Ipomoea had left him standing there in the Mors with a wicked smile upon his face. Ramses was finding it hard to maintain that facade, however, and now he seemed to be allowing his heart to soften. It was his baby brother, after all. The coyote couldn’t dare let someone see his softer side but with the boy… just maybe.
"Damn him," his voice echoed around him as he stared into the beyond, his heart pounding as frustration appeared on his face. The stallion had begun tracking his brother several days ago and it seemed he would never catch him. But, he could taste that flowery scent upon the breeze and he’d somehow found himself in the depths of a forest, following trails and hidden paths. Ramses didn't observe long but the beauty around him was hard to ignore. The wood was absolutely wild, a living, breathing thing that whispered and touched. Fall had settled over the area and his scarlet eyes admired the changing colors and observed the silence of autumn quietly. But, he moved on, his attention returning to that one aroma he sought after, catching it once again upon his lips.
His ability to track so well was in his blood, the Davke were trained to do so, if not they’d lose their way in the desert. This was a skill the creature was adept at, he may have not been the best fighter but when it came to tracking, he excelled. Ramses had come across a roaring river and he’d followed it south, figuring that Ipomoea had come this way. His scent had grown faint and now, Ramses allowed his intuition and instinct to take over. It was as if he could see the trail his sibling had left behind and when he closed his crimson eyes, the path became even more clear.
Finally, after following the river for two days, he’d come across the Dawn Court capitol. That floral scent was soft on the air but the man had grown so used to it, it was easy to pick out amongst the array of others.
The beast did not observe the beauty around him, he simply trudged into the courtyard of the palace, lifting his maw to the heavens. The coyote was searching, he was looking for that painted coat that he shared and that calm, beautiful scent. That thing inside him remained quiet, no longer fighting him when it came to his brother.
"I’m sorry," the Davke born whispered, his breath catching as he walked slowly down a hallway. Perhaps his brother would realize he did indeed care, in his own… odd way.
"Speaking." Tag: @Ipomoea OOC: I’m sorry this is so short!
From the moment the red skinned man stepped into Delumine, the trees had begun to whisper of his passing.
Ipomoea had not heard it at first; the borders were a long ways from the capitol. But the trees talked to the grass, and the grass to the flowers, and the flowers to the vines that crept up the citadel’s walls. By the time Ramses reached the Dawn Court, so too had that silent, ancient language. And although he may not have known, each plant he passed had watched him.
He was in the garden when the roses suddenly stiffened. He lowered his head, slowly, to the center of an unfurled flowers. Its petals were as soft as silk against his muzzle, shivering gently as he exhaled over them.
For a moment the flower seemed to be laughing, amused by a joke it did not seem willing to share with him. Ipomoea frowned, and extended a questioning thought towards it.
Finally, a soft, simple answer came to him: he’s here. He pulled away before the flower could tell him who. But all around him, it suddenly seemed as if the entire garden were laughing. The grass around him reached up to caress his fetlocks, and then, before he could convince himself to do anything else, Ipomoea was walking. The garden passed by him in a blur, and soon the soft dirt floor soon gave way to the marble of the halls.
He did not pause when he reached the long hallway; he walked through it without seeing, his mind turning far too slowly for his liking. But even when he combed his mind and tried to imagine who, he stubbornly refused to think of the one person he knew, somehow, that it would be.
The hallway intersected another, and he turned without hesitation. His hoofbeats rang out with each step, sharp and bright. Turn after turn, he navigated the hallways with little more than instinct and memory. Vines reached in through the windows as he passed, their night-blooming flowers opening briefly in his presence before they closed back up once more.
When the hallway again intersected another, he stopped abruptly. To his left the hallway opened into the courtyard beyond. But to his right -
The red and white man was as clear to him as that day out in the desert, the same as his mind remembered him. For a second he just watched - Ramses was walking down the hallway, his back turned to him. His wings open and closed quickly, nervously, grasping at the air like they were trying to fly away.
But then he lifted his head, and in a calm, quiet voice, he asked, “What are you doing here?”
It was not spoken in an unfriendly tone.
But the words made it clear; the bone-and-fur-clad man was out of place here.
Ramses had lost himself in the serenity of the Delumine capitol. There was a silence here and even though it had been quiet in the Mors, there was something different, something peaceful in the air here. It settled around him, embracing him in a warm floral breath of wind mingling with the aroma of well loved books. It was such a foreign experience and yet, he found comfort in it. The Dawn Court held no whispers of the brutality and ruthlessness of Solterra. There was no reason for him to watch over his shoulder, the citizens here wouldn't harm him. The coyote was aware of the fact that this court held the most intellectually advanced people on the continent, being close to them could be beneficial. A sinister smile appeared on his speckled maw as he imagined the possibilities.
The creature was disturbed by a familiar voice, Ipomoea, the voice reaching him from behind. Ramses wondered how he’d allowed his dear brother to sneak up on him so easily, but he had been so engrossed in his own thoughts... “What are you doing here?”
The question wasn’t unkind but seemed accusatory and the red man chuckled as he turned to face his brother.
"Now, now, is that any way to speak to family?" the coyote asked, a smirk crawling across his lips.
However, the smile subsided quickly as his crimson eyes suddenly narrowed and his face crinkled up. Ramses wished to speak but the words tangled on his tongue and he shook his head in frustration, the bones he was dressed in rattling. The horrid sound echoed down the hallway, a disturbing noise in the stillness around him.
"I’m sorry," he blurted, his voice soft, his eyes downcast, finally squeezing those two awful words out. Had he ever apologized to anyone? (Of course he hadn't.)
Returning his attention to the prince of flowers, he allowed that beast in his chest to speak. However, the monster only drew deeper into him and for the first time in a long time, Ramses felt his heart beating.
"I only wish to know you," the man admitted as he stared at Ipomoea. Of course he didn’t belong here, he was a ruthless predator surrounded by the elegance and beauty of flora.
"I seen them cast you into the desert. I wanted to save you but I would’ve been killed," his breathing hitched as he stared into the eyes that mirrored his own. Maybe, his only sibling could undertstand the raging in his chest, maybe he shared the feeling.
"Speaking." Tag: @Ipomoea OOC: I'm not sure how Ramses is feeling omg
The stallion - the stranger - turned to face him, laughter on his lips and in his eyes. Ipomoea’s eyes hardened.
”I already told you, we’re not -“ he begins, his voice low and tense. But the chestnut cuts him off before he can get the rest of the words out.
For a moment his expression is unreadable.
For a moment his heart is leaping violently inside of his chest.
He thinks he can taste the Mors still on the back of his tongue, the sand and the heat and the wind. Like his body remembers how it feels still to be cast out into that endless, dry sea, even when his mind has forgotten it.
Ipomoea had been so young - not even old enough to wean. He did not even know his true birthday, because from that moment on he had only known the day that he opened his eyes in a Solterran home, and had taken that to mark each year by. And now this stranger was telling him that he remembered, even when Po didn’t; that he was the child their parents wanted, instead of the one they left out to die.
He did not hold any animosity towards his parents - for most of his life, he had hardly given them a second thought. Grainne had been the closest thing to a mother for him, but from the moment he had been turned into an orphan on the streets of Solterra, he had been a wanderer and content to be one at that. Independence had thankfully come naturally to him.
But looking at the chestnut, with the eyes that almost matched his own, he wondered why it had been one and not the other. Why would a parent choose one son over the other, love the first and doom the second? ”You saw?” His voice is little more than a whisper, but it’s steady. He turns back to the stranger, and perhaps for the first time begins to truly look at him. The way half his body was white and the other half red, much like his own. The similarities were there, if only he chose to look for them.
He lifts his chin, and swallows past the pain. ”Can you tell me why?”
The coyote’s eyes never strayed from his brother, his little brother, the creature who now stood before him. It was hard for Ramses to believe that this strapping young stallion was that colt that was thrown out into the desert.
”You saw?”
A sigh escapes him as he lowers those crimson eyes for a moment, memories of that terrible day resurfacing as he inhales Ipomoea’s question. Of course he’d seen but there was nothing he could do. He had only been young, only two, and if he would’ve stepped forward, if he would’ve dared to oppose the Davke elders, he would’ve been killed. At the time, the thought of his own blood spattered on the sand had terrified him, now, he wished he would’ve saved his little brother.
”Can you tell me why?”
Finally, the beast lifts his gaze to the other man again as his mind begins racing. What did he say? Should he be honest? Should he tell a lie? Was there a way to paint it in grace and elegance, to manipulate the painted stallion?
No, his brother deserved the truth and as he begins to speak, Ramses can’t help but narrow his eyes, a pain deep in his chest emerging.
“When you were born, you were so small and frail,” the words come softly but sternly, a statement not to be questioned.
“The Davke had no remorse for such things, it was a long lived tradition to hand the weak over to the desert’s clutches,” he continues, his voice unwavering.
“They do not believe in the traditional family, I do not even remember exactly who our parents are, we were to be raised by the hoarde,” the coyote explains.
“There was nothing to be done, it was a simple act to the Davke, they carried no mercy in their hearts, but I want you to know little brother…. If I could go back now, I would’ve stepped forward,” the red stallion admits his body quivering for a moment, the remorse evident in his tone.
“I was so young but if it meant I could’ve spent my childhood with you, I would’ve done something, I would have rather died then allow you to be cast out.”
“I am so sorry for allowing it,” those words pour from his maw, leaving an odd taste in their wake, words he never spoke.
“There is nothing I want more than to get to know my only family,” the man says, an odd smile crawling across his lips.
This was the first time in his life he’d shown such emotion and there was no hiding the shame and embarrassment that came with it.
"Speaking." Tag: @Ipomoea OOC: This was odd to write lol
For a while, as the chestnut sighed and began to speak, and for the first time since they first met out in the desert lost the smirk that Ipomoea had seen whenever he crossed his mind, all he could do was watch him.
In the absence of all that feral humor, he could begin to think that maybe he was telling the truth. Of course it was something he had already known, somewhere in the back of his mind where his memories were vague and lacking, but until now it had not been something he was willing to believe. Ipomoea had grown up an orphan - his earliest memory was of being an orphan, being alone on the streets of Solterra. It had become a part of his identity, a simple fact of who he was. He had not tortured himself with thoughts of the parents that did not want him, not since he was a foal. The traveling merchants who had taken him in had taught him to not be ashamed of that, the mare that had nursed him back to health had taught him that he mattered more than that.
“The Davke,” he echoed, when the other had finished his tale. The pelts and bones he dressed himself in told the story well enough, but still it was shocking to hear it for himself. “You’re saying that you - that we - are of Davke blood.” It was not phrased as a question.
The thought makes his heart skip a beat, though whether it was in fear or understanding he would never know. It’s the same rush of fire he felt when he had looked into Raum’s and Legion’s eyes, the same trembling fury that had promised he could do more than grow flowers.
Ipomoea swallowed, tasting bile at the back of his throat.
“If this is true,” he turns away, but he can’t stop seeing the coyote teeth wrapped around Ramses’ leg, or the skull peeking out at him with empty eyes over his shoulder, or the undeniable horse rib that circles his throat. “Then there was nothing you could have done for me. Not without being thrown into the desert yourself.”
But he can’t stop the selfish thought that runs through his mind like a ghost, the vicious pride that says I would have done it for you. Even when you didn't for me.
Crimson eyes never left the boy before him, his younger brother, that weak, fragile thing that had grown into this man. Ramses tilts his head and a sigh escapes him as Ipomoea speaks, the questions coming, questions Ramses hoped he’d never have to explain.
“The Davke,” “You’re saying that you - that we - are of Davke blood.”
The coyote slowly nods, a silent answer to the other painted stallion’s question. He can feel his heart thumping in his chest and a sharp pain follows, something he’d never felt before. Was it remorse or guilt? What was slowly eating away at him? What was he to do? “If this is true,”
Ears swivel and the man continues to watch his brother very, very carefully, fearing his next words. "Then there was nothing you could have done for me. Not without being thrown into the desert yourself.”
The desert dweller sighs in relief, knowing that the flowery boy now understands. There truly was nothing he could’ve done and now, that thought he’d pushed away for so many years would haunt him forever.
“I let you down,” he whispers, hanging his head in shame.
“Tell me how I can try and make up for it, please let me stay brother,” Ramses pleads, his voice cracking, embarrassed at his own begging.
“There is nothing left in Solterra for me, I have nowhere else to go,” he admits, refusing to look up and face the judgement he was sure to find on Ipomoea’s face.
Finally, swallowing that unknown emotion, Ramses manages to look up, that dreadful gaze resting upon his younger brother.
“Look at you,” he says, an explanation to follow.
“You never needed us, the Davke would’ve held you back from all of this,” he admits, knowing Po would understand what he was saying. This boy was well established, he would always be cared for and loved by his people. What did Ramses have but the screeching of the dry desert wind? And now, he’d bared his soul to a near stranger, something he’d never done before. This was all new territory and he hadn’t decided if he liked it or not but for one in his life, the beast in his chest had stopped roaring….
"Speaking." Tag: @Ipomoea OOC: Po what are you doing to my son?!
The information was startling, directly at odds with everything Ipomoea had ever known. He had never met a Davke in person - but the stories, the rumors, their very appearance said enough. They led a wild life, a savage life. The appaloosa had never heard of a Davke who loved flowers, let alone one blessed with the same magic as he.
Had Ramses found him a year ago and revealed his heritage then, perhaps the news would had unsettled him more than it did now. Ipomoea’s face was passive, expressionless. Aside from the way his brow slowly begins to crease as he processes the information, there was no obvious change in his demeanor.
Inside, he was a rage of emotions.
And yet, there was a small voice that whispered in the back of his mind with smug satisfaction: why did you expect anything else?
The realization sunk in slowly, like the sun rising over the mountains. The now-familiar anger was beginning to rear its ugly head within his chest, sharp teeth stretched into a smile. Anger the likes of which he had never imagined himself capable of until the last year - anger that had been steadily rising ever since Raum’s first attack on the Night Court.
Ipomoea swallowed thickly, and choked all that anger back down.
And that voice continued to whisper - it all makes sense now, doesn’t it?
His brow creased further, looking at his brother.
“You can stay.” His words come haltingly. How could he say anything else? How could he turn away a guest without reason, especially one from Solterra, where he had pointed so many away from the deserts to here?
He closes his eyes, giving a quick, sharp jerk of his head. “You can stay as long as you’d like. I would never dream of turning you away.”
He isn’t sure if he’s speaking now as his brother, welcoming Ramses home; or as a king, inviting a guest in. Maybe it’s both, maybe it’s neither - Ipomoea brushes the thought aside, unwilling to dwell on it. He swallows thickly again.
Is that sand he tastes on his tongue? Or is he imagining it?
The wind coming in through the open window is warm, far too warm for winter in Delumine. When he strains his ears he can hear hoofbeats - but not the steady clack of hooves on cobblestones. Ipomoea can hear the rhythmic pounding of bare feet on sand, of scarred horses stretched out beneath a desert sun -
His eyes flutter open.
“If you’ll excuse me-“ he cuts Ramses off, unable to meet his red gaze as he turns away. “I have someplace to be.”
He’s already walking away when he suddenly stops, and turns to look at the chestnut over his shoulder. “I…” the words die on his tongue. I what?
“I’ll see you-“ he swallows again, meeting Ramses’ red eyes. Eyes so similar to his own. “-tomorrow? The gardens, maybe?” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips. The gardens, really? He doubts it would be Ramses’ first choice of sightseeing.
But it’s too late to take them back. So he waits.
@ramses
another abrupt exit gosh po what are you doing
The coyote inhaled all of his brother’s words as he watched the miniscule changes move across his dark face. His own emotions threatened to choke him as he turned his ruby eyes to the ground. Was he really welcome? Did his brother really want him here? Did Ipomoea really want to keep him here as his brother or as a guest?
There simply wasn’t a good answer for these questions but at his brother’s next words, Ramses almost bristled.
“If you’ll excuse me-“ “I have someplace to be.”
Was it really that hard to have a discussion? Ramses’ brow crinkled at his words. A pain he’d never experienced bloomed in his chest as he stared at the other stallion. Yes, they were different and of course Ramses hadn’t saved him but what could he have done? Did he really deserve to be punished now when he was only a boy when he’d made that decision.
“I’ll see you-“ “-tomorrow? The gardens, maybe?”
Did he want to? Did Ipomoea really want to see him again?
“I’ll see you then,” Ramses said with a nod, pulling himself from the conversation.
He could now feel himself distancing, he felt his heart hardening once more. He’d tried so hard to get close to this other being, one that shared the same blood, he’d even left the only home he’d ever known. Now, he felt that beast once again screaming and roaring just behind his ribcage.
With that predatory instinct returning, he turned from his brother, the king, without a second glance and walked off into a court he knew absolutely nothing about and yet, he refused to grovel to this boy anymore.
"Speaking." Tag: @Ipomoea OOC: uh oh... sorry this is so short
With Ramses’ confirmation he nods, a curt, sharp jerk of his head that feels too mechanical, like a machine that has not been properly oiled. To make up for it he smiles, and his eyes seem to be saying forgive me even when he can’t force his lips to say the words. There’s something like relief filling his chest, but whether it’s relief that Ramses agreed, or relief to be moving again -
- He isn’t sure.
But he doesn’t question it.
His wings flutter nervously at his ankles as he lingers, a heartbeat longer than he should have. “Great,” he says, feeling the need to fill the silence that’s already beginning to stretch between them.
And he’s about to smile again, to reassure Ramses or maybe just himself, when the red stallion suddenly turns. And whereas Po had looked back, Ramses does not.
Thoughts of the desert choke his throat with sand again, as he watches his brother leave. And Ipomoea has to force himself not to think of the other time he did not look back, that time in the desert when he had called, and called, and called, but no one had answered. He tries to not hold it against him.
But as his hooves echo against the floor, it’s hard to think of them as anything other than a woodpecker and a wolf, always longing, always waiting, always hungry.
@ramses
uhh yeah new thread soon?! didn't realize it's been so long
