we're climbing until we transcend
higher, higher to where the skies end
Morrighan stands at the top of a hill looking down at Denocte. It's practically all she does these days, watching over the lands, making sure no one is doing anything stupid. Really, it's to try and distract herself from her muddled thoughts of that night. When she let someone into her heart even just the slightest bit. She remembers the feeling of being touched and touching and it feels- it feels-
She doesn't want to feel.
The only emotion she seems to be most comfortable with is fury. Maybe it's because of the fire that is always burning inside her. A Shed-Star once told her it's because she's an Aries, but she isn't sure she believes in all of that. Being furious is easier though. She can be alone and she can burn things.
At the top of the hill, there is a flame in front of her melting the snow around her. It had just snowed this morning and the sky is still overcast like more may be on the way. She didn't care because she could just melt it all away again.
Unfortunately, the fire didn't do anything to make her forget. She so badly wanted to forget. If she had any rules at all for herself, it was to not let anyone in and make herself vulnerable, but yet she did anyway. Consumed by hormones or something, just because she was pretty and smelled good, she got too close.
(Really, she just doesn't want to admit she's scared. The thought of being that close to someone- the thought of loving someone- scares her)
Before she had screamed, but today she doesn't do that. Bram is by her side giving her a worried look, but does not speak yet. He's learned to keep quiet more often now, although he'll still throw a sarcastic remark here or there. Now, he might actually be considering consoling her by the way his yellow eyes look up at her.
"What?" Morrighan asks, breaking the silence. She's growing tired of feeling his gaze burning into her.
"I just don't think you should beat yourself up so much. Feelings are normal," he says through their telepathy. She rolls her eyes at him and moves a few steps away.
"Don't start with this," she warns, her ears pinning back.
Has it already been a year since she arrived on a boat at the shores of this land? The striped woman can hardly believe it, and even more than that can hardly believe the position she has been entrusted in that time. So much has happened in the past year and yet it seems like so little compared to the life Antiope has lived up until now. Novus is practically a utopia compared to a battlefield.
She crosses the prairie at a casual trot—gait languid and long—her hair twisted up high so that it doesn’t drag against the covering of snow on the ground. Everything is blanketed in the stuff, and even the sky doesn’t seem quite sure whether it’s done with them yet or not. When it gets thick and heavy, the Regent finds she misses the jungle. It never snowed there, though she encountered it on occasion while fighting.
Ahead, she spies two shapes standing atop a knoll and her pace slows. At first it takes her a moment to pick them apart against the brightness of the world, but it’s clear that one is an equine and the other a much shorter creature. A canine of some sort, perhaps. The closer she gets, she begins to pick out details and discovers that she recognizes the equine is Morrighan. The Warden’s voice drifts toward her on the cold air, but she can’t quite make out what she’s saying.
Antiope approaches the pair unhurriedly from behind, blue eyes bright as the sky hiding behind the cloud cover. Her steps in the snow no doubt give her away before she speaks. “I hope I’m not interrupting something,” she says, her voice trailing slightly to leave an open ended sense to the words. A glance passes between the canine and the Warden with a spark of curiosity. “Who is the wolf?”
we're climbing until we transcend
higher, higher to where the skies end
She is brooding over it all in a moment of reflection. The fire she had started didn't last very long, the downside of still not having quite the same amount of magic as she used to. Morrighan stares down at an empty circle of melted snow. She wonders what it would've been like if she had never been dropped in Novus. There would be no Al'Zahra and no confusing feelings of love. Times seemed simpler then in Ourania with all the focus on war. Looking at Bram again, she thinks about how she wouldn't be bonded to him. Instead, their kind would be at war with each other.
But then, there would be no Denocte, no Warden rank, no Isra or Antiope. Despite all the things she's at war with herself on, these bigger pieces give her purpose now. More purpose than she had within her kingdom in her homeland. It had to mean something.
As if on cue, Antiope appears over the hill, looking curiously at the pair. Morr almost forgot the mare hadn't met Bram yet since he had been off hunting the last time the women were together.
"You're not," she replies with a huff, glaring at her wolf companion as she typically does. He's learned not to be phased by it and simply sits down all content now that they had company. "That's Bram, my… companion," she explains, the word still bitter on her tongue. The wolf doesn't bother holding in his laugh and Morr rolls her eyes. "Honestly Caligo just has a really shit sense of humor."
And she feels it's true. Now that she has spent her time in the Court and learning their ways, her faith in Caligo has slowly grown. But that doesn't mean she completely agrees with the deity or really likes her for that matter. She probably did this to teach Morr a lesson- hence the bad humor.
"Though, now that you're here…" her voice trails off, looking around at all the open space in front of them. Despite the prairie covered in snow, it should be safe enough to run through without falling flat on her face.
"How about a rematch?" she asks, eyes glistening with that childlike playfulness again. Also, she could use a change of topic and something to keep her mind off her angst. That is, if Antiope accepted the challenge.
@Antiope figured I'd just get straight to it so you have a little more to work with xD hope that's okay
Antiope considers the wolf called Bram for a moment, a dark shadow against the snow. He is only the second companion she has come into close contact with, though throughout the court she’s seen other equines with them. He’s quite different from the other bonded she is familiar with, that being Fable.
It’s a curious thing, the way two creatures can be tied together in such a way. The magic here will never not be something for her to uncover.
The Regent can’t speak to Caligo’s sense of humor; to be honest, she still does not know as much about the goddess as perhaps she should. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” She’s heard that there is a temple in the mountains for the deities.
Perhaps, Antiope will consider visiting it soon. Her relationship with gods is not a good one, and she’s certain that this world’s gods would not be pleased to know about her past actions upon the ones she has known
Morrighan doesn’t seem interested to speak about whatever has brought her out here in the first place, or whatever she had been discussing with her bonded. The other woman moves on to a new topic rather quickly, one which surprises Antiope. Her sapphire eyes widen slightly at the mention of a rematch, one brow raising in a questioning look, “Are you certain?”
There is a mischievousness in the Warden’s eyes, a look which suggests to Antiope that she rather enjoyed the race, even though she lost it in the end. Still, the tigress woman is surprised that the other mare would want to race her a second time, knowing about Antiope’s magic and having seen it in in use. “You really want to try that again?”
we're climbing until we transcend
higher, higher to where the skies end
In a way, it's funny how her faith has shifted from hardly believing in anything to feeling even the smallest connection to a deity. She still swears she's seen Caligo the past couple times she's encountered great magic, which makes Morrighan so sure this is all the deity's doing. At first it had been the statue in the markets with the colt almost freezing to death, then it was on the mountain with the strange shadow. Of course, it could all be her imagination, but she can't shake the feeling of eyes burning into her. Like an all-knowing, stern look a mother gives to her child.
Some would tell her she should take it all as a blessing, but most days, it feels like a burden. Or at least, Bram certainly does. Until he proves himself to be a good companion, she still wishes he would leave her alone most of the time. He tends to be a reminder why her kind hated wolves in the first place back in her homeland.
At the mention of a race, Antiope is surprised. Morrighan had lost last time, so it's no wonder she's in shock. Still, the Warden feels more confident this time that she might have a chance. Now that she knows what to expect from the woman's magic, she'd just have to work harder to win. It'd be good for her, as any sort of physical challenge is, and would still be a good distraction from everything else.
"Yeah, why not? I think I could take you this time," she says, feeling cocky. "Or are you too tired from all the work of being a Regent now?" The woman's not entirely sure what all goes into being the second-in-command, but it seemed like it might be a lot to handle.
It starts to snow- the kind that appears soft and fluffy. Not that the lands needed any more of it, but such is the way of the winter season. The snowflakes come down in big clumps and give the prairie an almost dream-like look. She shakes herself when too many accumulate on top of her while she waits for Antiope to accept her challenge. Surely the other woman couldn't be scared, so what might hold her back?
There should be a hundred reasons that Antiope is tired. Because she doesn’t sleep, because she wanders the streets all hours, day and night—prowling just like the lion in her bones. Because everything inside her is more and other and too much for this mortal skin. Least of all of those reasons is her position, which gives her purpose and reason after the fallout of her previous life.
Of all the essences inside her, in all of the colors of the gods they had come from: red, green, purple, black, it is the green one that gives her life and vitality. But even when she gets tired, the Regent just draws on her magic. Antiope has never gotten over the sleeplessness of war.
“Do not write me off so easily, Warden,” she says with a flash of sharp sapphire eyes, rising to the top of the slope and coming to a stop at Morrighan’s side. She looks out over the prairie, as fat, fluffy flakes begin to fall from the sky above. The coating is not thick and the ground hard and frozen, leaving less to hazard during a race. “Since this is your rematch, you can decide where we race to.”
Sideralis has little in the way of landmarks, except a few scattered and bare trees like shadows against the snow, but the views go for miles. Flakes begin to accumulate upon her back, white crystals clinging to her hair that is tied high and tight.
She has been caught in worse storms, and is scarcely phased by the snow as it floats lazily down to the ground. Very little has ever phased her, and still doesn't. “But I'd try not to get your hopes up, if I were you,” Antiope remarks, like a dare, or a promise, glancing sidelong at the woman next to her.
we're climbing until we transcend
higher, higher to where the skies end
A smirk plays across her lips as Antiope comes up to stand by her side. Morrighan wouldn't dream of it, but it's fun to take a jab at the woman anyway. She's being given the choice of where they race to and so the Warden looks out at their options. There aren't many in such a wide open field, now that she realizes it.
"Perhaps I can help," a voice comes through her mind and Morrighan turns to see Bram get up and run down the hill. He eventually stops and casually sits down, looking back out at the pair. He's stopped quite a ways away, possibly a little further than what they had run last time.
"Well, I guess he chose for us," she says, shaking off some larger flakes from her face. The sudden snowfall might make this more interesting, but the ground still seems like it'll be okay. They may want to make it quick just in case. "To Bram and back here," she instructs. She then uses her hoof to melt away enough of the snow so she can leave a char mark in the dried, frozen grass underneath. This way, they can have a something to come back to.
Antiope hits her back with a remark and Morr snorts at her in reply. "I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?" She is back to being a young filly with the others in her training group. Before she had magic, they worked on physical strength. They had many races, both for fun and for the sake of their warrior training. She always had a surge of adrenaline before each one and this reminds her of those times. When things were a little less serious and she could just enjoy herself. She's always been the reserved type (the many years she's been alive have hardened her), but she's thankful that there is now someone in her life she can have fun with. It's unclear to her if Antiope might feel the same way.
But now isn't time for sentiment, now is the time for their competition. A chance to redeem herself (hopefully, if things can work out in her favor).
"On the count of three?" Morrighan asks the mare, her two-colored eyes gleaming and the fire at her hooves already beginning to spark. Her heart is racing as she waits for the cue.
Antiope watches as Morrighan’s bonded stands and turns away from them, moving down the hill and into the distance. At the same time the Warden speaks, explaining that they were to race to the wolf and back to their starting point. Her sapphire eyes are gemstone bright and sharp as the Regent watches the other woman carve a line of burnt grass into the snowy landscape.
The striped mare can’t relate to the almost child-like enjoyment in Morrighan’s eyes. She can’t even really place it, as something other than a freeing sort of joy. Antiope doesn’t know what it’s like to have a childhood, to be young and naive and full of wonder. Her birth was unconventional in so many ways, but especially in that she woke the exact same age that she remains now; immortal and mature. She doesn’t have parents, nor any sort of ancestors or bloodline. There are no memories in her past of being a filly and playing games as she sees other foals do around the court. Although Antiope has never really thought about it—it’s just the way things are—she can understand the idea of the things she has missed out on because of it.
Morrighan’s voice pulls her back to the task at hand, and she presses closer to the charred line on the ground. Her eyes narrow slightly, focusing on the distant shape of the Warden’s bonded, like a shadow against the snow. “One…” she says, feeling the chill of fat and lazy flakes of snow falling upon her back like a kiss of cold.
“Two,” and she is already waking the lioness inside her, letting her stretch her limbs and prowl through her veins. Her magic starts to draw upon the energy in the clouds, her eyes slowly flooding with gold. It begins to fill her like a rush of adrenaline, inundating every cell.
Then the snow has all but stopped. Nothing is left but the ocassional flake left drifting down as if not quite sure whether it is meant to fall or not. Antiope’s eyes are ichor-bright, like god blood. There is something like knowing turning up the coner of the lips as she finally releases them with a simple, “Three!” and she is moving, running, flying. She stretches her neck out and pushes her legs faster, and faster, and eats up the energy her magic has stored. Her hooves striking a war beat against the frozen ground as they pound right through the snow cover.
There is something exhilarating about being free to run, about using her magic in such a mundane, simple, harmless way. Her magic may have been given to her so that he could dominate a battlefield with ease, but Antiope wants to find new ways to use it. And if a race against Morrighan is one of those ways, it’s certainly something she can get used to.
She meets the place where Bram is sitting and digs her hooves in to the frozen earth under the snow, bunching her haunches to swing herself around. It’s impossible to say how long they’ve been running for, and Antiope barely glances aside herself to see where Morrighan is: whether she is beside her, or behind her.
As she reaches the halfway mark of their way back, she begins to loosen her grip on her magic, letting it drain slowly out of her body. Her eyes bleed from gold to keenest blue, and by the time she reaches their finishing line it’s impossible to tell that she had been using it all.
"Speaking."
@Morrighan tried to leave it pretty open ended for you
we're climbing until we transcend
higher, higher to where the skies end
One…
As Antiope begins the countdown, Morrighan readies herself. She puts one leg in front of the other and leans forward, her eyes focused on the halfway mark that is Bram. He stares back, slightly regretting his decision to be a marker.
Two…
The snow fall stops. She can feel the heat emanating more strongly from her hooves. It starts as sparks until it flickers into small flames that she's satisfied with. Every day she feels herself getting closer to the power she once held with fire.
Three!
The Warden launches forward, her focus only on the race and the beating of her hooves against the ground. Embers trail behind her as she leaves burned prints in her wake. She is a force to be reckoned with as she gets closer and closer to her wolf. Determination shines in her eyes and the fires continue to burn at her feet. She is back to reliving her older memories and the carefree feeling it brings.
But with this, she is no longer a young foal and is much more competitive than before. As the pair approach, Bram jumps out of the way so they can make the turn without pelting him with snow. Unfortunately for him, he didn't move quite fast enough and Morrighan manages to kick some slush at him before she leaves. The mare laughs and it's a throaty kind of sound, almost like her voice hasn't been used in a while. Really, it's that she hasn't truly laughed in a long time.
Here it is, the final stretch, and she quickly glances at Antiope for the first time since the race began. The mare is slowing and, somehow, Morr is beginning to get ahead of her. With a smirk, she lengthens her stride and puts as much energy into her gallop as she can. She snuffs her flames out in order to focus everything on her speed. This is it.
Her hooves cross the finish line first, only within a few seconds before Antiope. Still, it's enough to grant her first place and a redemption. Her heart is racing and she's out of breath, but she still manages to make a victory howl. Bram, still a bit covered in snow, makes his way back. Despite being annoyed at Morr for getting him, he's completely amused by the women's game.
"Ha! I knew it. I knew I'd be stronger this time," she says, flaunting her victory. It doesn't occur to her at all that Antiope may have just let her win, she's too focused on the sole fact of being the winner.
"Maybe you are tired, or getting too old," she jokes and playfully nudges the woman's shoulder. She's no longer thinking of all that had troubled her before either, just as she had wanted.
@Antiope I think this is what we had talked about happening? LMAO I can edit it otherwise
Antiope could have easily held her magic strong for the entire length of the race, for all the short minutes it would have taken them to reach Bram and get back to the hilltop. Once, Antiope had used her magic through entire battles: long, hard-fought. She tries not to think about the things her magic had once been capable of, of the things she had done with it. How different it is, to use it only to race.
There is a part of her, perhaps the part that is still pacing inside her bones, that feels like this is purposeless. Her magic… her magic can do so many wonderful, powerful, terrifying things.
This is why she does not do them.
The Regent turns to Morrighan as she howls her victory, neither out of breath nor with tired muscles. Other than the stands of her hair which have come loose from her buns, falling around her face and against her neck, there is hardly any indication at all that she had been running. The disturbed covering of snow on the ground, however, gives a much different picture of what had transpired out here.
“Perhaps we should work on your sportsmanship rather than your endurance,” Antiope remarks as the Warden nudges her shoulder. Morrighan’s bragging brings to mind the competitions she has seen foals carrying on within the court walls, though she doesn’t voice the comparison out loud.
“But,” she says with sharp eyes, “It is impossible for me to be getting too old.” She does not age, and never will. Antiope is the same age now as she was when the gods first made her. The same age as she was a year ago when she first arrived in Novus.
And regardless of the other woman’s boasting and jesting, it is clear to see that whatever might have been bothering her earlier when Antiope had first come upon Morrighan and her bonded is no longer on her mind. She may have sacrificed an easy win (surely, the Warden must have some suspicion? Or perhaps her ego is simply that great) but if her companion’s attitude is improved then it was surely worth it.
credits
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