The swamp was quiet, still, sweet. There was no cauldron’s bubble of the deep green murk, no eerie wail of lost wanderers in the mists. Naught but the relics strung up in the trees, gently swaying, welcomed the starry figure that waited at the periphery. The girl might have looked like a trespasser, her fleeting glances and flighty steps betraying her nerves, but in truth she was once the minder of this place. In the past she would have considered Tinea Swamp her home, but now she feels like an apologetic lover returning after an argument. As her little feet draw her deeper into the swamp, her swamp, she thinks of what to say after so many seasons apart.
Hello, Rannvieg. Thanks for naming me one of your Champions. Oh, sorry for running off on you like that; I have an issue with titles, you see, and rather than disappoint you as I undoubtedly pull blunder after blunder I thought I would run off chasing whispers instead. It seemed more reasonable. I hope you understand. You can’t trust witches, after all.
Though it wasn’t as simple as all that, it was a good synopsis of what had transpired: the pressure of a new title – no, of expectations to perform beyond one’s limits -- had instilled a fear in Yana that she had not been ready to confront at the time. She was so young then. So alone. Fleeing from her problems had seemed like the best idea, but that had meant abandoning her post as the resident swamp hag. All she had ever wanted was to uncover the secrets in her beloved, putrid bog; is it really any wonder what brought her back?
Ensnared by her thoughts, the little witch doesn’t notice the stagnant pool of water until a black foot plunges in. Odd. I don’t remember you here. Enough time has passed that her usual routes have become completely overgrown, flooded, changed. She no longer knows where to put her hooves, which bogs lie about their true depths and which areas to avoid being snapped up for supper. Her movements are tense and her chest burns with the need to cough, but she will not relent – she is not safe yet, not until she finds her obelisk.
White tresses streak behind her as she wades into the water, gathering up all manner of debris. Normally the little witch would pay no mind to such nuisances, but a small smile creeps across her maw for the first time in ages; she hardly deserves them, especially after her hasty departure, but there is comfort to be had in gifts from a friend. She holds her head a little higher, her strides growing bolder with a bolster of confidence. I’ve missed you too.
Stitch by stitch I tear apart.
If brokenness is a form of art,
I must be a poster child prodigy.
There is the sudden sound of brittle tree limbs and branches snapping and breaking nearby that ruin the peaceful tranquility of the swamp, a crash of limbs that fall from the sky in a tangled, heaping mess of thin legs, pale bodies, and furled wings. Two voices shout as one when they crash into the water, creating a wave of swamp water and peat moss that soak anything within a radius of five, unfortunate feet.
As one, the two bodies emerge from the pool of churning water, spluttering and trying to catch their breath. One is laughing, his head thrown back as taupe waves and curlicues stick to his face and down the expanse of his sodden neck, the sheer length of his hair practically drowning him from any surely bewildered onlookers. There is a broad, toothy grin on his face despite the fact that his hair is covering his eyes, obscuring his view, but he’s still laughing, his chest heaving from exhilaration, from joy, from passion, from elation, head swiveling about above the water to where he knows his brother is floundering and probably brooding.
“That was fun!” Erd bellowed on a chortle, his raucous laughter echoing through the still, silent bog around. A warm touch caresses his cheek, gentle, affirmative, loving, and suddenly the hair in front of his eyes is being brushed away with a tender touch and his unveiled eyes meet the identical, concerned stare of his twin brother. No words need to be said between them, for Erd can read his brother easily without them.
Erd’s laughter fades into the evening air, sobered slightly by the concern that pinches Ard’s brow. He reaches out and presses a chaste kiss to his brother’s cheek, a gentle act of affirmation that he’s well, that he’s unharmed, that their little stunt was just as exciting and crazy as he had been hoping it was and just maybe he wants to try it again. A second look from Ard has his excited expression faltering just a little bit more, this one stern..
“Okay, okay. Maybe it wasn’t perfectly executed but hey, we almost made it. A little more practice and we’ll get that dive-bomb technique mastered. Right? Imagine how impressed Mari and Theo will be.”
Ard’s ears pin back and he grimaces with a raspy comment of his own and Erd immediately feels apologetic as his water-logged ears absorb what his twin said. “I know, I’m sorry. Next time we’ll just be more careful, okay?”
Maybe it was best if they held off on the dive-bomb techniques. Finally tearing his eyes away from Ard, Erd glanced around, wide turquoise eyes trying to place just where they had fallen. It wouldn’t take too long to get back to the capitol, and while sore and battered he physically felt fine enough to maybe attempt flying home. Hopefully his twin wouldn’t tell Marisol, or else they’d never hear the end of it, and-
“Oh.”
Erd’s turquoise eyes, bright and joyful, crossed over someone who stood nearby. They weren’t too close, not close enough to have been a casualty of their clumsy mixup mid-air, but surely they had heard the sound of their collision and subsequent fall through the canopy?
Wading in the water as she was, the petite warlock couldn’t see very much of her, but what he could see was striking. A pelt of sleek ebony mottled with stars, long tresses of ivory that floated in the water around her, and piercing eyes of moonlight. Realizing that they may have startled her, the ivory warlock offered the stranger a sheepish, apologetic grin, very aware of the way that Ard waded through the water to press himself up completely against Erd’s side and glare beneath his lashes at the star-strewn stranger.
“Hi! Um. Wow, sorry if we scared you! And… You know. Splashed you.” Never mind the fact that she was already wading in a nearby pool. Laughing a little awkwardly, Erd did his best to ignore the embarrassed flush resting high on his cheeks and waited to see if she would grant them an answer.
Thread by thread I come apart.
If brokenness is a work of art,
Surely this must be my masterpiece.
There was a moment of genuine terror as they collided in the air, their lanky limbs knocking into one another with bruising force as their bodies collided, petite chests crashing into each other with enough momentum to knock the breath from both of their lungs. Their wings flail and flounder in the air, desperate to separate themselves from their tangle of limbs but they can’t, they aren’t coordinated enough in a breath’s moment like this. A tiny little slip-up on Ard’s part ruined everything and then they were falling, down, down, down, crashing through trees and branches that groaned and snapped beneath their combined weight until-
Water.
Chest heaving as he and his brother crash into the awaiting waters of the Tinea Swamp, Ard gasps at the impact of cold water, hating the way that it swallows him whole and threatens to drown him. Foul tasting water immediately spills into his mouth and he gags, spitting it up, desperately fighting to right himself in this pool of stagnant water and moss that they had literally fallen into.
Rage and indignation burn within his breast as he surfaces, heaving large breaths, coughing and spluttering and legs and wings both flailing as he tries to find purchase. The water is too deep here and so he tosses his head back to shake his sopping wet forelock out of his eyes and it flies up with a wet splat! against his ears, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are searching for Erd, his heart pounding his chest that he fucked it all up, that he hurt his brother, that he got him back just to lose him again but this time at his own ineptitude…
But Erd is laughing, boisterous, full-body chortles that shake his entire frame as Ard’s terrified stare finds him. He seems completely fine and uninjured, thank Vespera, the sound of his laughter a calming balm to his terror, and for a moment Ard selfishly commits the sight of his brother to memory; the messy tangle of his mane and forelock obscuring his face save for his grey muzzle that pops out from beneath the mess of taupe curls, the wide grin on his lips, the way he seemed so carefree and elated…
Allowing a smile to cross his own lips, the younger warlock crosses the sparse distance between them and reaches out to affectionately brush the matted mess of Erd’s mane and forelock from his gaze. There is a touch of concern that he allows to show a genuine interest and worry for his twin’s well-being as their identical eyes meet, but Erd, bless him, is quick to soothe his rising worry with a chaste and wet kiss to his cheek. Ard rolls his eyes and grimaces in good nature.
Really, it isn’t surprising to hear that Erd was pleased with their efforts, even if it stung in Ard’s heart with guilt. His ears pin back and he grimaces once more, positively sneering as he says; “... They won’t be proud of you if you break your neck. This is a dumb idea.”
One miscalculating was all it took to send them careening down into the swamp. Yes, aerodynamics was a big part of the Halcyon, but they weren’t warriors. They were messengers. They would have no part in any fighting other than swiftly and efficiently delivering notes and orders between their commanding officers, but Erd, blast him, could be really fucking persuasive when he put his mind to something and Ard hadn’t wanted to disappoint him.
So, they tried. But Ard didn’t want to again. Not when they had come close to potentially breaking their very necks.
Before more could be said on that front, however, Ard is very aware of the way his brother’s body stiffens as a soft ‘oh!’ escapes his lips. Following his stare, the petite warlock spots another nearby; colored in ebony and ivory and speckled with gleaming stars, Ard immediately dislikes her. He shifts closer to his twin, pressing himself up intimately against his brother’s side, recalling vividly how it had taken no time at all for a stranger to come and steal Erd away to the Night Court…
And oh, this woman screamed of the Court of Stars.
Beneath his silver lashes Ard glares, the cool, vivid turquoise of his eyes burning in vehemence. One wrong move and he would tear this stranger apart.
