kind inclination of his head but, based on the reaction he’s already gotten, Michael doesn’t expect it to be reciprocated or even accepted.
This would not be the first time.
“It’s nice to meet you. Really, it is.”
Erd is a lot like Michael, or at least whatever echo of Michael’s old self is still bouncing around his ribcage. He has perhaps never been that driven in his whole life, but the golden horse recognizes the easy trust that pours from him in waves. Ard is probably correct. Michael is the way that he is because he has been too open for too long and inevitably someone stuck their dirty hands right into all the raw parts.
Michael is still an exposed nerve, as inviting as ever when he can remember how to be, and there’s no doubt he’d lay down his life for anyone that needed it, but he has still paid his price.
Anyway, he thinks. Anyway,
“I’m… usually out in the snow, if I’m honest.” he says. His voice is apple cider and cable knit sweaters and the oranges and yellows of fall. He has never quite belonged to winter. Michael shivers, visibly.
“I suppose I do live here. Do you?” he asks, then glances at the brother packed tight against Erd.
“Sorry, before you answer that,” Michael raises his head to stop pause the conversation, “I don’t want to interrupt. Should I go?” I would say that Michael is noble, offering to walk away without question (and he would, oh he would), but if he had really wanted to, he should have drifted off already.
I will not wake for living
I’ll come to you in dreams
Erd knew immediately that his brother’s brazen hostility and blatant displeasure had an effect on the golden stranger with the long, long white hair. The older warlock scowled and shoved Ard with his shoulder, receiving a stern look in response. He ignored it.
Oh, he knew what was going through his brother’s mind. Ard was nothing if not distrusting and paranoid, and he surely didn’t like the fact that the stranger had been following their tracks within the snow in order to find them. Erd honestly couldn’t blame him. Their lives hadn’t been easy, but he also understood that you couldn’t place blame on everyone for the actions of a select few. So far, Novus was nothing like Luminous. The citizens were kind, to a degree, and had not acted aggressive or malicious towards the twins since they had come here a few years go…
But that could change. Erd was not so oblivious to think that it never would. One day, they would encounter those within Novus who would change such optimistic thinking. Rumors were already spreading of Raum the usurper, who had killed the Queen of Solterra and stolen her crown. The young warlock hoped that they would never meet him.
Letting out a breath, Erd dared a step forward, his petite hooves sinking into the snow as he moved. “Don’t mind my brother, he’s just an ass. It’s alright; you don’t need to go anywhere and you don’t need to apologize. I promise.” Letting his lips pull up into a wide, jovial grin, doing his best to move on from the lingering uncertainty that had since filled the air, the boy took a few more steps towards Michael through the snow until they were only a few feet apart.
Michael was far taller than the twins, but then again, everyone in Novus was. Wings tipping back and shoulders rolling, the older brother did his best to appear as tall as possible, still grinning that goofy, foolish smile. “The snow isn’t so bad I guess, not if you’re used to it.” They most certainly were. Luminous had been a frozen land of mountains and forests. “At least it’s pretty to look at.”
“We don’t live here. We actually live in Terrastella, in the Dusk Court, but we’re actually on our way to visit a friend. Moira. Do you know her?” Surely Michael would, if he lived within these mountains. He would know the Emissary of Denocte, right? “We’re just passing through on our way to see her and thought we wouldn’t mind a scenic route. Our home was a lot like this… Snowy and, er, mountain-y.”
I will be there in silence
You will know what it means
‘Mountain-y’ wasn’t a word, but Ard didn’t correct him.
Instead, the younger brother remained tight-lipped and stationary, his hooves rooted in the snow in a stubborn, pouting sort of way. He didn’t like watching Erd trot through the snow closer to the stranger, eyeing up the golden man Michael with his fluttering lashes and wide turquoise eyes. A peak of foolish jealousy struck his heart, but Ard was quick to stamp it down.
Michael didn’t deserve his brother.
He seemed nice enough, sure. Meek, mellow, and thoughtful, timid in the best of ways. The guy seemed like a real pushover, the way he cowered and hunched over himself as though he was shorter than they were. Ard was fairly confident that he could shove the larger man away, should the need arise, size be damned. All Michael had to do was look at his brother wrong, and Ard would let him have it.
Typically, he wasn’t so hostile. They were pacifists, needing peace instead of hostility and picking pacifism over violence. Something about this situation was simply unnerving and rubbed him the wrong way, a feeling of paranoia digging into his skull and setting there, resting and waiting and reminding him to never let his guard down, to always be prepared, to wait, to watch… Pacifists though they might be, there was no doubt in his mind that Ard would do anything for his brother. No foe was too strong, no enemy too scary, no task too much. For Erd, he would do anything, because his brother was his everything.
So, letting Erd chat up the new guy who looked like sunshine personified but sure as hell didn’t act like it, Ard held his tongue and simply watched, waiting for the inevitable wrong move.
