everyone smiles in the same language
It is a whisper, passing from lips to ears, all through the streets.
“Commander Marisol has called a meeting.”
Fiona is in the midst of an arrangement, stems surrounding her with blooms of warm golds, deep violets, white and various shades of greenery. She’s not expecting the hushed tones that go rippling through the crowds like a wave. Something, the Champion’s gut tells her, is not right.
Something is wrong.
She pushes past the door of the small shop, lavender eyes watching equines moving toward a singular, share destination, and so too the painted girl steps into the flow of bodies and goes. Her heart is already racing far too quickly, beating frantically against her ribcage like a trapped bird. That feeling in her stomach is like stones, heavy and unsettling. It is a voice in the back of her mind, repeating again and again, wrong, wrong, wrong. Why else would Marisol be calling a meeting instead of Asterion?
Where is Asterion?
When she reaches the meeting place and sees the Commander standing there, alone—alone—Fiona wonders it again. Where is Asterion? She looks at Marisol, with her spear and her storm and steel eyes, with one wing raised toward the sky. The air is hot and heavy and Fiona’s heart it runs like it is being chased.
And then—
It stops. It skips, and trips, and stumbles, and struggles to get back up again. “Asterion is missing,” Marisol says, and her lips are moving but there doesn’t seem to be any sound coming out.
Fiona looks at Marisol but she sees Asterion, standing at her door in the rain, without a single drop upon him.
She sees the look on his face when the woman greets him, with real words. Not written.
“Have I told you before how wonderful you are?”
Fiona sees him at her counter, lifting a freshly baked cinnamon roll from the tray.
“Have I told you before...?”
The teas and spices he had brought her are still sitting on her kitchen counter, waiting to be put away. Untouched, while she considers the best recipes to use them in. He had just been there, in her home. Standing on her doorstep, smiling at her, sharing in her joy.
“Have I...?”
~~~
Fiona realizes that others are speaking. She looks up and Marisol has stepped closer to the gathered horses, and Corrdelia is there, and Rhone. And she looks around and remembers that once, Florentine had entrusted her to represent these equines. To act in their best interest; to be their voice and their heart.
Asterion had trusted her to continue that work. He had done so many kind things for her, for them all. He had always put his court and his people first.
Fiona breathes, and it is unsure and unsteady and she is both of those things, she knows, but there are also so many other things she must be as well. She looks at Marisol and, after a moment, takes a step forward, away from the crowd. And then another, and more, until she is before the Regent, their new Sovereign.
Her lavender eyes look into the other woman’s, sharp and grey, and then she closes the distance between them until their shoulders are pressed together and she can lay her head over Marisol’s withers in a tight embrace.
Fiona closes her eyes, and the first of her tears slips down her painted cheeks.
Somehow, she finds it in herself to smile anyway. It is a fleeting, wistful thing, but it reminds her that none of them are ever alone, and in this they don’t have to be alone either.
“Perhaps we can hold a vigil, on the beach, in their memory,” Fiona says when she finally steps back. The suggestion is a gentle knocking, passed across their thoughts. “Asterion did so love the sea.” She smiles again, this time for everyone.
They are stronger together, and she knows that together they can get through this.
<3 | "thought-casting"
rallidae | argenticide
