jezi & impa
bay & black blanketed sisters of the peak
The bay mare did not understand why her Moonwalker apologized, but she could not afford to give him her full attention at the moment. Her sister was here, and her secret had been revealed through no fault of her own. Jezibelle had never expected Balthazar to come climbing up the mountain and had stupidly assumed they would only ever meet at its base. Warmth filled her, however, to think that he had begun to ascend the Peak to see her. No one had ever come to see her personally, and the fact that it was her Moon made it all the more special. And so as Impazienza stared at the one-eared stallion, Jezibelle lifted her eyes beneath lowered lashes to give the black mare a hard stare.
Light pressure on her blanketed hip accompanied by the warm breath of her Moonwalker gave Jezibelle courage, and the warmth that filled her ignited to a slow, dangerous heat. His words confirmed that yes, yes, he had come walking up this mountain filled with mares specifically to see her once more, and with that knowledge the quiet mare was able to lift her head and meet her sister’s one-eyed stare eye to eye.
Impa’s gaze shifted from the dappled silver-black to her sister’s face, and she was surprised at the change she saw there. Her little sister had forever been a taciturn, flighty mare, prone to flitting eye contact and a wandering state of mind. Jezibelle was not stupid, no, and Impa had never thought her slow— but it had always been clear to the Prime Minister that her sister was not wholly focused on the present or events at hand, and knew this was part of the reason that obtaining information from her was so difficult. Jezibelle’s timeline was not quite so linear as Impa’s, and she knew the bay mare had little interest in speaking of certain things when the past struck her as fully as the present seemed to.
It was still odd to see her sister hold her gaze, and Impa noted the confidence that infused her at the shorter stallion’s touch. Her own eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but because she was perplexed. She knew Jezibelle had been raped, and that she shunned her daughter, Imp, because of it. Impa had not thought to see her sister tolerate the touch of another male, especially when Jezibelle was so reluctant to endure even the simple act of grooming from her own sister from time to time. Impa snorted.
Her anger cooled, but it sat in her gut like a block of ice. “I see,” she said. There was nothing conciliatory about her tone. Jezibelle’s head dropped a notch, closer to the level she usually carried it at, but her eyes still met the black mare’s. Unnerved by her sister’s constant stare —it was honestly worse than when Jezibelle had avoided any and all eye contact— Impa returned her visual attention to the silver haired stallion. “Well. You have come to our Peak, and since my sister seems so taken with you, here you will stay.” She stepped forward, relentless, and Jezibelle’s ears flipped back as her head dropped to hang at the level of her shoulders but the bay mare did not give ground to her dark sister. “For I want nothing but the best for Jezi, and if that is what you are, then there is no sense in you leaving.”
Impa was surprised at her own sincerity. She loved Jezibelle, as only a sister could, and even though the bay mare infuriated her to wordlessness at some points she did want to see Jezibelle lift her head and meet her eyes from time to time, to stand like a horse with some iota of confidence in her own self-worth, and it seemed this silver black stallion was the key to that. With him close, on the Peak, Impa could also keep her own eye on him and try to figure out what it was, exactly, about this stallion that prompted such a startling change in Jezibelle. She stopped moving forward, close enough to reach out and touch her sister if she chose, and smiled at the pair of them.
To Jezibelle, it looked like a smirk, and she bristled beneath the black mare’s smug gaze. Balthazar was hers, her Moonwalker and her secret, and this was not what she wanted. She did not want to see him daily, did not want him to see her daily, because she was boring and ugly compared to the other mares on the Peak and he would obviously soon grow tired of her silent, sulking company just like her own sister did. None of the other mares had even made any attempts to speak to her, a truth that hadn’t bothered her until she realized the impact of her sister’s declaration. Balthazar would be here, here, day in and day out, and witness her everyday life.
And then he would leave, in search of something and someone more interesting.
Jezibelle lowered her eyes and strongly contemplated leaving the pair of them immediately. Now that Impa had seen him, she would do whatever she could to destroy what was between them, simply because her sister wasn’t at the middle of it. Impa was so self-involved, the bay mare could hardly stand it. She took a step away from them both and faltered, swinging her head back toward her Moonwalker in silent frustration to meet his eyes with unconcealed pain. “Stupid,” she said, and before he could apply that word to himself she closed her eyes and dropped her head almost to her knees as she continued, “I have been stupid.”
“Jezibelle, stop being so dramatic.” Impa’s ears tipped back in annoyance. She could not imagine why her sister was not grateful. “Come back to the herd now, both of you. You. Stallion. What is your name?”
The bay mare’s eyes flickered open. Her gaze moved from Balthazar’s knees to her sister’s muzzle and finally up to her Moonwalker’s face. She ached to reach out and touch her mouth to his skin, to trace the bridge of his nose and circle the base of his missing ear or breathe against his hard jaw and leave a line of warmth down the length of his neck. It was hard enough to touch him when they were alone, however, and under the ever-present eye of her sister and now the potential scrutiny of the rest of the Peak, Jezibelle doubted she would reach for him again. Especially when there were so many others who would undoubtedly claim his attention and time.
This, this was why she had hoped Impa would never learn of his existence, and least of all how important he was to her. The black mare’s “invitation” for the stallion to stay was clearly a punishment for Jezibelle. It would be a special sort of torment to have him around but no longer attentive to her, and the bay mare closed her eyes again. Maybe she would stay asleep the entire time he was here, and then never have to know how he interacted with others or how her sister would undoubtedly win his regard— how could Balthazar not turn his attention to Impa, so confident, and strong, and so like himself with one blind eye, and the Prime Minister of the Peak itself?
“You are not to blame,” she whispered. “I will never hold this against you.” And she tried to let go of him, then, before reality set in and he was torn away from her greedy heart.
How stupid of her to love.
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