Luvena had spent most of her winter scavenging for what little grass she could manage to swallow, and slumbering within a bed she had built up in the fields. She had trampled down a bed of grass before the snow fell, and when it did, she used it to build up the sides. It kept the wind out, and though the snow was cold on her skin (Her hair was patchy at best in the colder months) it was better than the bitter gusts of wind. Herbs were hard to come by in the winter, and she had run out of stores rather quickly.
So she waited quietly for the snow to melt, and the sun to warm the earth so that new plants could spring in winters wake. The first day the snow thawed she had intended to go and collect herbs, replenishing both her personal stores and those she reserved for others. She had tried, but she was weak after the winter and had not made it far.
She spent the following weeks rebuilding what little strength she could. She forced herself to swallow mouthfuls of freshly sprung grass and to take walks to rebuild her endurance.
She caught sight of herself fin a puddle after a day of heavy rain. Her hips jutted like mountains, and her ribs threatened to burst through her skin. This was nothing new. But her mane was what caught her off guard. In Elysium, Picoro had combed it with his claws and wove it into braids and twists, to hide the thinning strands. Now, it was matted and tangled.
Earlier she had wandered the tinea swamp, picking her way through the boggy mess to find valuable herbs. Her first priority was feverfew, to ease the aching in her head. Than Lungwort and Borage. She navigated the swamp slowly, packaging the herbs in leaves, and clumsily tying them with long strands of grass.
Her three bundles complete she made her way to the hospital. Though it was not the first time she'd seen it, the structure impressed her. It reminded her of Herstal, the way it was woven with and between the trees. She made her way up the winding staircases, wheezing by the time she reached the top. She took a moment to catch her breath, before moving to unpack her herbs, and laying them on a shelf to dry.
She could hear others moving about within the hospital, hooves clopping against the softwood. She wondered if this time she would meet any of the other medics around.
She remembers a time when she was not so burdened with history. When she had existed without a world on her back, an atlas with shaking knees.
She remembers running, having to get away, to run, and just keep running, to never stop, even when her lungs felt like they were burning and all she wanted to do was give up. But she couldn’t, she couldn't stop running.
Because the second she would, when she would land in Murmuring Rivers, not only was Frostbane going to catch up with her, but so would the truth, and it would stare her in the face. And Elena, fiery, bold, brazen Elena, would be forced to face it. She couldn't accept the hand that fate had dealt her, the one thing, couldn't accept the one she was dreading. She refused.
And so she had ran, young hooves on the snowy terrain of winter. She had ran, heart beating in her ears, and just when she felt like she was going to keep running, keep running until she flew, she fell.
Crashed and burned.
Marcelo and Ori found her as the wave crashed over her, a puddle of tears, sobbing and suffocating in her sorrow, pulling at her in every direction, until she thought she was going to choke to death on the agony she felt. And there came a startling realization that maybe she didn't want to breathe again, but the air still flooded her lungs as she screamed and wailed that echoed through the winter landscape like some nightmarish dream.
She wants ore than anything for her father to find her, to tickle her with his nose and tell her he had simply been hiding and how much he loves. But never again. Never again would he say how he loves her, kiss her scraped knees, or tuck her in at night. It was all done, it was over, in the blink of an eye.
The first man she had ever known was dead.
She had stopped running.
She had sobbed.
“Dad.”
The slender golden mare with pale tendrils is thankful for spring. She had never been a girl of winter, finding the snow to be bland and the the cold to be spiteful. So often she would be found shivering, her golden coat shaking. Elena was a summer child, a tulip breaking through the snowy surface, desperate for a spring sun.
Glacier eyes look to the front of her, moving towards the hospital. So focused is she that she almost misses the woman who is breathing heavily walking by carrying her bundles of medicine and herbs. It takes her just a moment before she rushes after the girl inside the hospital. “Hi,” she says quickly, feet creaking on wooden floors. “Are you okay, you don't sound well,” she says, icy blue eyes scanning the planes of the girl’s body. “Do you need some help?” Elena, ever the helpful one. She blinks those pretty eyes of hers, letting them fall under dark, long lashes. Elena was still gaining her footing in this new land, and she would continue to reach her hand out to anyone who needed it. She has not lost her compassion yet, it remains resolute, as strong as the waterfall she grew up next to. “I’m Elena.”
* e l e n a
in the dark I’ll pray for the return of the light the sunflower daughter of benjamin and beylani
medic of dusk.
Though her days in Herstial were far behind her, she often thought back to them. A few years ago they had been horribly sad thoughts. About her husband, her mother, her father. The kingdom in flames, the ashes that flurried down behind them, as they made their retreat. Nowadays she remembered it differently. She remembered tender moments, where her mother dismissed the maids, oiling her coat and braiding her mane herself. Singing sweet Lullabies all the while. Or when her father taught her different things about the land around them. How to dig under tree roots to make a secret cavern. That one had come in handy back in the eternal woods, during the great storms.
Other memories were not as sweet. Her mother and father, whispering when they thought she couldn't hear, about how they didn't know what would happen to Herstal. After all, they didn't consider her a suitable heir. Not on her own at least. She was too frail. She wished her parents could have seen her, ruling Crucis. It had been alongside Oberon, but he had never patronized her, never pitied her. He valued her as a capable companion. They were able to rule together, without being a couple.
Her worst thoughts now were of her sons. Of the land she had called her second home, that she had watched, slowly crumble around her. Of her mate who had left, without a word, or a trace. She had no idea where Liatris was. Back in Elysium, he had stayed in The Red Waste, his birthplace, while She had gone back to the Eternal Woods. Her land, even though it wasn't hers anymore. And then Elysium crumbled... She still didn't know if he left before the land died or not.
Though it was against the rules of the dusk court to worship any other god besides its own, at night, secretly, she still prayed to Acrux and Vega under her breath. Wishing for Liatris' protection. She knew the punishments she may face if she were caught. But she couldn't give them up. One who had allowed her to have her son, and one who had saved her from her dying breath, for a little while at least.
It was Vega's named she had to stop herself from saying in surprise as the other mare came up behind her, dropping the feverfew leaf she had been about to lay on the shelf. Instead, a strangled noise came from her throat. "sorry" she murmured, in the breathy voice that always carried her words. Turning around she looked at the mare in front of her. A young mare, slightly shorter than herself, but far more well built. Exhausted, it took her a moment to register the mare's words. "I'm alright" she replied, a soft smile crossing her lips, pulling the skin tight over her face. "Just tired, is all. I'm Luvena. It's nice to meet you." Though she was tired of offering explanations to those in Novus, truth be told, the day had been long. It was the farthest she had pushed herself since the fall, and her body was feeling the effects of her journey."I could use a hand unpacking these though" she gestured to the half-unpacked bundles of herbs behind her.
They say those who forget history are damned to repeat it. So she remembers. She remembers with a haunting, aching clarity all the parts of them, good and bad.
(Good is the river, good is the way they loved her, good is her family. Bad is him taking her, him touching her, and her leaving.)
She remembers this, remembers all of them, says their names sometimes (to herself, soft, barely a whisper). She does not forget history.
Yet she repeats it.
She repeats it, this cycle, of giving her heart and falling in love, coming and going and it always hurts, but yet it fills her heart close to bursting. Because love makes her feel like she might claw her way out of the spiral, like she is something else, something more, than just the sum of her parts, that she is more than fire and flames.
She repeats it, she will always give her heart too freely (wont she?) because fate decries it, but also because Elena cannot live without it.
This is history, writ across her smiles and her sobs, written in ink and blood and venom.
Elena had cradled close to the demon, to the monster, and it everyone else between. The way she wraps her golden body around them, it is selfish, she says it is all for them, but as the girl made of fire slips away, all she leaves is scorched skin behind.
She does not come from a land where they worship gods and goddesses. In Elena’s home, Valerio had often spoken of some higher power that controlled their fate, but Elena’s family had always found strength in their ancestors, the ones they try to make proud. Elena does not seek to please the gods, but nor does she search to anger them. She is content to be.
“Oh, oops,” she says in surprise as some of the supplies drops from the other mare. “No, I should be the one to apologize, for surprising you like that,” she offers, giving her a smile too and hoping she hadn't frightened her. “I understand that,” Elena responds. Tired, yes, she knows that word, it is hidden behind the blue of her eyes and curve of her sleek muscles, there is an ache to sleep and forget the world. A wish Elena only gives into as dusk passes and night begins.
“Of course,” another offer, jumping in so eagerly to help, to make a friend, to throw herself into some sort of job, desperate for a distraction. “Are you another Medic then?” She asks, peering curiously out at the girl with glacial blue eyes. “I was a healer apprentice in my old home,” she says. Does Paraiso count as her old home? Or is it her old, old, old home? She has been to far too many places, sank roots in to too many lands that Elena isn't even sure she can find soil any more. She begins unpacking, finding words easily as she keeps her body busy. “I tried politics for a while, but I guess you always end up back where you being,” she says with a laugh. “Have you always been involved in healing, Luvena? Or is this a recent development?”
* e l e n a
in the dark I’ll pray for the return of the light the sunflower daughter of benjamin and beylani
medic of dusk.
But she was in Novus now. A place where she could make a new life. Yes, it meant starting over and proving herself again. Making everyone aware that she could hold her own, even though it took more effort than most. Making herself scarce and unseen during her bad days, until she knew those around her would respect her regardless of them. But it also meant that no one knew she had been robbed of her kingdom, not once but twice. Unless she chose to tell them, but even then she could choose to not have it define her.
"Of course not" she replied, brushing off Elena's apology. "I should have heard you coming, I just wasn't paying enough attention." She looked over the mare with dull tired eyes. She was clearly younger, more fit. She wondered how old she must seem. Only 9, but she probably looked 20. She felt it sometimes, with her shaking legs and stiff joints. She was grateful for the mare's help.
She simply nodded in response, not wanting to cut Elena off before she had finished speaking. Her bubbly energy was refreshing Once the young mare was done she formulated her reply, while placing the last leaf of feverfew on the shelf. She moved on to unpacking Lungwort next. "I've always been involved yes." she started "But it wasn't my first calling. I started in..." she hesitated. not wanting to say royalty "Politics. But when you are born a sickly child, and grow into a sickly adult, you see enough healers from all over that you pick up a thing or two. So I did that for a while, before I found my way back into politics, and then into judicial matters, and now here we are. back to healing" She smiled. She had lived through many pathways leading up to the one she walked now. Who knew, she could come to a crossroads again anytime.
She had finally caught her breath again, but she found her legs quickly getting shakier. Perhaps she should have stopped earlier in the day. She grabbed a leaf of feverfew and Lungwort for herself, grinding them harshly between her teeth before swallowing. "Do you mind unpacking the rest?" she asked, already bending her knees to settle on the wooden floor. "I know some healers have a specialty. Myself I'm far more knowledgeable in treating illnesses and infections than I am treating a break or heavy bleeding. Do you have one?"
“And then, from the shadows the King of Bloodvale leaped, mouth open and aimed at Valerio’s throat!” The filly shouts excitedly as Mina and Maren sit there with wide eyes and open mouths, enthralled with the tale of their grandfather that they knew so little about. Mina even manages gasp as Elena’s voice grows low with suspense. “It looked like this was the end of Valerio the Valiant.” Voice is somber. Elena had a gift for storytelling, she always had. Creating dragons out of boulders, mountains out of pebbles, oceans out of streams. “But then, just in the knick of time, Valerio produced a gust of wind so powerful that he was able to blow Cazador back to Bloodvale,” she says and the fillies’ eyes light up in triumph as Elena raises her head a little higher. “The wind was so powerful that some say it is still blowing today, and will keep blowing for all of eternity, trapping Cazador there so he may never return to Windskeep again,” she says with an affirmative nod of her head, thus concluding her story. Of course, this tale was far from the truth, but the girls had asked for a Windskeep story and Elena certainly couldn't tell them tales about the war and how sometimes, despite her parents shielding her, she saw the soldiers come back bloodied and broken. How every time her father left she thought maybe he wont come back. She couldn't tell them about how Val returned every day looking more tired and more ragged than the day before. So Elena tells them a story full of conquest and glory because she cant bare the truth any more and if she tells the fantasy enough, believes it hard enough, maybe it can become her new reality.
She looks tired.
This is what Elena thinks when she looks to the mare. But Elena quickly pivots her ears towards the mare as she answers her question. The gentle start of a conversation was refreshing to the sunflower girl. “Politics, really?” Elena asks suddenly curious, it was like a thirst parching her throat. Elena too understands the call of a healer. She had been a politician, a diplomat back in Beqanna, but her first calling had been a healer, an apprentice to Lovelace. She had given up that grace and art for the complication of politics and alliances. In a way, it felt good to be back where she started. “You must have lived so many experiences,” she says, admiring the wisdom that is worn on her skin, behind her eyes. No wonder she is so tired.
Elena smiles in response, her one way to tell her that she didn't mind. “Childbirth,” she says then. “I helped the healer in our herd deliver many children before we too branched out from the herd to help other expecting mothers,” she says, remembering the laughter, the tears, the cries of pain, and the joyous breaths of relief. “I was a midwife of sorts, though I knew well enough to heal wounds, and although not all sickness could be treated, I learned how to manage the symptoms.” She pauses. “I thought becoming a diplomat could provide the same sort of satisfaction, but I got…tangled up in the wrong sort.” Was it really a diplomatic problem that had caused her to run into Tunnel? Or was it merely fate? Either way, politics had never been kind to Elena, from the war, to being stolen, to lust in alliances, he was meant for a quieter role. “It could be considered funny I suppose, that I should so love children, yet I don't have any of my own.”
* e l e n a
in the dark I’ll pray for the return of the light the sunflower daughter of benjamin and beylani
medic of dusk.
She thought back to her training in healing, or rather her lack thereof. As a child and a young lady, her days in Herstial were spent learning trivial matters. Diplomacy, etiquette (Something she had rather hated, as much of it was painful for her frail body), how to read the maps laid out by their ancestors. other lessons were more fantastical, myths of magic and terror. Tales to tell the children of Herstial why they were not to touch the realms of magic. In Elysium, she had learned the error of this way, though she still wasn't very fond of the stuff. Most of her knowledge of healing had come before they found out she could not be cured. She spent hours under the watch of healers, listening to them work through steps for diagnosis, watching them prepare tinctures and poultices. All the while pestering them on their methods, their herbs.
She was brought out of her thoughts again by Elena. She smiled. "Shocking I know. I mostly dealt with those in the lower classes. Bringing back their requests and pleas to the King and Queen. "she conveniently left out her title. She wasn't ready for this mare to hold that knowledge."And again later in another land I was... I suppose a sort of liaison between the land and the people. I rather liked both, I would go back to them, if I could"Another title left out. She smiled somewhat sadly as the mare remarked on her multiple lives. "Too many for my own good" she replied softly. A saccharine sadness rolling off of her words. "I always think I've settled down, and then a curveball gets thrown my way yet again"
She stopped, settling to listen to the young mare, her ears perked forward at full attention. there seemed to be a reminiscence in Elena's voice, as if she had too had lived through more then she should have had to. "A midwife?"she questioned "That's a valuable skill that most don't possess. I could have used one when I had my son"Getting tangled up with the wrong sort was an all to familiar story."I understand"she murmured"The wrong sort are all around us, unfortunately. It takes time to learn how to avoid them. " She almost laughed at the girl's remark about children "You have plenty of time! If I could have one in my state at 8, you certainly have years and years"
He burned bright, like herself, but there was something different in his flame. Where she had brazened and flickered with life, he consumed. Elena dance in the fire, but he sat on the smokey edge. She could practically feel the ash falling off him, taste it in her mouth—the tension, mental anguish, a white knuckled grip on what he deemed important. She could imagine there were many that found him intimidating, even frightening.
But as she looked up at him through these thick lashes as he took her home, all she felt was sad.
Elena has seen monsters before, and he fit the description, but at the end of the day as she watches him make his way to the lake, she cant understand him, not really. In many way, his torment was foreign to her. Elena has felt grief and sorrow, but torture has never left ragged lines on her heart. But at the same time, there are scratches, and they bleed for him, and, instinctively, she is drawn to him. The sunflower doesn't know that she is thinking the same thoughts so many other women caught staring at a dangerous man think. She could heal him, soothe his soul, press a warm cloth to that fevered brow, and a cool hand to his warm cheek.
But she did nothing as blue eyes watched him move, his body aching with eternity. But, this cannot rest all on Elena’s shoulders because as he passes her, he says nothing in return to her obvious stares.
A king and a queen, that was who this woman worked with. Elena had met Pangea’s king, but she had lived in Hyaline, one of the territories and had answered only to Kensa. “Did you have to return back to those whose requests were rejected?” She asks, imagining how difficult such an action would be. “I enjoyed traveling to other lands, but I didn't get to know the people, just the leaders. It would have been nice to connect with everyone within my land and others,” she says, admiring Luvena’s old positions. “Do you think you can settle here? Maybe?” She questions and she doesn't entirely expect an answer, the question is private, and it is one Elena has asked herself before.
“If I could have been there, I would have,” she says sincerely to the bay Arabian girl. She barely knows her, having only just pieced a name and face together in her mind, but Elena has already pledged herself to her, if she should ever need the help, Elena would be there. She sighs then. “I always think I learn, that I know better, but it would seem as if I always can prove myself wrong,” she admits. Aerwir. Underworld. Tunnel. “It would be hard to imagine myself with a child,” she admits, but tilts her upwards to the mare. “You say you have a son, is he here? Are you close? Tell me about him,” she says, wonders, asks. A son, a concept indeed. Elena has no children, she has no brothers, but she has male cousins, uncles, the closest she can ever get to imagining what having a son may be like.
* e l e n a
in the dark I’ll pray for the return of the light the sunflower daughter of benjamin and beylani
medic of dusk.
There had been many times where she had returned with bad news for the commoners. Sometimes it was as simple as "We can't give you an extra acre before the woods, it's simply too much for the guards to patrol" other times it was harder. They couldn't provide them with a healer for their ill loved ones. Those ones had hit close to home. And she hadn't been confident enough at the time to help them herself. "I did" she replied finally. "It was never pleasant but I knew that we-" she stopped for a moment realizing her mistake "They always worked hard to do what they could, it just wasn't always possible."
She couldn't tell if the mare's words held any sorrow or not. She was hard to read. "I hope so" she replied. "It's been a long time, since I've stopped anywhere for more than a month since Elysium - Where I was before - everywhere has felt..." she hesitated, not sure what she wanted to say, or even what she meant. "Empty... like theres nothing to them, but Novus feels different, or maybe I'm just tired. Both could be true. Besides, even if it did feel empty, I don't think I have it in me to go much further, I was supposed to..." she cut herself off mid sentence, fearing her words would be far to dark. die, she thought. She was supposed to die, but a twist of fate had saved her, and another had left her ill once more. "I was supposed to rest more than I had been" she finally corrected herself.
She looked at the mare with sad eyes. Sad for both of them. "The learning never stops" she comforted "We are born to live, and make mistakes. Fail and begin again, until we finally carve out something that works. And eventually, that carving will grow weathered and crumble. But you make a new one, and this time, you know how to make it stronger. Believe me, I've had a great many fall. Rather spectacularly I might add" But I'm still here, She smiled softly at the girl. "I never thought I would have one" she replied. "But I do. I have two actually" she paused, thinking of Eremurus, of her anger with Cavalier for taking him from her without a word. He was both of their sons equally, and she had at least deserved a goodbye. "Twins. I birthed one and Cavalier the other. I..." her face fell, as her words caught in her throat. "I don't know where either of them are. Cavalier and Eremurus they left one day, without a word. and Liatris well..." She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she fought to keep them back "I left the red waste, his home, to go back to the woods as a judge under the new king. He was old enough to stay, and he wanted to, so I let him, knowing I had friends there who would look out for him, and send for me should anything go wrong. But Elysium fell shortly after and I don't if he made it out or not." A tear rolled down her cheek "I was close with them both. Eremurus, he was always the bold one. Always running around, begging the knights to take him with them, and tirelessly trying to learn how to fly before he had the muscle for it. Liatris was far less brave, but still had so much energy. When he was little, he used to throw the biggest fits because I couldn't play with him, which was hard, but after, him and his brother, they would huddle up close, and listen to stories under the stars, about my homeland, and Cavaliers, and about the gods that lived among the stars."
Sometimes she wished they could go back to that, but at the same time those days oo had been filled with an unspoken sorrow as her health had rapidly declined. She often wondered if that was why Cavalier had left. But she supposed she would never know. "I'll probably never see either of them again, but I like to think their both out there living their seperate lives." She looked to the mare "Having children is both a blessing and a curse. They are the most beautiful things you will ever have in your life, but they will break your heart into a million pieces. But still, I would never trade it for anything. Not in a million years. I would go back a million times over and do it again"
”What kind of monster would I be if I was uncomfortable with daylight? It’s a much more terrifying thing to know that what you fear can’t be stopped by anything.”
But it hadn't been said by a monster at all.
She knows this now.
He was just broken, burned by fire, choking on ash.
And it hadn't been fear what she had been feeling towards him at all.
She knows this now.
It had been desire, to take the smoke from his lungs and cool his scorched body.
”I don’t need to leave in order to find flowers…Elena.”
Icy blue eyes look to Luvena with sympathy. “I could not imagine being in a position of power like that,” she says with a shake of her golden head. Elena listens with a sort of stillness as the mare speaks. While she could not entirely relate to the emptiness (though she has felt it internally), but externally, well, Hyaline had been anything but empty, teeming with the life of Kensa and her champion, and the other residents who called the mountainous land home. And before that, Paraiso had been overflowing with childish laughter and families huddled close together as winter grew cold. Still, she understands what she means, Novus holds something else, and Elena feels a calming aura as she realizes she is not the only one who thinks so. “I know what you mean,” she reassures her. “Does that mean I am tired too?” She then jests, smile brightening on her face with humor. “Hopefully you can find some much needed rest in Terrastella.” And she so wants to help her in this moment, but the sunshine child isn't sure how. Elena gave herself wholly to those who needed her —without barrier or reservation. It was simply who she was. It was how she had her heart so terribly ravaged by those who she let in, in the first place.
She had given her love to him and he had not cherished it.
A heart can only break so many times before it no longer pieces back together (there are pieces of her scattered everywhere, pieces of her carried by others that she will never get back).
The learning never stops. It isn't the words she wants to hear, but the words she hears all the same. Elena listens like a dutiful child would there elder as Luvena speaks, her wisdom coming to rest upon Elena’s golden shoulders like a shawl. Falling. Falling from grace. She thinks of the phrase and she thinks of her mother. Elena does not have to pause to wonder if she would be proud, she would look to Elena with something akin to pity at the choices she has made in her life. ‘But then you should have been here to help me. To stop me.’ Is the thought she so bitterly thinks, hoping Beylani cannot hear her covered in dirt and soil and lilies.
“Twins,” she says in awe, unaware in a land far from here, underneath towering red woods where they carved out a tree fort of their own, her best friend had just given birth to twin boys of her own. “I’ve left before too.” She bites her lower lip, the confession felt treacherous on her tongue. Unaware again that her own land had fallen under Kensa’s reign, as another takes its place, a darker shadow, as the force in Pangea grew stronger.
“They sound like lovely children,” she says. “I am sure they will remember those stories for years to come,” she offers. “I just never pictured motherhood as my path,” she admits, thinking of the way Aerwir would talk, about raising a family, settling in Woodlands, but everything had crumbled when Broch had stolen her away to Culloden, but maybe it had been a blessing in disguise. Where would she be now if she had stayed?
“I am sorry,” she offers Luvena as she can offer little else in this moment. Her hands are empty, but she gives the mare the very thing she tries to give everyone: her heart.
But it wont be enough.
If there was one thing she has learned, it was never enough for anyone.
* e l e n a
in the dark I’ll pray for the return of the light the sunflower daughter of benjamin and beylani
medic of dusk.
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