((note: open for any, but please let Jessy reply first! <3))
It was strange, how the specters of the past could appear again so suddenly, touching lives long after one thought they had faded. Nearly a decade after Marceline's dramatic departure from their homeland, her actions - once thought long forgotten - had come back to haunt them yet again. Seeds of distrust that had been sown laid dormant no longer. The rotten fruit they bore had poisoned the king's family against his own, their long-held ire bubbling to the surface. It was this ire that had driven the king's distant cousin to rise up against Matthéo's impending succession, to snatch away what had once been rightfully his with greed and malice in his eyes. Even his precious family were not immune to the new king's misgivings.
Everything he had earned, everything he had worked for, it had all been summarily stripped from him, from his family. And all of it, all of it, was Marceline's fault. Never had Matthéo felt such anger towards someone, let alone his own kin, but if he didn't have his anger then what else did he have? A prince no longer, his father dead and his family outcast, anger was the only thing he owned now, and he intended to wield it like a blade with which he would cut Marceline down and force her to face the long-avoided consequences of her actions.
But first he had to find her.
It was this rage that drove him forward, towards the place he suspected she had taken refuge. It was this rage that pushed him through the exhaustion that he could feel seeping into each muscle and bone and sinew of his body, driving him towards the dark smudge of the islands on the horizon with his baby sister in tow.
At long last, after weeks of travel, Matthéo hauled himself ashore on the western edge of the Falls, his mane a shadowy spiderweb plastered against the muscular curve of his neck. He could hardly believe he was back here, on this little backwater string of islands, so far from the place he called home. A swell of bitterness rose like bile in his chest as his glacial gaze swept over the verdant forest that rose up before them. If it weren't for his traitorous sister, he never would have had to step hoof here in the first place. But he knew, all too well, that he stood little chance of returning and successfully reclaiming his rightful place without her, and so he gritted his teeth against the anger that threatened to burn him from within and turned his attention towards Marjolaine.
Without hesitation he offered Lainey his assistance, presenting his body as a wall against which she could lean if she needed to. She had always been a dainty, delicate thing, ill-equipped for such strenuous activities. No doubt the swim had likely taken its toll on her, and so he freely offered himself as a bulwark against her own exhaustion. "Lainey," he murmured as they stepped from the briny sea, "are you well? We've arrived, but let us rest before continuing." It was a concession Matthéo was hesitant to make, but he was keenly aware that pushing his sister any further would not do either of them any favors. And so he motioned towards a mighty oak that stood like a guardian above the others that surround it where they might take refuge from the sweltering autumn sun. "There," he said, turning back to Marjolaine, "We can eat and sleep and, with luck, go undisturbed. Come along, sister." |