Raglan
may the bridges i burn light the way
Raglan hadn’t expected to find so many stars in the sky of Solterra, had assumed for some reason that the hate of Solis was strong enough to blot out even the infinite lights of Caligo’s skin. Though as he gazed heavenward, the tips of his curved horns brushing coolly against the bloody bay of his rump, the Crow slowly realized that he was wrong about many things — most things, actually.
He had tasted the feast foods of the Lord of Day, and the Warrior God had not rained terror and blood down upon him. He had drank cool water, laughed among strangers, found a sort of acceptance in the arms of what he had thought to be a nation of enemies and warmongers. The notion had gotten the stallion to thinking, though had not brought him close enough to that bottomless pit of despair that stood just on the other side of reminiscing. Yes, Raglan considered Denocte from a safe distance, as a Terrastellan would, as a foreigner would.
For that was what he was, wasn’t it? He had abandoned Denocte when she had abandoned him; had cast aside the land that had been his Mother and fled the very shores where she laid her head. Her bones, the Crow knew, had shaken that day; the day her borders had burned and her gates and snapped shut and her Trueborn children had fled under the cover of her own shadow. How she must have moaned, his beloved Motherland, wept and cried out for her progeny, to defend and love her as she had protected and nurtured them.
Yet, they had abandoned her, every last one of her most beloved: The Bruised King, the Stormdancer, the Drunken Warden, the Scaled Emissary, the Bloodfaced Regent, and each and every one of her Crows. None of them were innocent, most were likely dead, though Raglan in his heart of hearts could not wish them restful sleep or steady steps, least of all himself. The boy had been just that — a boy, when he fled in terror and in confusion, but the decisions of a boy sowed the regrets of a man.
And the regrets of a man would dog Raglan’s steps until the end of his days.
Blinking pupilless silver eyes, the stallion felt each ache and breath and beat of his battered heart as he fell back into himself. Into this body that was called beautiful, this body that had carried him away from those he loved when they had needed him most. What a betrayal of self, to be called beautiful when one had performed such ugly deeds. Yet, it was all the stallion truly had left in the world, the last surviving gift of his Mother and his true God, and so he would cherish it with what strength he had left.
Raglan stood in a cool and crystal clear pool up to his belly in an oasis in the middle of a desert. He stood still in a Kingdom that felt like a million miles and a million lifetimes away from what he had been and what he had known. He felt unsure, he felt lost, he felt oh, so very afraid.
He hadn’t expected to find so many stars in this sky.
"Talk"
This wasn’t supposed to be so SAD, Raglan. Wtf.
@Nefertari
