[Quest] is it safe out there?

[Antiope]

if the crown fits, when the sword lifts

Antiope is standing at the gate to the court when the snow starts to fall, thick and heavy, to the ground. She is standing there, with her axe held high above her head glowing so fiercely like a beacon. It is slick and dark and wet with melted snow. Horses are coming in off the prairie, slowly, one and then two and then three, until she thinks that anyone who might still be left out there is finally within the court walls and at least closer to shelter here than they were.

Until someone upon the wall, spelling the ramparts, shouts that he thinks he saw a shadow moving out there between the blasts of blizzard winds.

The tigress woman narrows her sapphire blue eyes and tries to see between the flakes that are big and wet and stick to her skin as stubborn as burrs. But she sees no movement out there, in the endless sea of white that Sideralis has become.

The wind is cold and biting and Antiope doesn’t know how long this storm will last, but she knows that anyone who gets trapped out in it will surely fall ill, if nothing worse. So, too, she knows if there is any chance of an equine being out there yet, she must go find them. Thus, Antiope disregards the shouted warnings of the guards as she passes the threshold of the court walls and disappears into the blizzard.

Soon, the wall and the gate and the court is gone behind her. Lost to the snow bearing down from the angry clouds above. But Antiope continues to push forward, using the light of her axe to show her the way. At first, she thinks she is going straight through the prairie, until she comes across a path cutting through the snow and the only scent around is hers.

And it happens again, and again, until Antiope finally accepts that she continues to get turned around in the snow. Her frustration builds as she comes to a stop, her lips pulling back in almost a growl. She had been made a warrior, not a tracker. This was not her specialty, and now she too would be lost out here.

She is going to accept defeat when she hears it, passing on the wind. A call for help. She lifts her head, ears twisting to catch the direction it’s coming from. “Hello?” she shouts, hoping whoever it is will hear her. Please call again, she thinks, let me hear you.

And she does, a little bit louder this time as if they are trying to get closer. Antiope immediately starts to move in the direction of the voice, talking to it as if they were right there. Every so often she can hear them answer something back, over the sound of the racing wind. Antiope forgets the snow, forgets the chill on her skin, until, there, through the snow, she can see them.

The closer she gets, the more details she notices.

They are a boy, young, willowy. Not a colt but certainly not older than 2 years yet. His coat is smoky, and it’s difficult to tell if the flecks of white on him is snow or markings. But it’s his eyes that move something in her, bright and green as the jungle she had once called home. Bright and green as the eyes of her lover and daughter. “Come on, we have to go,” she says, shaking loose the memories, “stand with me between the wind and yourself, let’s get back to the court.”

The boy makes his way to her side, pressing close to her. Antiope takes a moment to try and get their bearing, and although she has no idea which way will take them back to the court, she knows she cannot show him her uncertainty. So, they go forward, “This way,” she coaxes and begins to walk.

She doesn’t know how long he’s been out here, but she can feel him shivering against her skin. He stumbles, every so often, and she nudges him to standing and convinces him to keep going. They lost. So very lost, and Antiope knows it, but she refuses to give up. The blizzard does not relent, and neither will she.

Then, he stumbles and does not stand back up. The boy’s body shakes violently with the cold and he struggles to keep his eyes open. “Don’t close your eyes, stay with me. Tell me something about yourself… what’s your name?”

“Elioud.”

“Okay, okay good Elioud. My name is Antiope, and we’re going to get somewhere warm really soon. I just need you to stay focused on me, alright?” He nods his head, though somewhat feebly, and Antiope knows that she is running out of time, but she can’t lose him. She can’t. She looks up at the clouds that are releasing their fury down upon them and suddenly realizes something she can’t believe she hadn’t thought of before.

Her magic.

The storm is wild, and boundless, and more than enough energy for her needs.

Antiope takes a deep breath and focuses. She has yet to use her magic in this way, and she has no idea if it will even work, but she has to try. So, she begins to draw from the storm, siphoning its energy into herself. The lioness in her bones is pleased, and oh so hungry, but her stamina for such things is far too weak to do it for long. Precious seconds is all she has, and so she tries to push the energy through her and into the boy.

Once, this would have worked instantaneously. Here, now, Antiope doesn’t know if it will work at all with the new limits of her magic. She can only hope that it might, for his sake. She waits, a breath, two, and though he reacts initially by lifting his head with a confused look in his vibrant eyes, when she asks for him to try standing, he can’t.

Her magic is not strong enough to help him how she needs to. It’s not strong enough to do good things like she wants it to. What use is her magic, if she can only use it in war? How did she end up here, how did it come to this?

Antiope stands over the boy to shield him from what she can of the wind and the snow and closes her eyes to think. She is losing him, and with him she somehow feels like she is losing Rezar and her daughter all over again. There had been no saving them, not from the anger of the gods, not from their jealousy or their greed. But there had to be a way to save this boy from the cold.

Antiope might not know this world’s gods, but she would not give this boy up to them yet.

If her magic does not work on him, she knows someone that her magic does work on, and that is her. She could carry him, and use it to keep herself from getting tired long enough to get them to the castle. It’s his only hope, and so she has to try. “Elioud, I need you to try and move for me. I need you to climb onto my back so that I can carry you, do you understand?” Antiope says, looking into the boys half-lidded eyes, “I’m not leaving you.”

She lays down into the snow and uses her muzzle to guide the boy to his unsteady legs, boosting him up over her back. With a grunting breath, Antiope stands. He is heavier than he looks, for being such a gangly thing, for sure. As she walks, she lets her axe hover near his body in an attempt to keep him warm with the heat its glow lets off.

Although Antiope could get much more reliable energy from the storm, she can’t trust her magic to do it long enough for it to be useful. So, as her body tires, she knows the only way to do it is to use her own. But she tries her best to moderate it, so that she doesn’t exhaust herself and doom them both. The lioness prowls through her veins, extending her stamina and bolstering her strength in small bursts, enough just to keep her going.

Antiope has no choice but to continue to do it as she wanders, hoping to see the shape of the court come into view in the distance.

And then, it does.

What seems like hours later, it does, finally. Like big, looming, shadowy sentries there it rises through the scattered snowfall.

Antiope makes it to the wall and begins to follow it around until she finds the gate, where she sees that the ramparts are still burning, spelled at last. And the streets are empty, and there is nobody around to see her here, with this boy. Antiope glances over her shoulder and can see Elioud slipping away before her eyes. So, she has one last chance to get him into the keep, to the medics and the warmth.

There is no time now for reservedness. Antiope, she draws on her magic and lets the lioness loose. And she is starved and lustful and she consumes. And Antiopes eyes glow, and glow, and glow, until there is no blue left to be seen but only gold. Until she is almost flying through the streets, her hooves striking the snow so hard it sends it flying up around her in a flurry.

Antiope pushes herself, and pushes herself, until she is climbing the steps to the castle, and someone yells that she is coming and the guards pull the doors open and she nearly collapses inside. Her sides are heaving, and her eyes are fading from ichor gold to sapphire blue, and her legs are quivering, but all she says is, “Take care of the boy, now!” She will rest, when she knows he is safe.

as the song lifts, and the world tilts

credits

@Random Events