am lingering for too long in this place. I should have moved on from the festival, which has little to offer me, but there is a part of me beneath the untamed and the savage that remembers how much I once enjoyed these sorts of events, though at one time I hadn’t understood them. There is a part of me, uncaged and free, that remembers planning them for my own people and loving to see how they enjoyed the result. Somehow, I wonder if there is any part of me that is actually left like that.
I weave around bodies like a river cuts around a stone and pause before a booth when something catches my eye. The table is dressed in Solterran colors and modest decor, but laid out upon it on trays and plates are sun cakes, candied cactus and agave-smoked sugar cubes. The familiar treats bring a memory to the surface and I find myself looking for the dark skinned, sand-colored eyes of the man I had once met selling such goods in this very meadow so long ago. How long has it been?
He is not there, of course. The food laid out upon the table is no doubt a small sample of regular delicacies from the court of sun. They are still too sweet for my taste, but I have lingered so long at the table that I purchase a cake and take it with me. I cannot stomach it, there is some big wide emptiness in me that cannot be filled with food. Instead, when I find a young boy loitering among the tables of food looking like he could use an extra meal I smile and offer the cake to him. His eyes widen in excitement and as he prances away I can already see him shoving it into his mouth.
Perhaps, I think, loping along like a wild cat, I will make my way south instead. I wish to remember what the ocean sounds like when it lashes against the shore. It used to be that I never went to bed without the sound of the sea in my ears, and now It has been so long since I have heard it properly, or seen it even. This is just not where I am meant to be.
jealousy, turning saints into the sea
swimming through sick lullabies, chocking on your alibis
but it's just the price i pay, destiny is calling me
open up my eager eyes, 'cause i'm mr. brightside
The beast moved silently through the jolly atmosphere, his expression carefully neutral. Well-built limbs carry a body built with sleek muscle defined by years of physical ability and prowess, rather than good genetics. The scars that are visible beneath the stripes and dots of his form are mostly hidden beneath the cloak that wafts around him with each step, and the noticeable scarred brand upon his cheek is carefully obscured by the leather guard over his face. His gaze however is less neutral, sweeping over the multi-colored tents with a small bit of melancholy. When had been the last time he'd seen such peace? It felt like ages since the times of when the kingdom he came from could exist in such peace.
A tyrant king that would beckon brother to fight brother. To have fathers turn on daughters, and husbands forced to send their wives to slaughter. A man angered so violently to magic, he had outlawed the use of it . . . And then came the day he, a once proud and devoted knight to the king had been branded a traitor due to his own concubine being discovered to hold magic. She had pleaded so desperately for him to let her run, that she would leave and never be seen again . . . they both knew the outcome waiting for her before the king, and he had put his loyalty to his king before his loyalty to his woman. And he'd delivered her for judgement, only to be judged himself. Sent away. A traitor. A villain. His beloved king had turned on him, and it had cost him everything.
Away from that world, Vreis's mind was all over the place. Here in Novus, magic was treasured, it hummed in the very air, and others used it freely with out caution, without fear. His own little doves, missing from his company - the reason he had come to novus, had been powerful in their own magic. He had used and abused it in the name of the Rebellion, he had not condemned them for the use of it . . . Even Shaye had whispered about the potential to garner magic in this land to take back with them . . . but if Vreis was honest, there was something about the peace here that was . . . awakening.
He hated that, but, in the time he had come to be in Novus, even as he kept to himself, he could find that hate in his heart soothed. That desire for power was dwelling, the need to prove himself was forgotten - after all who did he have to hate here, who did he have to prove himself to here? And then Shaye would report, and the reminder of what they had to go back to was brought to the front of his mind. There was no point in losing himself in the peace of this place, no point in conforming. He had a job to do, two wayward soldiers to locate, to bring back to the front lines. He had a tyrant king to kill, and . . . he hated the way he wanted to succumb to the peace here.
The stallion hardened himself, muzzle set into a frown, and he turned, his cloak flaring out, cords of locks bouncing against his neck, sharpened antlers broadcasting a hard life of battle just as well as the ease he wore the rapier strapped to his side. The rebel leader snorted, and stormed back towards the exit, his gaze distasteful upon the environment at the way it tempted to peace and celebration. He was supposed to be here for a job . . . this land was making him weak. He had no place here, he didn't belong here. Why had he even come in the first place.
His ears pin back briefly, before he shakes his head, and is suddenly cut off by a young child racing in front of him, a sweet being shoved in his muzzle. A child so oblivious to the pains of the earth that it suddenly felt like lead settling in his belly. How many children had he made orphans in his war efforts. Were his actions truly justified, why did Novus have him second guessing everything he had done. He was a noble knight, so why had he stopped looking at his reflection weeks ago? Vreis glances about briefly, making his way towards the outer shop of tents, with a shake of his head, voice gruff and low, "Anywhere but here . . . I'd rather be anywhere but here." His doves may be among those tents now . . . .
But Vreis had no desire to search them out, he had far too much on his mind; anyway. And the peaceful joy of this event only made it worse.
pace along in the same direction that the young boy had run off to, hoping to free myself from the crowd. The further the sun progresses along the sky, the more and more bodies that appear in the meadow, lining rows of shops and crossing back and forth like a swarm. At one time the press of bodies would not have bothered me, would not have made my skin crawl so violently. But they are too close and too many. It is clear that the festival had been the wrong decision for me.
I finally break free from the mass of equines and into a quieter area. I can see the boy racing off, having nearly run into some unsuspecting stranger. No doubt he is off to tell his friends or his family, whoever he may have, about the wonderful treat he had been given. A small smile turns up the corner of my lips unbidden. Children have always provided me with as much joy as they have pain. Seeing one so happy over something so simple warms me.
As each step brings me closer to freedom, they also bring me closer to the man, who I can now hear talking to himself. ”I’d rather be anywhere but here,” he mutters and I cannot help the snort that escapes me. I roll a shoulder beneath the blue scarf tucked around my neck. “You’re not the only one,” I say, almost idly, practically to myself. I have to lift my head to look at him, but there are still wild things in the storm sea of my eyes. His height does not bother me, nor does the armor he wears nor the multi-pointed antlers adorning his head. One could say I am similarly decorated for war, with stripes like a tiger and my own metal adornments.
“We must be the only equines in all of Novus who are not in the mood for a party,” my voice is low, smoky. I raise a brow as I push further away from the bustling behind me. There is nothing I would like more at this very moment but to be very far away from here. I can already imagine the ocean calling to me, the gentle caress of sea spray as it crashes against the cliffs, the air tangling the smell of salt and seaweed into my long hair. “Tell me then, where would you rather be?”
![[Image: 13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png]](https://file.toyhou.se/images/13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png)
