Sometimes you accidentally make yourself so sad by exalting dragons you loved for lair space that you quit a game for, uuuuuh, seven years. And then when you come back you're still sad enough about it not to want to focus too closely on that clan lore.
So you start a hibernal den for your older dragons, that you definitely don't want to exalt but feel sad when you play with anymore, and then you start a branch clan to adopt new dragons into. >>
---
In the end, it's over far more swiftly than Shantipur thinks her mother ever imagined. The old core of Calabar's inner circle is strong; they descend upon what her mother had thought would be the final battle and tear the fighters apart. Her mother is bleeding in a dozen places, her grin turning to twisted fury at her foiled plans. Lampang's mother, her eternal enemy, submits with far more grace. A half-dozen ridgebacks are pinning their mates, her father, Lampang's father, in place.
Calabar, experienced clan-head that she is, is wise enough not to kill her mother. There will be no emperors born on this bloodied ground.
"We have been digging a den beneath the Beacon for hibernation, for those of us who are not ready to pass to the Lightweaver, but know that it is time for the next generation to take their rightful place," Calabar declares, her voice rolling over the clearing. "All these four will retire there, with the rest of us who are ready to settle and sleep until we are awoken in the Lightweaver's service."
Shantipur looks to Lampang, who is watching in distress, tail swishing behind him, raising one foot and then another and clawing at the ground as he sets them down. Several remaining ridgebacks are wtching him warily. Several remaining guardians are watching her. Pruzhany is hovering close to both of them, and only a few would know that it's a protective hover, not a watchful one. Perhaps if she wasn't, they'd already be pinned beneath unyielding weight and claws as well.
"My mother started it," Shantipur shouts. "My father will follow her into any evil, so I understand his sentence. But why must Lampang's parents be condemned, too?"
"It is not a sentence," says Calabar, who, Shantipur knows, has always secretly been fond of her mother, for all her wicked ways. Calabar has a respect for dragons of the Wyrmwound that Shantipur herself, seeing her mother's cruelty, struggles to understand. "It is an honor to rest in anticipation of the Lightweaver's call. I go myself; it is not a punishment."
"No," Lampang's mother says wearily. "It is not a punishment. It is the best ending. I have trained others to tend to the gardens and the wilds alike. We will go."
Lampang's father shifts his weight deliberately, his own tail twitching only once. Once all eyes are upon him, he nods.
"Maybe," Mbaiki says, in the echoing, hollow voice she's borne since the Lightweaver sent her back from exaltation to serve the clan anew, "these two should rest beneath the ground as well."
Cartagena shoulders her way to the front, absurdly small and fluffy amidst all the larger, sharp-scaled dragons who had joined the fray. She raises her sweet voice high. "No. If they would consider it a punishment, then it would be cruel. I will keep them under my wing. Mother, give us a chance to heal the hurts that their parents' battle has left upon them."
"Very well," Calabar says. "You will be clan-head in my absence, and so that decision is yours."
It should feel like mercy. Shantipur isn't sure why this kindness fills her with such rage. An impulse of her mother's, she decides, and tucks it firmly away. She looks to Lampang, less restless now, and lets the fond affection that she always feels at the sight of him fill her instead.
---
Lampang knows that he should be grateful for Cartagena's kindness to him and Shantipur. She accepts without question that they wish to lair together, instead of apart, and gives them a new place far from where their parents dwelled. When others scoff, or at least express doubt, that they can truly coexist so comfortably, the new clan-head defends them.
But he's restless still. Mbaiki's spirit roams as she sleeps, still following Calabar's will, and he wakes often to a light shining in their cave, the glowing ghost of her staring down in silent judgement. Some of their clanmates follow Cartagena's lead, but more watch them with suspicion. To them, Shantipur is a child of disaster, heir to Ranaghat's cruel manipulations and all the pain she has caused, and Lampang is the traitor by her side.
Yirol delights at their pairing, and that, he thinks, is the most telling of all.
Of course they all expect him to fall in line with Shantipur. Kandukur had behind Ranaghat; his own father seemed, to most eyes, to do the same, though he knows better. And he's heard the tales of his mother's last mate. He just wishes that more than a handful could trust her repudiation of her parents and take her as her own dragon. He wishes that she hadn't had to repudiate her parents at all.
"They should treat you better," he tells her, pacing back and forth in her lair. "What have you done to them?"
"Existed in my mother's image." Shantipur shrugs. She's always taken this matter better than he has.
Lampang growls low in his throat. "I don't like it. I would challenge them, if you would let me, but- it wouldn't help, would it?"
"No. It wouldn't help."
He growls again and throws himself down, digging his claws into the soft layer of rugs and furs that Shantipur had lined the floor of their den with after he'd been scolded for tearing up the ancient bricks beneath. "I hate this."
"It sucks," a cheerful, crowing voice agrees, a shadow briefly covering them both as a form larger than either of them, wings spread wide, lands at the doorway and blocks out the sun. Then Pruzhany folds her wings and steps inside. "Do you know how many people I've had to promise to sit on you if you finally go mad? Cartagena says to give everyone time, but I don't know if we'll still be around by the time some of those grudges fade."
"My mother earned it. But I have to admit, I don't like paying for it."
"I wish we could just leave," Lampang says, suddenly, impulsively, but the moment he says it he's filled with eagerness for the notion. "Why should we stay and keep trying to prove ourselves? Why can't we just go where no one knows our parents?"
"Calabar won't trust that we aren't leaving to go carry out mother's plans of making another glorious emperor."
"And Mbaiki will drag you back and force you into the hibernal den, willing or no," Pruzhany agrees, still strangely cheerful. She tilts her head to one side. "Which is why it has to be a secret!"
---
"Lieksa," Pruzhany says, sidling up to the clan trader. "You have connections, don't you?"
"No," Lieksa says, eyeing her judgmentally.
---
"Algiers! Tunis! Sallee!" Pruzhany calls, sidling up to the clan's much less official traders. "You have connections, don't you?"
Tunis grins, and both fae, clinging to his wings, put their fins forward. "What are you looking to find?"
"A ticket out of here, for three."
"We can do that," Algiers says instantly, and Sallee adds, "Where for?"
"Oh, anywhere that isn't here. Preferably without Mbaiki picking up any clues."
Tunis grins wider. "We do love a challenge, don't we, ladies?"
---
("You could come," Shantipur says to Damask and Oryol. "I know it isn't easy for you, either."
"I won't run," Damask tells her, with all the hard conviction that both her parents are known for, and that's that.
She doesn't ask where they're going. She doesn't need to know. She's never going to go herself.)
---
"But where did they go?" Mbaiki demands, much later, staring down both of Calabar's children.
"I don't know," Cartagena says, her voice soft. "Tell Mother I'm sorry. I had hoped…."
"Hoping doesn't fix anything," Damask says, her voice harsh, and turns and walks away.
Cartagena looks sadly after her, and Mbaiki shakes her head. She'd told Calabar that her daughter was too soft. It's why her spirit is still here, still on guard, even though her true charge is hidden and hibernating now with her body and her mate. She'll find those children and either drag them back, or, if it's necessary, destroy any emperor they've made of themselves where it stands.
Запрашаем! 17/07, на дзень вызвалення Пружанаў ад нямецка-фашысцкіх захопнікаў на штогадовую акцыю-выставу "Фотасушка"*. Пачатак у 10.00 Акрамя магчымасці паўдзельнічаць (запрашаюцца УСЕ ЖАДАЮЧЫЯ), есць неверагодная магчымасць пабачыць выставу старых фотаапаратаў ("рэтара") з прыватных збораў! І ўсё толькі - 17 ліпеня! *«Фотасушка» - гэта выстава фотаздымкаў пад адкрытым небам, у якой прыняць удзел могуць усе жадаючыя: ад прафесійных фатографаў да пачаткоўцаў і аматараў, любога ўзросту і светапогляду. Галоўнае, што аб'ядноўвае ўсіх удзельнікаў - гэта любоў да фатаграфіі. Кожны прыходзіць на «Фотасушку» са сваімі ідэямі і поглядамі на гэты свет. На адваротным баку аўтар можа напісаць свае пажаданні, каардынаты ў якасці рэкламы або любы тэкст. #пружаны #фотасушка2020 #пружаныроднаямясціна #дзеньфатографа #pruzhany https://www.instagram.com/p/CCn6E6fJGRA/?igshid=1g1mm0tezyogy
У Міжнародны дзень помнікаў і гістарычных мясцінаў - фота палацыка падчас Другой сусветнай вайны. Спадзяемся, што больш ніколі яго не ўбачым такім стане! #WorldHeritageDay (падфарбавана ў colorize-it.com) #pruzhany #wwii #wwiihistory #палацык #пружаны #пружаныроднаямясціна https://www.instagram.com/p/B_H7t0wJKF2/?igshid=mym34k5axmuu
Палацык у лютым 2020. Фота: Сяргей Ляўчук https://vk.com/id171418465 #pruzhany #пружаны #палацык #СяргейЛяўчук #пружаныроднаямясціна #2020 https://www.instagram.com/p/B8ilrj2pLlV/?igshid=11l8cwfmd0crw
