champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
i roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of camels and a smoke alarm
She would be the first to admit she wasn't sure why she was still following them, but she was. One glance up, and he'd be able to see her ride the thermals, bound up cream curls flown back away from her face, the gold, and amber of her jewels glinting off the sunlight. However, the air was colder now, and even she could see the gathering clouds in the distance, the promise of a bit of snow later. A face was made at that thought. But, as they neared the mountains, she also knew it would be time to start thinking about landing.
Her gaze shifted, first towards the elk a little ways off, and then the area around him, a momentary silent scout for potential predators that may be watching him for a weak moment to leap. Deciding nothing threatening and worth her time was around, her gaze finally turned towards the confusing coffee and cream stallion below. Her yellow eyes watched him for a moment before she sighed and finally banked right. She followed the thermal down, twirling in lazy circles before beating her wings a few times in preparation for landing. She was hesitating, however, her gaze on the snow, trying to find the best way to land without disturbing the wounds she had reopened upon her departure into the air so long ago. But now, she needed to land again, which would be less than pleasant. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself and finally touched down.
Her wings swept back, arching out to slow her final descent with the grace of any bird of prey, her clawed hind limbs reaching to grasp onto the ground. However, the time up in the air had allowed the pain to be numbed by the cold and lack of use, and so the sudden pressure had a startled cry leave her muzzle, her limbs buckling beneath her. Instantly she slammed her front legs down, trying to steady herself, her wings immediately flaring out, and for once showing casing their odd design had a purpose, as they seemed to come alive like a webbed appendage, as they helped brace her body from hitting the ground, the hooked thumb putting the join down flat, while webbed fingers extending out, also pressed flat against the floor until she was able to catch her breath and re-establish her balance.
Only once she was sure she would be able to support her weight would she be able to keep her balance did she retract her wings again, flapping them twice to dislodge the snow before folding them tightly against her spine. She kept her eyes carefully void to ignore the pain she felt, even as she clearly gritted her teeth. As her back legs once more began to get used to the stress and weight, and the pain subsided from sharp jabs to a dull throb did, she finally look up to meet Gareth's gaze, instantly speaking in a slightly rough voice of someone who wasn't very familiar, thus very comfortable; with being taken care of by another. "I'm fine before you ask. Forgot how much landing hurt. It's no big deal. I'll get over the pain after a bit, have had I to be. Can't just up and magically make things stop hurting." She states dismissively, even as she unintentionally displayed just how little she knew about healing with that very sentence, unaware certain plants could be eaten to dull or even get rid of the pain completely. Unaware of medicinal practices at all.
She shifts her gaze away from her current caregiver. While she was growing more comfortable with his presence, the idea of having to be taken care of was still foreign. She'd raised herself (and her brother) after all. No one had ever taken the time to check on her. No one had ever tended her wounds, checked on how she was, or berated her for letting her state decline - or at least, none before this stallion. She didn't know how to feel about that or how to feel about the slight warmth that blossomed in her belly over the attention. The twinge, the subtle flutter of butterflies - not of the romantic variation - it was far too early for that just yet, but rather the warmth and fluttering of having someone worry about her, a stranger at that.
A feeling of warmth made her start to feel a little less alone and unstable on here, in this world. It was still new, still frail and delicate, easily crushed. But it was there, a subtle sense of maybe this land could be providing, the horses she'd scoffed at for their lack of self-preservation might actually not be as bad as she'd first expected. "So," she starts awkwardly, finally looking back to him, her limbs now used to the weight enough that she was able to take steps to draw her closer to him, so they could speak a little easier, "it looks like there are clouds coming in. I don't know . . . . what the different storms of this season might look like, so you'll have to decide yourself what it might mean - I just know what the air feels like with the approach of a storm." She pauses before adding, "The world I come from . . . doesn't have a cold season like this . . . So, I don't even know if there are storms that are bad during this season. Just that it drops frozen water from the sky." She adds.
She keeps the distance between them, not encroaching too close, trying to maintain a distance to not upset him or his pack member [the elk] from being so unnerved from the close proximity of what they both were still thinking was just another predator. She shivered a little more now from the cold, at the base of these mountains that would grow colder as they climbed, but said nothing to her discomfort, as her gaze searched the paths, "Uhm, well, I guess we better keep moving." She added awkwardly, motioning for him to go ahead, she'd follow; even as she fell quiet, a simple shadow watching the area around them with caution, knowing among trees like this . . . the predators, the real predators, would be more plentiful, and with this period being hard enough on an omnivore such as herself, she imagined these predators would be hungry as well, and with both she and the elk injured . . . their temporary pack would be a walking buffet.
this night is heating up
"Speech" Thoughts
@Gareth Notes: Time for some bonding while stuck in a blizzard . . . . you realize this is a romance trope right? xD
raise hell and and turn it up
saying, "if you go on you might pass out in a drain pipe."
oh yeah, don't threaten me with a good time
The distance between the plains to the base of the mountains had taken almost twice what Gareth had thought it would be. Partially because he kept stopping to gather herbs along their path, knowing full well that he’d need them to help keep Pangaea reasonably comfortable and infection free if she’d allow him close enough to her wounds. Noor had been healing well, though it looked like his hind quarters would scar in ugly knots. The elk had already expressed this displeasure with his companion, but the stallion had decided not to pass that information down the line. The mare already felt out of sorts and that knowledge would do her no good anyhow.
At least I think my foliage will grow back in. Perhaps the lichen will cover most of it, if I’m lucky. Noor craned his head back to itch at a particularly red looking patch of healing flesh, letting the fingers of his antlers do most of the work for him.
Gareth looked at him in annoyance, but said nothing. Noor was healing well enough; he was less concerned about the state of his wounds than the ones of the mare who drifted lazily above his head. It had been days and while the stallion had done his best to fetch small animals for Pangaea, he still hadn’t built up enough trust for her to allow him to touch her legs. At least she was keeping them clean, which was becoming easier as they neared the mountains, frost and snow beginning to accumulate.
As if summoned by his thoughts of her, the large frame of the winged woman began to descend, wide circles at first, then tightening up as she neared the ground. Gareth stopped short, trying to gauge how much room she would need to land comfortably in front of them. Thankfully, he hadn’t needed to get her attention to call her down and she had come on her own. It must have been part of her lineage or some sort of unknown magic that allowed her to speak at great distances- Gareth held no such ability and so trying to attract her while she was in flight had proved to be troublesome at best. A smooth landing it was not as her legs buckled under the sudden stress; this was precisely why he had wanted her to walk in the first place.
As if reading his mind (or perhaps just the concerned expression on his face) she spoke immediately to reassure him, her tone gruff. He shook his head, chuckling at her bravado.
Noor gave him a quizzical look. She does understand how medicine works, right, Gareth? The words were pressed to the stallions mind with the tone of disbelief and annoyance. He waved the thoughts off with a flick of his audits and turned his attention to Pangaea, as she had managed to right herself and was making her way towards him.
He cast his gaze skyward and in the shadow of the mountain he could see the clouds she spoke of. Thick, gray beasts that promised to be laden with snow. He frowned, watching as they moved across the sky in a deceptively slow current. It was likely that it would begin to snow as they reached the peak of their trail, if not before then. “They can get bad,” he said, returning his amber pools to the mare. “Let us hope that this is not one of them.”
Unlikely. The elk’s thoughts pressed to the stallion’s mind once more. You know how the winter gets, Gareth. Noor shook his pelt, stepping anxiously. Listen, I’m fine for the time being. I’m already walking far better than I was, and I can walk trails that you and her, he flicked his hot gaze to the predator mare, Can’t. I can meet you at the base of the mountain on the other side ,if not at home, before that storm sets in if I travel on my own.
Gareth turned his attention to his friend, mulling this over for a long moment before finally nodding. “Alright,” he relented. “If you are sure.” He moved over to the elk and carefully bent his large head over the creature’s shoulders, pulling him to a short embrace, mumbling, “Be careful, friend.”
The stallion released the cervidae from his grip and stepped away, nodding once more before turning back to Pangaea who seemed to be surveying the area with uncertainty, her posture alert. “Yes, lets. You and I have a long way ahead of us. Noor is going to take his own path, and he knows this mountain as well as I, if not better. He will meet with us again at our journey’s conclusion.”
The earther brute then turned his attention to several mountain passes in front of them. A lot of trails on the Arma were false trails, leading to dead ends forcing you to circle back in the best circumstances. They would lead you right off a cliff at their worst. He chose a well-worn and fairly wide trail, motioning for the mare to follow him. It was the path that he took when he was in need of a long walk. Though it was not his preferred trail, it would be gentle enough on the injured woman and that would suffice for now. He did his best to discreetly clear large stones and branches from in front of them so that her discomfort on the uneven ground would be lessened.
drowning deep in my sea of loathing
broken your servant I kneel
it seems what's left of my human side
is slowly changing in me
It was an odd feeling to know that someone out there was looking out for her. Not since Rex, or Jurassic, or the Raptor pack had she ever felt quite so . . . important? Certainly not since coming to this land, where she was an obscure outsider, an oddity to be noticed, but nothing more. A passing glimmer of curiosity before something new would enflame a stranger's interest, and Pangaea was once more an outsider in an unfamiliar world.
It was likely the reason she still had no understanding of this world. The magic here was odd, unfamiliar. She couldn't comprehend how it came to be. The same with the oddness of the creatures, which they kept close to. Like why were an elk and a horse of all things were pack? None of it made any sense, and the longer she struggled to understand, the more out of place, a stranger in a strange land, she continued to feel. She didn't understand. Her mind is still locked firmly in the fight to survive, kill or be killed, defend and protect. The essential, most critical components of survival were all she had to go off of - and in the continued confusing situation, unfamiliar landscapes, those survival instincts were ramped up, especially with her injury.
She had no other way of life to lean towards, learn from, and without a guiding hand to show her the course of this world, she had no reason to change her own archaic, prehistoric caveman way of life. She wasn't civilized enough for the herds. She wasn't predator enough for the beasts. And her constant swaying to find a place to perch had her tittering dangerously on a small ledge that led to her doom. And then Gareth had arrived, and where at first she thought he would be the slipping point, the point where she'd fall from the ledge into a dark spiral, instead he was slowly crafting a bridge, a bridge spanning the chasm between her ridge and civilization, a promise to something better. It looked sturdy enough, but she couldn't help but fear that with each step she took towards that bridge, she would see the shift in his features. She would notice the missing nail, the loose board, the point where the bridge became her tomb. A trick to kill the beast.
His pack member likely would have approved of such actions. Even now, she could feel a sense of unease about the way the elk watched her as if he was waiting for her to slip, for her to tumble down, prove she was the predator he assumed she was. A predator - was that all he saw in her? Was that all either saw in her. Even as the days had passed, and the stallion would fetch her small animals, the offerings like encouragements for her to close the gap, to step onto that too-good-to-be-true bridge, she couldn't help but wonder, deep down did she disturb him, disgust him? A monster wearing the guise of a mare.
So she kept that distance intact, but she knew the next part of their journey would be the real struggle. That distance was easy to obtain between them when she flew, and he walked. But she knew trails, she knew mountains - not these ones, no, but she knew. Those required close quarters required trust. She was already putting her very survival into his large hooves, but why did this make it seem more real. She slowed her descent, and she was relieved when he stopped, trying to give her as much room as she needed as she landed. It was almost . . . cute, the way he seemed to be so concerned about such trivial things. She'd been flying all her life since she was a hatchling, chasing after small bugs and snapping them up in little jaws. Those tiny morsels were the only reason she and her brother had survived from their hatchings, as their parents had abandoned them relatively early.
She hated how she didn't land proudly, her legs buckling, and she had to control her own emotions to pretend she was alright, reassuring him, before looking at him in surprise when he chuckled at her, shaking his head. She shot him a look, righting herself, taking the time to test her strength before approaching. Was he growing . . . familiar with her? Certainly not. He barely knew her. Why would he have any sort of emotion beyond the horror and disgust from when she'd almost killed his pack member?
While she fought to understand why he'd chuckled at her, why he found her amusing, why he'd care at all about her demeanors, he was taking the time to observe the mountains, the shadow and clouds she'd mentioned. Her inner monologue of confusion halted when he spoke about the storms being bad, and her gaze turned towards him, amber eyes widening faintly in alarm, uncertainty for another obstacle she wasn't familiar with, "How bad . . . is bad, Gareth?" His name felt so unfamiliar on her tongue. Not wrong, but different. Different, new, like much of what he was pushing her into. Not bad, not wrong . . . just new, just different. Just . . . scary.
Some great predator she really was. But, then again, that was the point, wasn't it? She had to remind herself again; they both saw her as some scary predator. They didn't know she wasn't. That she would turn into a little filly, bubbling with excitement as soon as berries began to plump up on wild bushes. How she melts when offered an apple. That she would eagerly give her left-wing for a bushel of sweet corn. That she wasn't all blood, macabre hunger, and destruction. She turns away from his gaze, necklaces clinking together from where the gold and amber jewelry shifted as she turned a little more quickly than she should have to look fully at the mountain.
Whatever was starting to happen her was weird, and unusual, and . . . sure, she could be thankful he was helping her, but that was all. There didn't need to be anything else here. It was unnecessary. "What should I expect, if we are caught in a bad storm?" She finally asks, putting all of her attention back onto the learning about the situation she may find as they hiked the mountain. It was pointless for her to attempt to figure out this situation. He was merely helping her to heal and survive the winter. Then they would go separate ways, he'd do whatever he'd been doing before . . . she'd be alone again in the plains, in the desert, where ever she could find a quiet place to hole up. Alone . . . even just the past few days made that thought painful. A pack animal didn't enjoy being alone. They weren't made to be alone. A pack hunted, lived, breathed, existed as a unit. These months on her own had been . . . painful.
She jumps when he turns to the elk and suddenly speaks as if the elk had said something. Her gaze is confused, alarmed as he approaches the elk pulls it close in some sort of affectionate gesture she assumed. Her expression was still puzzled as he turned back to her, explaining that the elk had decided to go his own route. "Wait, wait, wait, it spoke to you? He didn't even open his mouth? How could it have spoken to you." Sure, she thought they might be pack, but this is NOT what she'd be expecting. Gareth was already moving towards a well-worn and rugged path, her gaze sweeping it, even as her ears perked towards him for an explanation. She didn't dare voice her confusion about the odd affectionate gesture that she certainly had no familiarity of. Affection between her and her brother had been bringing a snack to each other when they managed to find extra. When she'd been with Rex, it was in silent communications, brief looks. Nothing physical like whatever the hell that had been.
She chases the confusion from her mind. She was living a life of solitude here anyway, once winter ended, she and Gareth would part ways, and she'd go back to being alone. Why bother learning about the odd affectionate gestures . . . it's not like she'd have any purpose for them. So instead, she followed him along the trail, shooting him looks as soon as she noticed his attempts to even out the ground - clearing stones and branches, "My species nest in mountains, I can walk over branches and stones myself." She finally states, her voice not disapproving, just confused again. Why did he keep trying to be so helpful? She was just a stranger, a predator, after all. "I won't slow you down, so you don't need to worry about me." She added, suddenly wondering if that was what was behind his actions. Worry that she would be a burden, slow them down to being caught in the approaching storm, and felt he needed to lessen the risk of her being burdensome? Somehow, though, he didn't strike her the type to think of another soul as burdensome. Not with how attentive he was.
Pangaea had been asking him questions while he had been speaking with Noor, and while the information had been filtered in through his audits, it hadn’t registered until they started on the trail. Gareth didn’t want to worry her with tales about these mountains, how the Arma could so easily take lives and keep them for herself, as if lost souls sustained her through the harsh winters so that she could thrive come spring.
The stallion pushed another handful of sharp rocks out of the way as she brushed off the gesture. “No,” he said, casting his gaze back over his shoulder to look at her. “I’m not worried about that at all.” His tone was genuine, though she still might not believe him.
That had been the nature of their relationship so far- confusion and suspicion. He couldn’t exactly blame her, either. They certainly didn’t meet under the best of circumstances, and any other sane person would have either killed her or left her for dead. But Gareth had been raised differently, and he knew the kind of isolation that bred such distrust in others. It was difficult to take someone at face value once those instincts had been formed, especially if they were at odds with everything that you had come to expect from those around you. Even in this strange land, the rules still applied and the stallion had this habit of dancing around just outside of them, much to the discomfort of those who lived by strict guidelines, such as Pangaea did. Gareth’s world was full of gray, very few matters had ever been black and white to him; nothing was ever as simple as kill or be killed, no matter how much he sometimes wished it were.
“I was more concerned about your legs. Things will get steep as we start to crest various sections of this trail, and I’d rather you save your energy and strength for the things that I can’t help you navigate as readily.” He kicked a particularly large, thorny branch out of the path. “It’s not a trouble, either,” he said, turning his head back to her once more.
“Though it would be easier to answer your questions and carry conversation if you came up off my flank.” The stallion gave her a broad, inviting smile. “I can’t throw my voice the way you seem to, and I’ll snap my neck if I keep looking back like this. Besides,” he slowed his pace to allow her to adjust her position if she chose to do so, which he very much hoped she did. “I like to be able to see those I’m conversing with and this trail is wide enough for the time being to allow that.” He chuckled, the sound rumbling high in his chest. “Indulge me a little?”
Regardless of her choice, he would keep them moving, clearing some of the more troublesome bits of debris, but otherwise allowing her to step over or around others at her discretion. He picked up with her line of inquiries, starting with Noor. He really didn’t want to upset her with stories about old winter storms that swallowed whole herds and empty chasms that seemed like walking on air until it wasn’t.
“Noor is my Bonded,” Gareth explained. “Back when I was a wee lad, me and…” he paused, regret and sorrow piercing his chest, white hot. He swallowed it down and continued. “A childhood friend were out here, on the other side of the mountains, searching for herbs. A particular genus of mushroom, actually. We wont see any this late in the season, since it’s a summer fungus, but it sparkles like it holds the night sky, and is an excellent remedy for anything related to sleep. Anyways, the easiest way to identify it is at night, and while we were out hunting, I found Noor. He’d gotten caught up in a snare of some kind. Likely something a hunter had forgotten about, given how tangled and messy it was. I’m not sure how long he had been trapped there, since I never really bothered to ask. It didn’t seem like a very polite thing to probe about, you know?” He cast his gaze to Pangaea again to make sure that his walking pace was still amicable to her.
“We managed to free him, but his legs were a sight. Not unlike your own, really. I brought him to safety and took care of him. During this time we forged a connection.” He dipped his head. “I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure why some interactions forge the special relationship that comes with two bonded souls and others do not. From what I gather, it’s akin to companionship that transcends the mortal boundaries of this world. If either of us had been born a species other than what we are, we would have still found each other, and would have still formed this bond.” He cast his gaze skyward, watching the clouds looming overhead. “It’s as if somewhere within the fabric of the universe, the gods knew we would balance each other, and made it so.”
Gareth continued walking, taking them slowly upwards. The incline was delicate enough that if one was unfamiliar with the terrain like Pangaea was, she might not even notice that they were rising. That would change the further into the mountains they climbed, but that was a concern for later. He didn’t want to waste energy thinking about things that had not yet come to pass, and might not ever. He had a far better things to be doing with his time than to stew over infinite possibilities with no concrete evidence.
“We didn’t start out being able to communicate in this way,” the stallion paused, trying to pick the best words to explain to her. “The first time Noor spoke to me, I thought that I was still dreaming, or hallucinating, maybe. He didn’t say much, a handful of words, maybe. They were simple thoughts. Gratitude for my aiding him, for healing him. Understanding that I was doing so to be kind. But as you noticed, his mouth does not move as ours need to. He….” Gareth rolled the words over his tongue slowly. “He speaks with his mind. Much like how I imagine the gods speak to seers or prophets. As we’ve come to know each other and have spent years together, the easier it is for him to do so. His vocabulary is as wide as any intelligent beast, though if that is of his nature already or from conversing over time I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” He smiled softly.
“We’ve been friends for a very long time, Noor and I. Stubborn git he is, sometimes, but he’s generally got a solid head on his shoulders.” He spoke about his companion good naturedly, “Even if sometimes we rub each other like porcupine quills.”
Gareth lead them around a bend in the trail, the width of their path slowly narrowing in. They would still be able to walk side by side if she so chose, though it would eventually force her quite close, or behind him if she intended to keep the distance. If she moved behind his flank he’d have to make sure that he didn’t lose her. It was easy to get turned around in these mountains, with game trails branching off in different directions, all seeming to go to the place you want to be, all easy traps for the less vigilant.
“Others in Novus are known to have bonded companions, though it’s not what I would call ‘common’. Most consider them gifts from the gods themselves, and while some go in search of their companions through long trials, others, like myself, seem to stumble upon them. I would almost call it arbitrary, if not for my own experience.” He shook his hide, muscles rippling under his dark earthen coat. “Noor is the closest companion I’ve had save for my grandmother, and she had never been one to believe in pure coincidence.” He smiled, somewhat sad as he continued fondly. “I suppose that is one of the many ways I take after her.”
The stallion shook his head, heavy woven locks loosening from their messy buns. “But I’ve been monologuing long enough. Please, let me know if you would rather travel in silence and I will happily grant you that.” His warm amber pools turned to her then, searching her face for answers. While it was true, he had been speaking a long time, there was a glimmer of hope that she might choose to carry on the next part of their conversation. Pangaea had mentioned living within the mountains herself, and while he didn’t think that she would share much about her own life, he believed that perhaps this act of opening up about himself might leave room for her to do some of the same. They did have a long walk ahead of them, and the sky seemed to be settling in over the Arma, the clouds above them caught in the grasp of her highest peaks.
"Speech" || @Pangaea | jeebus that was an exposition dump, I'm sorry ; 3;
01-26-2022, 01:35 PM - This post was last modified: 01-26-2022, 01:40 PM by Gareth
drowning deep in my sea of loathing
broken your servant I kneel
it seems what's left of my human side
is slowly changing in me
The climb thus far hadn't been too hard, even as she trailed behind. However, she knew enough about mountains to know that the rolling hills and the initial climb up never correctly portrayed how bad it could really be. Still, it was odd how . . . how peaceful it felt. A peace that she couldn't deny worried her to be a false pretense. No one was ever this . . . this nice. Gareth glanced back at her, even as he moved another batch of sharp rocks out of her way, and she tilted her head quietly, "Oh." Was her very eloquent reply, before she glanced away, not wanting to trust what those eyes were trying to portray. She did have to acknowledge the concern for her, even as she quickly shook her head, "No, it's alright; I am fine. It's nothing I haven't had to live through before. I am no stranger to pain." If he looked close enough, he'd likely believe it. Scars that dapple and blend into the ivory of her appaloosa markings. The warping on her pebbled hide from where lacerations had healed. The thick and heavy jagged scar on the side of her neck, from where that Spinosaurus had tried to take her head off. From where her brother had sacrificed his own life to let her get out. She'd almost died that time, too, when humidity had flared infection quickly. She didn't respond to his comment of it not being a trouble, but that was more because his following words had startled her.
Startled her enough that she'd paused, staring at him midstep, head tilting to the side. Walk . . . with him. The broad, inviting smile. The chuckle rumbled through his chest as he asked her to indulge him. Her stomach turned slightly, a fluttering feeling at the look he offered her. Why was her stomach fluttering? Had he poisoned the food he had hunted for her? Was this a prolonged plot to kill her? However, she closed the distance, turning her gaze from him, but stepping up even as he slowed down so she could walk at his side. "Just so we can converse easier." She agreed, wondering if whatever poison was in the food was making her overheat because her face felt enflamed. What was he doing to her? Would this be how she died?
He distracted her by an unfamiliar word. No, not just a word, it was a title. Like Mother, Father, Brother, Sister, Mate . . . Bonded. She listened quietly, her gaze cutting to him at the pause before mentioning a childhood friend, her gaze watching him, wondering what he wasn't saying about that. Her ears did perk a little about the odd mushroom, but to imagine that there were traps out there designed to capture other animals was odd, "The people here trap to hunt animals? Doesn't that deny the prey the honorable death, the chance to overpower and get away? Seems like a cheat to the system." She stated quietly, "Even an ambush isn't so . . . cheaty. I'd have died long ago if they had traps such as that where I come from." She could name a dozen or so species who would have utilized them with ease.
He did speak about freeing the elk, taking care of him, and a connection being forged. Not like the pack bond, though. This was . . . something more. Her expression was puzzled, but quizzical, her eyes now locked onto him, engrossed in the tale he was telling. It was in this rare moment her guard shifted, was let down a little, ears perked, eyes eager for what else she could learn about this odd phenomenon that was almost as peculiar as the magic she'd seen in this world. "So . . . this bonded thing, can happen between any species? Or is it limited to a . . . horse, and non-horse?" She asked, puzzled, "I thought you had formed a pack with the Elk, with Noor, but . . . this is vastly different." And she was jealous of it.
To imagine, never having to be alone. To always have someone there. "I can't imagine . . . what it must be like. To have someone there like that. To not have to feel alone ever again." She walked a little more comfortable, some space still given between them, even as she walked by his side, rather than behind, being careful to preserve as much of her energy as possible, to ignore the throbs and aches from her hind legs. She's distracted from the pain at his comment of having thought he was dreaming or hallucinating, her muzzle twitching into an amused smile, a startled laugh being pulled out of her, "I would imagine that would be terribly alarming if you were not expecting it." She agreed softly. When was the last time he had laughed. So simply, without sarcasm coloring the sound? She briefly wonders if anyone would ever reimenance about her with the same fondness Gareth used to speak of Noor.
They turn around a bend, and she startles by the slight narrowing of the path, even as she steps to the side once or twice (closer to him) to avoid her hair being caught up by branches. Her wings, despite being pulled against her sides briefly brush against his side, and she holds them tighter, the thumb claw tucking in to make sure she doesn't accidentally stab or scratch him, "Oh. Sorry." The apology was soft, and there was a brief return of that shy, soft smile. "I sometimes forget my wings." It was the better way of saying she had developed a habit of having them ready for take off, to get out of danger (or a hungry mouth). She listens again when he speaks of others having the companions and the struggles to find them. He mentioned his grandmother again. And she glanced at him curiously, before he shook his head, "No . . .it's alright. I don't mind listening to you talk." She started to assure before he turned those eyes back onto her, searching her face. The warmth fluttered around her belly again and she dropped that gaze, before she spoke quietly.
"You speak of your grandmother with such fondness." She started, her words almost hesitant, "Someone who had such a profound impact on your life." Her muzzle softened. Those harsh lines gentled with a smile, "She sounds like the sort of individual my brother would have been drawn to. He was sickly as a hatchling. I think mother and father abandoned us with concern id share the sickness. Proved them wrong. But even with hardships, Jurassic was soft. He helped those he came across, saw the best in others. It was a full time job keeping him alive." Her smile fell, as she remembered his loving smile when he pushed her away from the Spinosaur, let those jaws snap up around him.
She was startled to feel the wetness at her eyes and she quickly turned her head, her ears pinning into her curly cream hair, "A part of me is jealous. Of you, of the rest that live in this world. Carefree. Unafraid. Together. Even the magic here seems kind. The only magic I ever experienced back at home led me to that . . . To that place." The walls, the loss of identity. Starving her, experimenting with her abilities, her strength. The cold attention, cruel taunts. She takes a step closer to Gareth, the only warmth she had felt in such a long time, not even realizing she'd moved. "Will you . . . Tell me more. About her, about your grandmother?" Her honey eyes turn back towards him, cautious, uncertain, but willing to listen and to learn about this world he lived in. To learn about him.
If Gareth were to be honest with himself, he had been secreting glances at the mare all the while. He didn’t allow his gaze to linger, knowing such stares would be inappropriate at the best of times. However, as they had traveled together he had started to take note of her physique, of the peculiar way her flesh rippled with an almost scale-like hide in some places. The best way he could describe it would be akin to some of the larger lizards he had heard of residing within Solterra. The was intimately familiar with the many forms a scar might take, the telltale signs of wounds that had been cared for in a crude manner. He had stopped trying to count the ones he had seen peppering her hide, though some were harder to dismiss than others; large, ugly knots of flesh peeking out from behind armor or her unruly hair. It didn’t bother him, for Gareth had made acquaintanceship with many who lead rugged lives. Scars were no stranger to his vision, in his personal life and his line of work. He believed her when she said that she was not a stranger to the pain.
Still, it did not dismiss his instincts to make things easier for her. Life had clearly dealt her a harsh hand, and she had fought with every tooth and claw to survive it’s trials. He wanted to provide her with a more gentle alternative, so she would at least carry the knowledge that the world was not always so cruel to its inhabitants, that kindness for the sake of it still existed within people.
He had been keenly aware of her presence at his side as he spoke of the nature of Bonded creatures. He had sensed the ripple of disbelief, almost disgust, at the idea of trappers. A smile tugged at his lips. She was honorable, then, noble, even. Even a predator had it’s codes, some sort of moral or ethical ties, even if they did not align with those it hunted. What was good for the spider was often chaos for the fly, as it were. He wondered only briefly what it might have been like if Noor had seen her first approach and had made the attempt to fight her off. The thought was not appealing and he dismissed it quickly.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he said in response to her query. “I’ve only heard of it between a horse and other non-horse beings. Though if it’s possible for us, I imagine that it’s also possible for other beings, too.” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug, clearing a nasty branch from the path, watching it skitter away.
Her laugh, though unexpected, was a very pleasant sound. It tickled the inside of his audits and pulled his lips into a wide grin. He decided he would like to hear that sound more often. His intention to pull her out of her shell was working, just a bit. Pangaea was no longer acting as a starving, scared animal. She was still in desperate need of proper medical attention, but, dare he even consider it- the mare might have been starting to feel some sense of security, of comfort with him. That was very good. He would need her to trust him if he were to be able to treat her wounds properly.
The contact, through brief, sent flutters across his skin. He had known the touch of many creatures, though almost all of them had been feathered or furred in some variety. The leathery texture of her flight appendages was entirely different. He noticed how she carefully handled them, being mindful of the spined knuckle at the apex. It was fascinating, really. The closest relation he could think of was bat-like. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, he concluded. Even with the inclement weather, the heat from her body radiated to her wings, and so the touch had been almost welcome, a flicker of warmth in an otherwise chilly atmosphere. She apologized quickly, almost bashful in her response. The stallion simply shook his head. He had not been offended by the action, and the trail would only continue to narrow, at least in this section. They would either be brushing against each other or she would need to move behind him again, which would likely send them into silent contemplation. He would prefer their conversation continue, though he seemed to have been holding the bulk of it until now.
Pangaea opened up. It was a gentle thing, uncertain at first. She spoke of her brother, of their abandonment as children. His heart lurched at the words, spoken so matter of fact. Never in his life had he met a herd that would leave their young for dead. Children were the gift of the gods, to be cherished, nurtured, protected and brought to thrive at all costs. Anger flared in him briefly, thinking of two young creatures left alone to defend themselves in a world that was far more cruel than he was likely to ever know. The sign of tears at the edge of her vision did not escape his notice before she averted her gaze. The ache of loss washed over him, and he knew without having to ask what had happened.
The mare moved closer to him, and Gareth met her, lightly pressing his body to hers, though they still had room on the trail. The warmth he found there quelled the nerves he felt at the injustice done to this woman. There was supposed to be balance in all things, and for her to have suffered so much must mean that grace was coming for her. If Gareth was the one chosen by Caligo to bring peace into her life, then he was grateful to do so.
“My grandmother was the one who raised me,” he said, watching the clouds as they darkened over the ridge. “I didn’t have the chance to know my parents, and I had never felt the need to ask what had happened to them. I had speculated as a child, but it ultimately didn’t matter. They were gone, but my grandmother was there. She was all I needed.” His smile was gentle as he continued.
“To describe my grandmother is a lot like what it is to describe an immense force of nature. She was full of wisdom, knowledge that to this day I am unsure how she acquired. She taught me everything there was to know about the plants of the earth, their uses, properties, and how to care for them.” The stallion turned his gaze to Pangaea, his orbs the colour of whiskey. “How to use them to heal the sick and the wounded. She taught me the ways of the world, of this plane and the next, and all the various things between.” He chuckled. “Even in her age, I had never known her to be anything but bright and fiery. No time for nonsense dithering. She spoke plainly, and she was direct, regardless of your feelings. You’d know if she didn’t like you, but if you needed help she would help you anyways.”
Gareth grew quiet, and then motioned to the vial that hung from the chain around his neck. “I was so lost when she passed away. But I keep part of her with me, always. Whenever I am distraught, she grounds me. Whenever I am unsure, she guides me.” He glanced back to the mare, head held low, keenly aware of their shared body heat.
“I think she would have liked you, Pangaea,” he said finally, his tone husky, but gentle. “She would have tended your wounds, offered you shelter and taught you all of the things that you wanted to know if you had asked her.” He took a steadying breath and then looked forward to the trail again.
“I heal those around me because that is how I was raised and I don’t think I could live any other way if I tried. But I also do it to honour her memory, and I like to believe somewhere beyond the veil she is proud of the man I have chosen to become.”
drowning deep in my sea of loathing
broken your servant I kneel
it seems what's left of my human side
is slowly changing in me
Pangaea would be the first to admit that her life hadn't been easy. She knew it with every scar that crossed her skin, every painful memory. Every instinct told her to not get attached, to not get too close to others. To keep a distance, to keep a level of protection. But, there was a quiet level of . . . not yet comfortable, but of content in this stallion's company. Especially without her attention half being on the clear disapproval of his companion, his . . . Bonded. Could she blame the elk, though? She was just a predator in his eyes, in both of their eyes. A creature to be treated with apprehension, with the knowledge that she could turn and bite the hand that feeds her. She didn't try to dissuade them, she wouldn't have the words to explain she wasn't just all 'chomp, chomp, eat, eat.' She glances at him from the corner of her eye, as he spoke of how he met his bonded, noting the smile that tugged at his lip in response to her words. The slight approval settled some of her nerves she wasn't aware she had.
Her ears flicked, catching his rumbled words with an unintentional eagerness. Not so much for the knowledge he was parting with, although she considered it vastly valuable, but for the very nature of his tones. Rumbled, and husky, like the dull heat of a fire on a cold day. There was something about his baritone that could lead her to listen any time he chose to speak. Something hypnotic in his voice, "I wonder if there is one for me." Someone who would never leave her side, who would be a constant companion. She was losing hope in finding Duellum, the very idea the raptor had survived this long while separated from her felt unlikely. Extremely unlikely. And that was even if that rare moment of magic in her homeworld that had saved Duellum's life as their former pack lay dead around them, the little raptor struggling for breath.
Perhaps it was a sixth sense that had her slowly having to acknowledge, Duellum wouldn't be waiting for her in these parts. But, maybe that just meant there was another being around here for her. The unintentional skin contact had startled her, if only to have not realized just how close she had gotten to his side, her apology almost bashful. He'd shaken his head in response, and it was like another balm to her nerves, his casual acceptance of the contact. Maybe he didn't find her as scary and predatory as she'd been fooling herself into believing. She did finally begin to speak, her words soft as she spoke of Jurassic, barely even touching on the struggles the two had faced from the moment they were on their own. Her gaze averted, trying to obscure the vision. The press of his body against hers was not expected, and she turned her eyes back towards him, his heat, the soothing feel of his pelt against her hide and fur. She forced her breath to even, blinking back the tears at just that gentle touch, the support almost being her undoing. She didn't have the words to express her gratitude in that moment, and if for just a brief moment her forehead pressed gently against his neck, accepting the comfort, and using his heat to ground her.
The tears dried, that well refusing to be tapped, and after just a few quick breaths she pulled herself from his body heat, so they could continue their walk, "I don't . . . talk about home often. Don't get the chance to really." She explained with a quiet shake of her head, before her ears perked slightly when he spoke of his grandmother raising him. The gentle smile on his face told her all she needed to know, his grandmother met the world to him. She could understand growing up without parents. Her own had abandoned her fairly early on, their visits infrequent, with longer gaps until they stopped showing up. Had she been that figure for her brother? The one that had taught him, had helped him. Barely a few hours older through the luck of hatching, should she have even had to?
She liked the way he described the woman who raised him. A force of nature. When his gaze turned back towards her, she met his gaze without hesitation, her expression surprised at the idea of the plants actually have used to heal the sick and wounded. "That is why you've gathered the plants? They actually have such uses?" She asked in bewilderment, "How does that work? You don't have to eat it do you? Because I tried eating grass, and it's disgusting. Has no flavor what-so-ever!" The words came out before she could stop them and for that brief moment a glimmer of her real personality, what a happy and healthy Pangaea was like. She fell quiet, her gaze dancing away as if waiting for the scoff of a 'predator' eating grass. As an omnivore, she'd tried it, tried to see what grazing was like. But . . . it'd been unimpressive. She preferred roots, vegetables, and fruit. And the occasional sweet roasted nut. She'd been surprised by how tasty those were.
He spoke more, about this grandmother being direct, plain, would know if she didn't like you, but she was also always willing to help. She glances at the vial around his neck, her gaze curious, as he spoke about being lost when she had passed away, that he'd kept a part of her. He looks back to her, and she blinks in surprise at his gentle tone, golden eyes softening slightly in response to his own gentle nature. "I might not have known you long, Gareth; but I would imagine she would be immensely proud of you." She agreed just as gently, her gaze looking ahead to the trail before them as well, "I'm sorry for your loss . . ." Her words were soft, peacefully gentle, "When my brother passed . . . it wasn't peaceful, for him or I. We knew the risk of the world we lived in. Who wouldn't. You eat, or you're eaten . . . Jurassic didn't even hesitate." She glances up to the sky, her wings shifting, as if the very memory was twitching them to life with the need to fly, to escape, "We were hungry, just kids, barely a year old if I remember - it was a long time ago; went where we shouldn't have too hungry to not try chase a snack into another predator's territory. A large creature, like a wingless dragon." She tosses her head, the bound mane flipping to the other side of her neck, exposing the violent and ugly scar that had nearly taken her life, even before the infection had set in, "Jurassic pushed me out of the way, took the bite meant for me." She admitted. "I still almost didn't survive. We lived in a humid jungle, and . . . humidity has a habit of breeding bad things, and I don't just mean the predators. I was hot and delirious for days, struggling to take care of the wound enough to survive it. Some days I don't know if I ever actually woke up."
She smiles faintly, a glimmer of pride in her eyes suddenly, "I'm not so easy to kill, but it was hard to suddenly be on my own." She glances back towards the stallion, "We're pack animals, my kind. I know some horses form, I believe the term I heard was herds? I don't know the general mechanics, but it sounds similar? Maybe a different name because we're not herbivores? But it made being alone hard. When I came across Rex, and the pack of raptors, I barely gave it a second thought when he offered me to join them." She laughed softly, the memory of the meeting a warm part, "Of course, when you're a small pack in a world of bigger threats, you're survival rate is low." She didn't need to continue, after all, she was alone again, wasn't she . . .
Or she had been. "It's what I've hated the most about being here. Being an outsider. It's like being alone again with nowhere to turn to." She shook her head, violently, curls slapping against her face from where they fell chaotically down her forehead and cheeks. "But . . . I know what others see when they see me. They see fangs and claws. They see a scary being with eyes that glow at night, slit pupils of a predator. A weird pebbled hide, as well as the traditional fur. They see a weird monster, a predator." Her ears lowered, her gaze momentarily dejected, "I'm not . . . by the way." She finally admits, refusing to look at him, "A predator I mean. I'm sure it seems that way, with how we met. But meat is more valuable when I'm ill like this. But normally, I only need to consume it maybe once every other weak. I'm an omnivore. I eat plants too." Her words are meek as she admits it, finally corrects his assumptions, his bonded's assumptions. For a moment, a hint of a smile is visible, "If only we'd have met under different circumstances - no?"
Her gaze turns away again, back to the darkening sky, and she frowns, instinctively stepping into his warmth again when a chilly breeze sweeps past them, carried from higher up the mountain. She shivers at the slight drop in temperature, her body pressed against his until the breeze dies down, "Let's pick up our pace maybe?" She asks, glancing up at him, still shivering slightly, "It's starting to get colder."
looking at my own reflection
"Speech" Thoughts
@Gareth Notes: I'm liking this very slow development. She sets the starting ground work, he takes the steps to demonstrate positive behaviors. And it's adorable <3
when suddenly it changes
violently it changes
there is no turning back now
you've woken up the demon in me
Noor had been right to be concerned about the mare’s knowledge of medicine. Not that Gareth would ever tell him that. Instead, he smiled and nodded. “The right plants have many uses. And no,” he chuckled. “You don’t always have to eat them, either.” It warmed him to see Pangaea relaxing. While her muscles were still coiled tight, ready to leap, he couldn’t blame her. She had lead a very different life from his own, and that instinct and ability to take flight at any moment had kept her alive. It was not something one could simply undo with a few lighthearted conversations. Getting her comfortable in Novus would take time. They would have plenty of it while she was healing, so he was grateful that they were building rapport.
Though the stallion hadn’t wanted to admit it, he had been worried that she would fight with him on it the entire way. That she would be stubborn, and thorny, and a hard pill to swallow. He knew how it was to be stuck in your ways- habits are hard to break, if some can even be broken at all. Those instilled for survival were nearly impossible to override, and that desperate need to push on, no matter the cost, could cause more damage in the end. He had secreted away in his satchel a bundle of herbs that would help to sedate the mare if it came to it. Just in case. He’d not said anything to Noor about his concerns, and he was very glad that he had chosen to remain silent. The Pangaea that was before him now was far different from the bestial mare that he had thrown free of his friend.
He listened, attentive to her grim retelling, the story of her brother’s noble sacrifice. Gareth couldn’t even begin to fathom what that must have been like for her to experience. To only have each other in the entire world and then to be ripped so violently apart forever. She rearranged the chaotic locks of flaxen hair, tossing the bundle to her other shoulder and revealing a rather gruesome neck injury. He had seen the edges of it as they had been walking, but to have it fully displayed was another thing entirely. Even without her explanation he was able to tell that a wound of that caliber should have killed anyone. The fact that she had been able to tend to it herself, to live long enough to let it heal… It was a great feat of strength. Instinctively he craned his muzzle to touch it, to get a sense for how thick the scar tissue ran, how it had stitched the flesh together and made her whole once more.
He stopped short, reminding himself that such a thing would be very sensitive. His nares twitched and he withdrew before he could encroach upon her space any further. Perhaps he would see if there were any salves he could devise to aide in softening scar tissue, to help smooth the knots of flesh and in turn maybe also heal a horrific memory. He would keep that in mind, if Pangaea chose to stay after her legs were healed. The stallion did not want to hope too much; one could not put their own expectations onto another, it would only lead to further heartbreak.
The mare spoke of pack mates, of how disheartening it is to be alone in the world when you are destined to be with others of your kind. He supposed that was part of why it had been so unbelievable at first that he and Noor were companions. She had come from a world of black and white.
Predator and prey.
Us and them.
The monsters and the innocents. Pangaea spoke of herself as a monster and Gareth’s face fell. Had those she’d already met here in Novus treated her so poorly? Did they gawk, and caw, and croon hurtful, distasteful words to her? Had they run in fear? Had his own kin fed into the idea that she was a boogeyman, some creature from a fairytale one told to children to keep them obedient? It pained him to see her speak about herself this way. No one should be made to resent themselves, reject themselves in this way. She couldn’t even meet his eye, and that troubled him as much as her words did.
He extended his neck again, this time pressing his muzzle to her shoulder in a comforting gesture, breathing softly. She reassured him that she was not only a mindless predator. That she was far from a monster, that circumstances had been unfortunate and that is what had brought them together. She spoke the words to him, but these were things that he already knew the moment his anger had dissipated upon the plains. He listened, though, as she needed to say them, not so much for his benefit as perhaps it was for herself. To confirm in her heart that this string of events, these acts of unexpected violence, were not who she was at her core.
“I think we met in the way the gods intended,” He spoke softly. His lips brushed her shoulder blade, just where her neck curved to her spine and her flight appendages began to grow. “And I know you are so much more, Pangaea,” he whispered against her flesh. If a stranger were to capture only this moment, they might have assumed the two were more like lovers than acquaintances. Gareth had that effect, unable to help himself from providing comfort, and blissfully unaware that his actions could be taken in any other measure than innocent and friendly.
A harsh breeze blew through the mountain pass, bringing with it the first faint flakes of snow, and taking the moment along with it. The stallion righted himself and nodded. “Yes, let’s. I know of a cave further along, but it will be a while before we reach it.” He started moving more swiftly now, though he made sure to keep an eye on the mare’s pace so that he did not strain her already weary muscles.
“The pass narrows at the ridge, and there are several places where you will need to follow my steps exactly. The trail is wide enough for you to step comfortably, but the last thing I want is for you to accidentally slip or cause a rock slide. It’ll take some concentrating, but I think we can make it before the snow becomes an issue.” And he knew that it would be an issue. He had been eyeing the sky regularly ever since the mare had brought the storm to his attention and the burden it carried had only increased as they continued to climb the mountain. Noor had been right to go on his own. It seemed that the Arma intended to keep them in her grips for as long as she could.
He cleared his throat, taking cool air in through his nares, the whiskers at the ends of his muzzle beginning to form frost with each breath. “We can take shelter in the cave once we arrive. I have some supplies stored there that should make the stay bearable, if not comfortable, until the storm passes if we need them.” He did not want to think about why he had enough supplies to accommodate two for the winter season, the icy blow of betrayal still stung deep in his chest. He pushed the feelings down with a harsh snort as he cleared a relatively large boulder from the narrowing path, watching it tumble down out of sight.
drowning deep in my sea of loathing
broken your servant I kneel
it seems what's left of my human side
is slowly changing in me
Her ears remained perked,expression surprised, eager to discover more about these plants that could have such a profound effect. Would it work on her as well? She's reminded quickly that she's not normal. Saurian Equus do not exist on this world. The time of its dinosaurs had come and gone. She was but a member of a dead race. Alone. Simple. An outdated creation. Ancient ... forgotten ... hadn't those scientists proved how she was an anomaly? A dangerous creature to be locked up away from the rest of the world.
The right plants may have uses, but was it worth wasting the ingredients on an anomaly like her. She hides these fears behind a tiny smile, "At least not all needs to be eaten, but do they work on any species? I'm ... only half horse, according to ... well, it doesn't matter." She didn't want to talk about that place, that time. The struggles, fears ... The murders I committed to escape. He ... would hate me. I ... don't want him to hate me. The sudden realization of her growing dependency on his company was equally alarming. That's how hearts break.
She distracts herself, as much as reminds herself what happens when you become attached, by telling her tale. She was expecting disgust, horror, any sort of negative emotion as she revealed the scar that had almost taken her life. She had been left in a very bad state for months, both from the loss of Jurassic as well as her questionable health. She wasn't expecting him to reach out towards her, towards the healed wound. She froze, as his muzzle neared her, but just short of touching her, he seemed to pause. He retreated after a second though, allowing her to breath again, "Unsightly. Isn't it?" She asks just to break the silence.
Proof of her monstrous appearance. She had seen a number of mares, so soft, elegant . . . Majestic. Ribbons in their hair, beautiful curls, so flawless. So perfect. And she was a boogeyman story to scare foals with. Foals because these beings didn't hatch from eggs. Among her own people, she felt normal. She was a ravishing warrior - her scars telling others of her success story. Here, she often felt like a heathen breaking into a socialite's event.
His touch chases those thoughts away faster than She was prepared for, his breath puffing against her skin. Her muzzle twists into a confused look. Why . . . Why was he touching her? Why did it make her feel better? He spoke so softly, certain they were meant to meet like this. His lips brushing against her Pelt was distracting, her stomach twisting in fuzzy knots again. The flutter of her belly increased at his words, her expression surprised, and suddenly feeling vulnerable, "Gareth ..." She whispers his name like a prayer, eyes closing and accepting the comfort being offered to her, "I don't want to be seen as a monster." Her voice was soft as she dropped her head, unconsciously turning her head, her cheek brushing against his, "It was all I was told when I came to this world.
"Locked away, deemed dangerous and forced to do tests, experiments. Prodded and poked and treated like a monster needed to be studied so they could destroy it the moment they deemed me too dangerous to keep alive. I ... I did horrible things to be able to escape." Her voice quivered as she admitted the experience out loud for the first time. "I don't want to be a monster- but isn't that what I am? I've seen the females of your race. Soft, and beautiful. They don't look like me, I'm wild while they are so cultured, chaotic while they are poise. How am I supposed to ever fit in? She pulls away first, golden gaze turning away from him, "I ... I'm sorry. I've soured this trek." She sighs heavily, as he rightnes himself, "I guess... You're just easy to talk to." She adds lamely, as if she wasn't embarrassed enough already, let's dig that hole deeper.
She jumps at the touch of snow on her hide, her gaze moving up to the sky. She nods in agreement, picking up her own pace while being mindful of her wounds. Her ears twitch when he mentions the path narrowing, step where he steps, "Lead the way Gareth." She replied before offering a brief, hesitating smile, "I'll trust you not to send me off the side of the mountain." She teased, though it didnt stop her from shivering, unused to the snow and cold of winter yet.bshe nods again as she carefully follows, her eyes following the rock down before returning her gaze to Gareth.
"Not much further, right Gareth?" She asks after a while later, the snow dappling her pelt and the cold making ber limbs begin to ache more.
looking at my own reflection
"Speech" Thoughts
@Gareth Notes: typed on my phone, hoping it is okay :)
when suddenly it changes
violently it changes
there is no turning back now
you've woken up the demon in me
Gareth’s mind was buzzing, anger flickering in his belly as he repeated in his head the words that Pangaea had shared with him before the trek became dangerous. It angered him that there were beings in this world that did not know the difference between right and wrong. That they did not know when to let be, that in their pursuit of knowledge that the destruction of others was seen as almost a necessity. In some part, he was glad for the mountain pass’s treachery. It had forced him to stay focused on leading Pangaea safely through the craggy corridors and past open chasms as the snow continued to blanket the world around them.
Still, he could not shake their early conversation. The thick sorrow that had choked her vocals as she pleaded with him not to be seen as a monster. Not so unlike Salome when she had returned to him a second time. The anger mixed with betrayal and grief deep in his barrel, twisting his stomach into tight knots. Salome had left him again, so soon after speaking such sweet words to soothe the ache in his heart after having abandoned him for the second time in their lives together. It had made him bitter, even if he was not quite yet ready to admit it to himself. It hardened his heart in an effort to protect him from the inevitable shattering that would follow if he allowed himself to indulge such things. It was why he had chosen to throw himself into his work, after all. Why he had chosen to seek out Luvena and apologize, to offer aide to her and her clinic as needed through the winter. That desire to bury his hurt and let it rot had fueled his need to heal others, and it was that same hurt that simmered below the surface now. Pangaea and Salome were not the same people, and he had already made peace with himself that the warrior woman would leave him once she was healed- hadn’t he?
He recounted her sparse words about her treatment, his imagination having filled in the rest with volatile images of masked and cloaked figures keeping the mare in chains, cutting at her flesh and jeering in an effort to goad her into some false response for their amusement. Tests and experiments she had said, but they both knew that what she had meant to say was torture. She had been held captive, tortured and made to believe that she was a foul creature to be exterminated. The stallion grit his teeth, focusing on clearing the snow in front of him as he forced himself to breathe control back into his lungs.
Pangaea did not know that she was beautiful. Perhaps not by the standards of others, perhaps not by the beliefs even he had once clung to as a boy. Salome had been so, after all; slender, delicate, almost small enough to cradle like a child in his arms. She had been that kind of beauty once. Now, she was hollow, wherever she was; broken, but still beautiful, in that achingly lonely way. He dismissed her visage from his mind with an irritated flick of his audits.
The words the reptilian mare had used to describe herself, wild, chaotic, terms that she had spoken as if they were a curse laid upon her rung in his ears. These things were a gift. Her strength, resilience, her freedom, and the long forgotten joy in the very pride of her being, these were gifts. And the shit of the world had crawled from the depths, dragged her through the wretched sewage and convinced her that she was not the most gorgeous creature to have ever graced this earth.
Gareth had never been one to stand by while a woman was treated poorly. Chivalrous would be an apt term for it, but he had always seen it as so much more. His grandmother had taught him the strength of mares, how their bodies warp and break and form life in their bellies. How their spirit was gentle, even in the most outwardly vicious of appearances. She had taught him respect, and to raise up those around him. The thought of some distant ‘other’ whose sole purpose was to destroy these things filled him with a cool fire, the kind of rage which could force the world to stand still if unleashed. He swallowed hard, grateful that their climb had pushed her to his flank so that she did not see the ugly hatred that twisted his features.
When Gareth had decided to heal Pangaea of her wounds, it had only been the wounds of her flesh he’d been concerned with. Now, after having spent several days traveling with her, he could see that he had a choice before him, the answer clear. He could heal her legs, and nothing more. He could make sure that she would walk and fly again, and then have her be on her way. But he wouldn’t; he couldn’t.
The gold vial, while cold against his flesh, felt briefly warm as he considered the will of his grandmother. The warrior needed healing of the body, mind and soul. The stallion had resolved himself of that on their expedition to his cave already. He just needed to work through his anger, first. Anger was not an emotional salve to apply liberally to any wound. Like any other healing tool, it was to be used with great consideration and care. It would do him no good to show her this ugliness he felt on her behalf. It would be insulting at best, and it may scare her at worst. She had, after all, followed him deep into the snowy mountains. It would not be too far of a leap for her to assume the anger was directed at her specifically and it would undo what progress they had made in forming trust. It would shatter like glass.
The trail had begun to open up ahead of them, and soon they were able to walk at each other’s side once more. “Yes,” he rasped, clearing his throat before venturing to speak again. “You see that next hill? Once we cross that, the cave will be on the other side.”
His pace quickened, now that they had the room to move about more freely, the feathers at his hooves having gathered clumps of muddy snow during their ascent. His pelt shivered in anticipation, rippling through his body like a wave. It did not take long for them to crest this final obstacle before unveiling the landscape on the other side.
Before them stood an open valley, sloping gently down before widening further into dense pine trees. To the left of them were the frozen remnants of a waterfall that had run nearly dry in the fall before the temperatures plummeted to ice. Behind this curtain of glass in motion lay the mouth of a fairly large cave. It was difficult to gauge at this distance how deep into the mountain it burrowed, but suffice to say it clear that it would hold both of them rather comfortably. He nodded to the cave. “There it is,” he said, masking the pain he felt at seeing it once more in this state. Was he cursed to live his life on this mountain in this blasted cave every winter for eternity? It was beginning to feel like it.
“Come on, let’s get you inside and up off of those legs. I’ll start a fire.”
