runnin' away to the riptide; kreios - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Field (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=2) +---- Thread: runnin' away to the riptide; kreios (/showthread.php?tid=1666) |
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runnin' away to the riptide; kreios - Sloene - 06-05-2015 @[kreios] @[Kahzie] lady, runnin' away to the riptide
taken away to the dark side
She is nobody. Once, she was an orphan. A tiny thing, alone, her mother dead beside her in a pool of blood. And then she was one of many – the mouse-gray girl in the swirling galaxy that was Nera’s foal herd. But they couldn’t stay there forever, because they grew up. And Nera wanted to place them in Kingdoms and places of power, but none of the Kingdom representatives who’d spoken had captured the pony-girl’s interest. They were impassioned about their homes, that much she’d noticed, but there was something they were missing. How odd, to be defined as a person by where you lived. So here she is, picking her way across the Field, alone again. Nobody, because she doesn’t know how she wishes to be defined. A murderer? There was no denying the blood, her mother’s still body beside her in the den (her fault, her fault, her fault)…but she has not killed since then. It does not lurk underneath her skin, the urge to kill, though she has recognized that drive in strangers she’s met since leaving Nera. A child? No, no longer. She has not grown tall but she has grown an adult’s body, and adult’s mind. A mare, then, a woman? Yes, but to what end? Sloene stops, looking down at her own reflection in the clear water of the stream. Ice melt has gorged the trickle of water to several meters across, but shallow and reflective. She is white-gray now, the frosted ends of her winter coat obvious. But where she’s started to shed, a darker color shows: like many of the more primitive creatures, she will be a much darker, sleeker creature come summer. But not beautiful – not like the swirling colors that were her Brothers and Sisters in Nera’s herd. Just gray and white and black, and nearly invisible in the murky twilight. Were it not for the bright full moon overhead, even her reflection would be invisible. Maybe that is what she is – the invisible girl. SLOENE
I've got a lump in my throat
cause you're gonna sing the words wrong RE: runnin' away to the riptide; kreios - Kreios - 06-06-2015
RE: runnin' away to the riptide; kreios - Sloene - 06-09-2015 lady, runnin' away to the riptide
taken away to the dark side
Even moving slowly, his sheer mass makes his footsteps audible. The girl’s head swings up from the water, ears swiveling forward, raising her eyes so that she can find his face. For a moment she simply blinks, taken completely by surprise. She’s used to being little, standing several inches below most strangers she meets, but this stallion is nearly a foot taller than she is at the withers, and large in mass as well. Her silver eyes widen at bit as she takes in the spiraling horns protruding from the man’s skull, but there is a smile on his face and a friendly tone in his voice that puts her at ease anyway. She steps away from the water, towards him, not closing the distance entirely but the quiet of night seems to call for hushed voices, and she wants to be close enough to facilitate that. He offers a name, a home she doesn’t recognize – but he smells of heat and sand and rocks. “I’m Sloene,” she responds, lips curling into a quiet smile. He is as bright in the moonlight as she is not bright – white and red and large. “I’m of…well, nowhere, but I guess you know that since I’m here in the Field.” Orange Country – she is enough of a Beqanna child that she knows it’s not a Kingdom. A herd, then. She turns that idea around in her head, knowing that it won’t be the same as where she grew up. Nera and Branka had been two mares, raising a flock of children – no stallion involved. A traditional herd was a stallion instead, with a flock of mares. Could that define her, she wonders – a small sisterhood and a stallion to protect them? She supposes she won’t know unless she tries it, since she knows nothing about herds. She knows little about herself, even; she doesn’t know if her mother and father served a Kingdom or lived in a herd. Some days, she can’t even remember their names. “Your herd – is it large?” She was one of a mess of children once, and a part of her wants to know something smaller. SLOENE
I've got a lump in my throat
cause you're gonna sing the words wrong RE: runnin' away to the riptide; kreios - Kreios - 06-10-2015
RE: runnin' away to the riptide; kreios - Sloene - 06-14-2015 lady, runnin' away to the riptide
taken away to the dark side
She waits patiently to catch his words, feeling slightly better about her own uncertainty when he hesitates before speaking. Perhaps not every other thing in Beqanna has a purpose – or, if they do know their purpose, at least they aren’t completely sure of all of their actions all of the time. The stallion gives a hesitant number and she quirks a smile again, shaking her own head. “No,” comes the murmur of a reply. “That’s not too large at all.” Sloene can’t even count the number of pseudo-sibling she grew up with; she’s not even sure she met them all, though certainly Nera had known each of them by name. He offers to show it to her, this Orange County, and the little dun mare wonders if she’s simply imaging the enthusiasm (hope, even?) in his voice. If she’s projecting her own bubbling, hopeful feeling about having a home and a family into his quiet words. She’d like to think not – it is nice to think he’d be happy to have her join them there, or as happy as one can be about taking a stranger home. “I’d love to see it.” SLOENE
I've got a lump in my throat
cause you're gonna sing the words wrong |