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+--- Thread: Qeya River mockingbird (/showthread.php?tid=64880)
mockingbird - Veksar - February 12, 2025
the qeya roared behind veksar while he coasted its edge. the sun hid behind a cover of gunsmoke silver and the trees swayed in the fierce breeze. the ice crunched loudly beneath his feet, and he struggled to break himself in and out every time he took a step forward.
there was one thing, or rather person, on his mind: @Blackfell.
things had been tense since his arrival in saatsine. everyone seemed to glower at him in a way that made his guard raise even higher than it had been in the first place. and while blackfell had not wanted him here, that was the way it was, and at the end of the day they were the only ones who truly understood one another's plights.
they knew by blood.
veksar's voice cut over the mountains in a call meant for his brother's ears alone.
there was one thing, or rather person, on his mind: @Blackfell.
things had been tense since his arrival in saatsine. everyone seemed to glower at him in a way that made his guard raise even higher than it had been in the first place. and while blackfell had not wanted him here, that was the way it was, and at the end of the day they were the only ones who truly understood one another's plights.
they knew by blood.
veksar's voice cut over the mountains in a call meant for his brother's ears alone.
RE: mockingbird - Blackfell - February 12, 2025
it is a call he would know in his sleep. the call of kin is not one he will ignore; be it wretched cousin or beloved brother.
he moves slowly down the icy hill, paws firing off muted thuds against the frost-hardened ground. the trees thin, the river comes into view, and there—veksar.
blackfell parts the treeline, breath fogging in the cold. he chuffs a greeting without warmth.
crimson eyes watching him with that constant detached glower. he speaks as he nears, drawing himself shoulder to flank with veksar, looking over shoulder at him.
you hate it here.he observes.
as much as i do.
RE: mockingbird - Veksar - February 12, 2025
veksar's gaze turned over his shoulder. blackfell approached and a small thread of his anxiety fell away — especially so as his brother spoke.
veksar nodded his head.
there wasn't much for him to like about saatsine. it was cutthroat and rigorous and frigidly cold in both demeanor and environment. it felt just like home in a way that made him want to peel his own skin back.
veksar nodded his head.
there wasn't much for him to like about saatsine. it was cutthroat and rigorous and frigidly cold in both demeanor and environment. it felt just like home in a way that made him want to peel his own skin back.
we need to get out of here, blackfell,his gaze was firm, unyielding.
and i want to take morwenna and gjalla with us.
RE: mockingbird - Blackfell - February 12, 2025
blackfell is silent. still as stone.
for a moment, it is as if though he considers it. like what veksar had said digs deep like a briar. but then his teeth bare—not at his brother, but at the thought itself. at the seed that has been planted.
in a moment’s notice he has stepped away. he paces, restless. tail lashing against the cold air before he rounds back, fire burning in his crimson stare. holding veksar captive like a steel trap.
don’t be a fool, veksar. we cannot take morwenna from her husband. she is pregnant.spoken in their shared tongue so that no one may overhear.
a decision made, a decision firm. yet something in his voice falters, as if he does not fully believe it. as if some part of him recoils at what he says.
she has lost too much already. she has chosen this for herself. take her choice away and we are no better.
RE: mockingbird - Veksar - February 12, 2025
you think that imbecile is a suitable father to a woman like morwenna's children?veksar scoffed dryly, his mother tongue worn down with the accent of the commoner.
i don't see him as her husband. more like a pet.
it was bitter and cruel of veksar to say, yes, but in this moment he was fueled by the snaking void-black pit of anger deep in his stomach, and it showed in the way his pupils shrank and his lip curled to show his teeth. these were primitive folk — angry folk. and regardless of how blackfell felt, to veksar, she was of his land. his to protect.
he would never admit it, but there too were long buried emotions ebbed at and forced to the surface.
she has chosen wrong. she will learn it the easy way or the hard way. we must wake her up.
RE: mockingbird - Blackfell - February 12, 2025
blackfell bristles.
she has always chosen wrong.there is pause then, a flash of something deeper in red blazing eyes—something he dare not admit or speak of. a history between them veksar knows nothing of.
that is not for us to correct. if she wakes, she wakes. if she drowns, she drowns. but it is by her own hand.
he looks at veksar and sees the fire in him. it is a fire that veksar has always ran from, rejected; it is the fire that binds them as one. as brothers. as kin. as crownore. an ancestral thing that either consumed or propelled. now, veksar's consumes—it threatens the silence, the peace, that blackfell has so far maintained.
and if we did take her? hm?he asks.
what then, boy? what then when her husband sends his bloodhunters after us?it is these things that veksar's irrational mind does not allow him to see, to view clearly—these things that blackfell sees and considers.
you think i have not been haunted by this?he asks.
RE: mockingbird - Veksar - February 12, 2025
we're not going to steal her, dumbass,veksar retorted. his ears flattened to his head.
i'm not saying we make any big sudden moves. calm yourself. i'm saying we talk to her. convince her to leave him and come back to us, and then we go.
it sounded preposterous. traitorous. but veksar wasn't concerned about that.
he too saw the flame within blackfell. he wanted to pour gasoline all over it.
we have every right to be concerned. remember who she is to you, and to me. we're supposed to be loyal to each other.
RE: mockingbird - Blackfell - February 12, 2025
blackfell exhales sharply through his nose, breath visible in a violent, curling plume.
he searches veksar's face, ignores his insults—knows they are just young bluster—and takes a deep, calming breath. he listens. not for veksar—no, but for the foolish hope his brother still clung to.
his head tilts, red eyes burning through the cold.
i swore loyalty to her.he grits.
before you were even a thought in our mother's mind.he turns viciously.
and where was her loyalty? nowhere.
he had told her he would let it go. and yet it bubbled up again, again, again. it stung. it burned. it scathed. it was like salt in a wound that had never closed. it was a gut-wrenching betrayal.
he goes back to pacing, except he stops pacing rather quickly and settles for walking away. ears pulling upright aggressively at the sound of veksar's paws stomping furiously behind him.
she is not going to leave the father of her pups. no woman would. but you go right ahead, brother. test your luck.
he glares back.
i will not meddle in the marriage of another man.that is what he said. but it was so much more complicated than that, wasn't it?
RE: mockingbird - Veksar - February 12, 2025
blackfell was frustrated, and veksar was pushing it.
there was more out there than this. than greymarch, than saatsine. everything. there had to be. veksar felt it in every atom that made up his body, every last cell of sinew. perhaps that's what drove him.
more.
better.
he couldn't let it go.
come on, blackfell, do you not see it? if she chooses this life, fine. but that doesn't mean we have to.
there was more out there than this. than greymarch, than saatsine. everything. there had to be. veksar felt it in every atom that made up his body, every last cell of sinew. perhaps that's what drove him.
more.
better.
he couldn't let it go.
tell me that you see it. that you want more than this. you're the heir to our family's goddamn throne. you and me, brother, we could build a fucking empire.
RE: mockingbird - Blackfell - February 13, 2025
got carried away yolo
blackfell halts.
more.
better.
there is a visible twitch where his jaw tightens. crimson eyes dark beneath the weight of thought. his brother speaks—insolence, a fool!—and he rounds on the boy once more. this is the final time. the final time he will make any attempt at reason. but what he sees stills him, and steals breath from his lungs.
he sees in veksar's eyes something he has tried to ignore, to kill, to let rot beneath the ice. but it does not die. now blackfell speaks in a slow, enunciated manner; each syllable given it's own breath.
i am not heir.low, voice tempered with age and wisdom his brother does not yet possess.
i am no king.because to be a king was to reject all which their father had stood for.
and i will not be a king.and he is firm in this much. thoughts flicker to the conversation with gjalla—and he can almost taste the sweet kiss of her words as they were licked by the flames of ambition—and he knows that is not what he wants.
he knows that he loves gjalla, but to go back to the endless toil of thrones and courts—fuck that.
his breath comes heavier now, his shoulders squared, the full weight of him bearing down like a storm on the horizon.
but—
and he fixes his brother with a stern look, eyes widening and then narrowing as if to say listen, and listen well.
you must give up this boyish fascination you have of morwenna. that woman is gone. she is lanzadoii now.and at the very least, blackfell can respect that. it might sicken his breath to see her grovel at the behest of an arrogant man, but sun eater has done no wrong. committed no act that is punishable—and blackfell shall not act irrationally. he was the bigger man.
the better man.
i have not told you this—but there is more than just us. our cousin has settled in the glacier. jora is with him.there is a pause, a beat, where he searches veksar's eyes to see if the weight of that sinks in. then a breath as he says:
saatsine leave for their long march come spring time. when their cubs are weaned. they will go—his voice hushes, lowers, and he leans in closer towards veksar.
and we will not.
RE: mockingbird - Veksar - February 15, 2025
you don't have to be a king, blackfell, but you could be more than just a hunter.veksar held the weight of his brother's ire like he was cradling a newborn. he felt it too, that anger. that desire to be anything other than what was before you.
but what did he want to do with all of it?
veksar wanted better.
we carry the crownore name. we could build something new out of it. re-imagine our legacy. no one has to decide for us anymore. we left.
and then the bomb dropped. veksar fell quiet for a moment, searching blackfell's gaze. he adjusted his stance, straightened his shoulders.
we steal land from saatsine?the question came more as a gruff whisper.
are you outta your fuckin' mind? what if they come back?
RE: mockingbird - Blackfell - February 15, 2025
blackfell cuts cool, crimson gaze to his brother. the scruffy chin he wears lifting upwards, so that he can look down his nose at veksar. a scoff falling from lips.
when they come back,he says lowly, stalking forwards,
they will not be able to stand against us.a pointed glance.
right now, they were at the disadvantage. it was them who stood against sun eater's amassing clan. but when they left, there would be no one to guard the river. no one to freshen scent markers. it would be desolate; fit for claiming.
we will garner numbers. we will have allies in our cousin. already his claim broadens.blackfell's eyes now seem to glitter with ambition, and he clicks his teeth at veksar.
do you doubt me?
RE: mockingbird - Veksar - February 15, 2025
veksar considered it.
a small part of him felt guilty. morwenna's — star eater's — children did not deserve to go without a wintering home. nor did she, in his eyes, despite her betrayal. despite everything.
but.
it would be easy. for a moment thoughts flourished in veksar's mind of a kingdom here, what it could look like — birdsong and blooming trees and the roaring spitfire of the river, tempered by iridescent rocks. happy people. freedom.
independence.
still... something tugged at veksar, and it was written upon his face.
a small part of him felt guilty. morwenna's — star eater's — children did not deserve to go without a wintering home. nor did she, in his eyes, despite her betrayal. despite everything.
but.
it would be easy. for a moment thoughts flourished in veksar's mind of a kingdom here, what it could look like — birdsong and blooming trees and the roaring spitfire of the river, tempered by iridescent rocks. happy people. freedom.
independence.
no,veksar shook his head.
but i don't want war unnecessarily. it's a waste of men and resources when there are other places we can go. places in close proximity.
still... something tugged at veksar, and it was written upon his face.
i propose we explore. we see what else is nearby, and if we decide none are fit for us, then we take the river.
RE: mockingbird - Blackfell - February 16, 2025
blackfell listens. truly listens. veksar is young, reckless, but not without sense. he does not want war for war’s sake. neither does blackfell. it is a waste of blood, of effort, of time.
he has seen enough of it, enough to know that victory is not always worth the fucking cost.
but still, there is something satisfying about the idea of taking the river. of watching saatsine return to find their home no longer theirs. no, not theirs. his. but perhaps the most satisfying the idea was of morwenna bearing witness. his teeth grind at the imagery.
his lips press into a thin line, breath curling from his nose in a measured exhale. with a brief wavering of his eyes, he concedes:
we explore, then. but when spring comes, we make a choice.an inevitable choice. blackfell could only take so much of this shit. he was not a nomad. he thinks back to what he had said to gjalla; in the fit of rage, sure, but it holds up even today. and it is sweeter now that gjalla finally sees it for what it is: the truth.
they put their past lives behind—some more than others—but that did not mean to live in consequence. his sole focus no longer on ensuring gjalla would be at his side as his wife, he could return his attention to other things. and the presence of crownore blood in the proximity made everything all the more clearer. it was time for conquest.
before the conversation is ended, he turns one final time to fix cold eyes on veksar, and speaks with a low breath of air:
you carry our mother's wisdom.it was why when shit went down, veksar would be standing at his helm as his hand.
RE: mockingbird - Veksar - February 17, 2025
veksar's lips curled into a confident smirk.
it was a good plan, he thought. avoid theft unless it becomes necessary — avoid implication and war. but he'd be lying if he did not, somewhere deep inside of him, yearn for a vengeance that could only be settled by bringing star eater to her knees.
but for what? how had she hurt him? he hardly knew her — hardly even known morwenna before she'd disappeared from his life, thought to be lost to time. it was like a long buried, ugly wound, unfurling itself deep in veksar's gut.
abandonment.
betrayal.
his lip twitched. blackfell surely knew what was coming just by the look in his eyes. hurt, cemented behind many years of built up walls, finally cracking.
deal.
it was a good plan, he thought. avoid theft unless it becomes necessary — avoid implication and war. but he'd be lying if he did not, somewhere deep inside of him, yearn for a vengeance that could only be settled by bringing star eater to her knees.
but for what? how had she hurt him? he hardly knew her — hardly even known morwenna before she'd disappeared from his life, thought to be lost to time. it was like a long buried, ugly wound, unfurling itself deep in veksar's gut.
abandonment.
betrayal.
his lip twitched. blackfell surely knew what was coming just by the look in his eyes. hurt, cemented behind many years of built up walls, finally cracking.
what do you know about why morwenna left us, when i was a kid?
RE: mockingbird - Blackfell - February 17, 2025
veksar's question stills him.
blackfell's gaze sharpens, hard as flint. he studies his brother, sees the cracks forming in the armor of bravado—hurt, buried deep, now rising like bile.
he exhales, slow. lets his shoulders drop with it. the weight of old memories pressing heavy against his ribs. he steps closer, resting a heavy paw on veksar’s shoulder. steady. grounding.
morwenna was never ours.
he thinks of her as she once was—before the crown, before the burdens. the princess who defied lords and courtiers, who walked blackmarch’s halls like she belonged. she had been like family. perhaps more, at one time—to him.
but that was another life.
she became queen. her duty was to the realm.that truth is simple. but it isn’t, and never was.