Naturally, with a season change comes a new festival. Morrighan supposes she shouldn't be surprised given who they were and what they were known for. Although, the large number of crowds these events bring always overwhelms her. It's great for business, but the streets become narrower and louder. She gets more tense with every visitor, unsure of their true intentions.
For now as she walks the streets, it's all laughing and singing (terrible singing, at that). They have arranged quite a bit within the markets between all the festival games and the performance stage. For a moment, she's drawn to the stage where there will likely be dancers in case one of them might be Al'Zahra, but she shakes her head. She's Regent now and that means she needs to be focused on the task at hand and not on a pretty woman.
But she'd be lying if she said her heart didn't ache for her touch right now.
As she rounds the corner, there is someone that catches her attention after all. It's not Al'Zahra, but it is someone she's been hoping to see for quite some time. Someone who will likely not enjoy seeing her because she has a bone to pick with them.
"August," she hisses as fire erupts out of thin air between them. With her mind, she shapes it like a ball. The edges reach out like solar flares, wanting to so badly taste the man's flesh. The magic swirls and glows to match her fury.
He failed her.
"Ballsy of you to show your face around here," Morrighan growls, almost in sync with Bram's own snarls. The wolf stands by her side with hackles raised.
Would he remember the task she set for him? Or had he been the one she was looking for all along? He, a follower and mourner of Raum? Either way, he had better have a good reason for his disappearance. If he knew better, he would know not to bullshit her.
To be fair it just hurts in general - August has not yet recovered from having his ass handed to him in Solterra’s fighting pits. There is a long, scabbed-over cut along his cheek, a lurid bruise on his ribcage just visible beneath his summer coat, and a limp to his usually elegant gait. His injuries seem to be good camouflage - he has yet to be recognized in the drifting woodsmoke and growing darkness, though he thinks, wryly, that perhaps his old friends are simply avoiding him.
But oh, it isn’t just that kick on his ribs that has his heart aching to see the bustling night markets again, hung with flags of gold and rich blue. He had left Dencote months ago determined to write his own story, but only missed the pages he’d lived in its alleys and the foothills of its mountains. He’d missed the clamor of the streets, the raucous calling of the gulls, the specific scent of smoke and salt and jasmine. He is grateful to see it again - and yet August feels unraveled, dissembled pieces when he once was a man. The Scarab is not his home, and he is not its proprietor. Aghavni is not here. Minya is as broken as he is. And he had left everyone else behind.
Still, he walks down the street with a smile - at least until he hears his name. It is not spoken fondly.
He turns to find the Warden behind him, and even if he couldn’t tell her disposition from her tone or expression, it would take more of an idiot than him to miss it from the ball of fire burning between them (uncomfortably near) or the wolf snarling at her side.
It seemed a bit like overkill.
“Warden,” he says carefully, lifting his gaze from the fireball between them to her face, lit by flame. His mind races for a moment, reaching for an explanation for her anger, until he remembers the agreement he’d made - the same night he’d learned about Aghavni’s leaving, the same night he’d enlisted as a sailor, set to sail the next day. Shit.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and means it. “By all means, take a swing. Though maybe leave the wolf and the fire out of it.” He eyes the latter two warily, and wonders what punishment for his hubris he’ll receive this time.
@Morrighan
August - -
there's a lover in the story but the story's still the same
As Morrighan looks on more closely, she realizes he's not in the same shape as he used to be. He is battered and bruised with a long scabbed over wound on his cheek. He has a limp too and it makes her wonder just where exactly he had run off to. Had whoever he met with beat the shit out of him? At the least, maybe him being in such terrible shape will make it easier for Morr to get answers.
Her expression remains serious until he says "Warden". Clearly he has been gone for quite a while if he's still using her old title.
"Warden," she laughs. "I'm your Regent now, so I advise you not to try anything." It's likely Antiope would think differently if she were here for this interrogation, but that's exactly it, she's not here. And neither is Isra (although Morr feels more confident the former Queen would take her side on this one).
The man blubbers an apology, but she's not buying it yet. He offers for her to take a swing and it's tempting, but she waits for the right moment. Her anger is as heated as her fire, but she's been trying her best not to act too quickly. If anything, just to show Antiope that she can be a little more professional.
Just a little, though.
Bram does not falter by her side and neither does she or her fire. "Why should I forgive you?" she asks, her eyes narrowed. "You abandoned your home and the task I set for you. Now you've suddenly returned after nearly three seasons." At first, Morr thought maybe he had left to investigate the traitor, but as time went on, it became clear that he very well may have been the traitor all along. Either that, or just someone who's completely irresponsible. "And, quite frankly, you look like shit," she sneers.
"Explain yourself - now." The fire ball glows brighter and hungrier after her demand. Soon, she tells it. Very soon.
Her laughter catches him off-guard, and when she says Regent his silver eyes widen minutely in surprise. August has a couple thoughts then: that he has been gone for far too long and is shamefully out of the loop, and that this encounter really isn’t working out too well for him.
“Congratulations on your promotion,” he says, conjuring a brief and only lightly pained smile, “Regent.” His gaze strays back to the fire, which hasn’t wavered or shrunk, and which he can feel the heat of warming his chest and face. The wolf’s eyes are reflecting in it, hungry yellow moons. Morrighan’s face seems uncomfortably similar. August considers taking a step back, but he still hasn’t moved when she continues pressing him. He doesn’t blame her, but his exhaustion seems to have doubled.
“I didn’t ask you to forgive me,” he points out. “And I would hardly call limping back home after nearly a year, as you pointed out, sudden.” At her last comment, he only offers her a little smile that seems to say, yes, thank you, I feel like it too.
Explain yourself, she says, and for a moment August considers lying - saying that he’d gone to Solterra to spy, to make sure the last embers of Raum’s rule were burned out, and to get a sense of the new regime. But he doesn’t have the energy, or see the benefit, or find the potential consequences much worth the risk.
Besides, he doesn’t deal in secrets or lies anymore.
“I’m afraid it isn’t very interesting,” he says instead, and shifts his gaze up to hers. “That night you caught me on the cusp of - ah, you could say a midlife crisis. The very next morning I took an assignment on a merchant ship and I haven’t been back since.” And what a hungover morning it had been, and a dreadful few months at sea, and a far more interesting but not much healthier time in Solterra. “Until tonight,” he adds, and sighs.
“I can tell you the long version, but I’d love a drink first.” August doesn’t yet dare to raise a brow at her - she doesn’t give off a very reassuring air of level-headedness - but he does tilt his head toward a nearby tent, behind which rest several kegs of wine and ale. He is hoping that she wouldn’t make a new bonfire out of Denoctian citizen, even a prodigal son of one - at least not in the middle of a crowded festival. Still, he can feel the sweat beginning to bead on his chest at the uncomfortable proximity of her fire. “First round’s on me. What do you say?”
@Morrighan
August - -
there's a lover in the story but the story's still the same
There is no thanks from Morrighan when August congratulates her for becoming Regent. She only continues to glare at him and feels the matched tension from Bram beside her. The two can be a deadly pair when provoked enough. She's getting so very close to crossing that line.
He briefly tells his story and he's right, it isn't interesting. It's not enough to explain why he would abandon his home and not take such an important job seriously. Perhaps she had been too naive to trust him with the task. In a way, it worked out in her favor since karma clearly kicked his ass.
Unfortunately for her, their altercation is starting to bring about spectators. She remembers the last time she was strongly discouraged from causing a scene again and so Morrighan snuffs out her fire. Holding it in the air for so long has made her feel a bit tired anyways, so it would be best for her to not waste her energy.
August offers to tell the rest of his story over drinks and she looks at him dumbfounded. Here she is threatening him and he wants to buy her a drink? He must have been hit over the head a few too many times. All things considered, the Regent has no choice but to agree and stop giving the group something to look at.
"Fine," she grumbles and gestures for Bram to back off. He listens, but not without showing his disappointment.
Without waiting for August, Morrighan makes her way towards the bar. The summer heat has made her more parched than she realized, so it now feels relieving to be taking a drink break. When she arrives and swings the door open, she finds the bar mostly empty and her favorite seat vacant as well. The woman sits and waits for the man to finally make his way in. Bram goes to lay down in the corner where the stone floor feels cooler.
Once he's finally hobbled over, she asks, "Why did you come back then?" Her tone is like ice, but one could tell she's backed off a little bit. Only slightly, of course. She is still skeptical.
It’s a relief to see the fireball vanish; the cool night air on his face where all the heat had been moments before feels as sweet as a kiss. August hadn’t really thought she’d do anything, especially since someone trusted her enough to name her Regent, but he also didn’t know her well enough to gamble on it.
He relaxes a little more when she agrees to a drink - thank Caligo - and studiously ignores the wolf’s clear displeasure that he won’t get to use those shiny white canines. August almost makes a quip about how he’s glad she agreed, as she could stand to loosen up a little, but he thinks better of it. He’s got enough bruises to contend with as is.
She makes no effort to wait for him or his limp, and his gaze watches the pair with bemusement as he follows them into the bar. It’s quiet in here, compared to the raucous mood outside, and cool away from the heat of the summer night and the bonfires; August motions for the bartender to bring him a pint and whatever Morrighan wants, and only turns to face her again at her question.
“Because it’s home,” he says simply. “I missed it. And clearly things weren’t going so well for me in the wider world.” August has no illusions that she cares about that bit (she is probably, in fact, pleased), but that only makes telling her more agreeable. By this time their drinks have arrived, and the palomino takes a deep draught of his ale, setting down the mug with a satisfied thunk.“Seems like things here are going well,” he says, glancing at her placidly, his silver eyes unreadable. Hopefully it’s a safe topic.
@Morrighan
August - -
there's a lover in the story but the story's still the same
As August answers her question, the Regent still isn't entirely convinced. For him to call this place home and to miss it means it does still hold a place in his heart. However, the other assignment promised him something more than what Morrighan's offered him. Was it a better life? More money? Either way, it clearly hadn't worked out. Maybe now he's learned his lesson.
Morrighan welcomes the drink the bartender brings out and takes a generous sip. What she won't tell August is that she has been feeling more nauseous lately and, unfortunately, alcohol didn't do much to help. However, this is not a time for her to show any kind of vulnerabilities, so she does everything she can to ignore it.
"Yes," she answers simply. "Antiope is Sovereign now. Isra took a ship somewhere else." Her tone turns bitter as it always does when she thinks back on the former Sovereign's leave. Apparently, there's a theme here of Denoctians taking off on ships for something better. Hopefully if Isra did return, she wouldn't come back in similar shape to August.
And of course, because Morrighan doesn't want to forget the topic, she then looks at him with narrowed eyes. "I suppose it's safe to assume then you did no tracking down of who put up that Raum memorial?" It's something the Regent has thought back to often, although she's still convinced that Moira had something to do with it. She had brought it up to Isra and even Antiope, but there hadn't been enough evidence to blame the woman. Some day, maybe, she'd find a way to get back at her for all the snide comments she's made and just overall bitchiness. She thought being Regent would give her an advantage, but she hasn't had any luck.
Her expression remains clearly dubious, but August isn’t too bothered; it seems like cynicism is her baseline state of being. But she drinks happily enough, and that’s something.
August has an ear turned toward her, listening, but his eyes scan the crowd streaming past the door of the bar, and those inside. He doesn’t realize it, but he’s looking for familiar faces. He doesn’t see any, which keeps him from making the decision to turn away from them before they recognize him in turn.
It’s an inevitability that he’ll meet someone he knows like this, bruise-cheeked and scabby, but he isn’t quite ready to tell the story of why. But when she mentions the queens he turns back to Morrighan. He’s heard as much, while in Solterra; but it still surprises him, that Isra would have left so soon. For war, they’d said, in her home country - he wonders why Morrighan is so vague, and whether it’s intentional. Something about her tone suggests it is.
“May her winds be favorable,” he says, and tips his glass in a faint toast before drinking again. He’s glad he did when the Regent catches his eye, and it seems to him there are still sparks burning in her own. “No,” he says, though in truth there were many patrons of the Scarab that hadn’t been opposed to Raum - even through their horror at the end. But delving back into those questions would require a lot of reckoning with his disappearance, and anyway it hardly seemed to matter, now.
“I didn’t hear so much as a whisper of his name while I was in Solterra, though. Their new king seems to be adequately keeping the peace.” August felt a grudging respect for Orestes, though he could do without the memory of his lion’s judgmental stare. Now he looks at Morr, pouring a little more concern into his voice. “Why, has there been any more trouble?”
@Morrighan
August - -
there's a lover in the story but the story's still the same
August speaks of safe winds and does a toast for Isra, but Morrighan just scowls at her drink before taking another long sip. There's no doubt that she wants her to be safe and to come back in one piece, but she will still hold on to that bitterness. She's too stubborn and prideful not to.
The Regent isn't sure what she was expecting to hear from the man when she asked about Raum again. The fact he has no news is not entirely surprising given how irresponsible he's proven himself to be. Although, if he speaks the truth of Raum's name never being mentioned back in Solterra, that could be surprising. Maybe the Court has learned their lesson and have washed away every trace of him. One could hope, anyway.
She's not sure how she should feel about their new King. She's heard some things about him in passing and he at least hasn't done anything to harm Denocte yet. What August says then is true, he's so far done well at keeping the peace. Morr knows all too well though that they can't make themselves vulnerable. Peace is comforting, but it doesn't last forever.
Plus, the man still hasn't explained the full story of why he came back all battered and bruised. Did he get in the middle of something he shouldn't have and now their peace will be disrupted because of it? She will forever be skeptical, but will log all of this in her brain for later in case she needs someone to blame.
"No," she replies, taking another sip of her drink. It doesn't seem to sit well when it goes down her throat. "Not yet anyway." She shoots him a side glance as if in warning to not bring whatever bad luck he had in Solterra back here.
Morrighan is about to take another sip in hopes of feeling buzzed soon, but hesitates as her stomach seems to have other plans. She can't seem to fight off the nausea that's been building since this morning. The last thing she wants to do is throw up in front of August and the rest of those gathered in this bar.
Taking a deep breath, she chugs the rest of her drink down and the glass lands with a loud clunk. "Thanks for the drink." The Regent avoids August's gaze as she stands up to leave because she's not quite sure how much time she has before puking. "Clean yourself up," she orders him. "And I suggest you avoid getting the shit beaten out of you from now on."
With that, the Regent heads out of the bar, pushing past a couple making googly eyes in the way of the door. It actually makes her more nauseous, but she's at least able to keep her composure until she's successfully left the building. She rushes around to an alleyway before anyone happens to notice her.
The Regent does not match his toast, and August hides his surprise. He’d never actually met the unicorn queen, but he’d thought her beloved (at least by the commoners in her own court; there had certainly been a few patrons of the Scarab who did not share the feelings of devotion). It has been a long while since the palomino has been in the business of secrets, and he wonders now how much he’s missed.
He nods when she says there hasn’t been more trouble; that, too, is a little surprising, considering Isra’s absence, but perhaps Raum’s ending was warning enough to those with ill intent. At her pointed glance August only smiles blithely, taking another sip of his beer.
He’s prepared to go more into his past year - it was the reason they’d come to the bar, after all - when she drains her glass and rises. His brows follow her up, and so does his gaze; at her order his mouth twists into a half grin. “Aye aye, Regent, he says, and watches thoughtfully as the woman and her wolf go, wondering what he’s missing and grateful, at least, to not have gotten singed.
@Morrighan
August - -
there's a lover in the story but the story's still the same
Naturally, with a season change comes a new festival. Morrighan supposes she shouldn't be surprised given who they were and what they were known for. Although, the large number of crowds these events bring always overwhelms her. It's great for business, but the streets become narrower and louder. She gets more tense with every visitor, unsure of their true intentions.