Astana - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Forest (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=73) +---- Thread: Astana (/showthread.php?tid=24359) |
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Astana - Erio - 07-23-2019 It’s poor taste, mother would say, how Erio wanders off now. Since introducing him to father, it has solidified the boy’s place among the family. Sinner is aware of his existence, thus marking him prudent to the lineage. He cannot be so easily discarded like mother originally intended. Of course, Valdis never said that aloud. It would be cruel to admit something like that, but the fire crackling in her eyes and the snarls she often adorned in Erio’s company was enough indication. He isn’t wanted, isn’t loved, and yet he still pushes himself to rise higher than her expectations. Still, Erio practices determination to prove everyone wrong. And so he consistently ventures off so that the world may shape and mold him. Experiences will define him more than mother’s scolding and negativity. He left in the night and pressed his lips to her brow in an affection kiss before melting into the shadows cloaked in fur and claws. The meadow is a familiar place, and yet his feet guide him down worn trails. Erio’s eyes enthusiastically drink in the sights as the scenery shifts from open fields to shadowed and closed forests. Leaf beds scatter across the ground and rustle beneath his small weight as he threads through the trees, embracing the solitude for the first time ever. His shaggy coat ripples with each short stride. He glances back at it once with a small grin, becoming more and more comfortable in this skin. There’s a reason father is the same. Erio only stops once underneath a gnarled oak tree, his breath quickly steadying as he lowers his haunches to sit, his long tail curling around him contently while he observes the world with fascination. [@[Astana] RE: Astana - Astana - 08-01-2019
@[Erio] RE: Astana - Erio - 08-14-2019
He has been watching her, observing her just as she adoringly traces her eyes across the trees and grass. It’s beautiful how delicately she absorbs the world and dives headfirst into the wonders of the world. Somehow, Erio can read her fascination and concern and joy for this new land because it isn’t her home – or at least, wasn’t. This is all nearly as new to her as it is to him, but Erio’s skin reeks of Beqanna. He is one of the many generations borne to this wild place, but that doesn’t spare him from the enchantment. Thus far, he has only surrounded himself with the barren cliffs of Pangea, the open fields of the meadow, and the density of the forest. There still remains so much to explore, to enjoy, and he has already promised himself to visit each of the lands in attempt to educate himself in ways outside of warfare. If only he knew that she dreams the same. Her voice is the soft chords of a harp, lulling him into serenity as the moon shines high above. The softness of her eyes elicits a warm grin in return. ”Hello,” he says back in between the sound of crickets chirping, ”it’s too pretty of a night.” And though it is, oftentimes his thoughts keep him afloat and prevent him from drowning beneath the weight of a dream world. Being nocturnal – at least today – serves him well by acquiring him company and a sense of wanting that he so often lacks. ”Not boring at all!” He cannot help to thump his tail excitedly against the forest floor, thankful for the compliment. It still seems so rare to hear them (his thoughts only echo mother’s shame). Inclining his head, he cannot help to ask, ”If you could turn into anything, or have any power, what would you be?” He pauses thoughtfully, his paw scraping against a leaf. ”What would you find exciting?” Because although his plumed tail isn’t boring, it also isn’t enthralling. erio @[Astana] RE: Astana - Astana - 08-17-2019 a s t a n a @[Erio] RE: Astana - Erio - 09-12-2019
How grand it is, he thinks, to so quickly find someone who also marvels at the star-studded sky. He beams at her as the moonlight dances across his eyes and ripples across his coat when a breeze whispers past. So much of the world seems consumed by their personal vendettas that their surroundings are often taken for granted or ignored. For weeks, Erio wondered if his miniature stature brought him closer to their world. From his vantage, blooming flowers, sprouting shrubs, and babbling creeks often swarm him. It’s impossible to ignore so much of what engulfs him; it’s not as though his eyes can easily meet those of a lost lover and distract him from all else. Perhaps, until now. A rare occasion this is, to have his eyes torn from the moonlit scene to admire something – someone – else of beauty and charisma. His heart patters both in excitement and confusion. He has only truly spoken with siblings, and while they are kind, they are not Astana. His head inclines as he listens with fascination to her childhood memory. ”I’ve only seen them from afar, too. They elude me most times,” because I’m different, he wants to say but the words never come to fruition. It seems that Erio is meant to be different, to be a new breed or something. A hellhound, yes, but not at all fitting in the criteria of aggression or sinister plotting. One day, he will find his purpose, but in the meantime he is content filling his thoughts with Astana’s dreamlike voice as it wraps around him like tendrils of silk. ”That sounds breathtaking,” he turns his head away from her and stares admiringly up at the moon, picturing her reaching such extravagant goals. ”I want to explore, too. I want to see high above the trees, to see beyond the mountains and seas, because with it comes knowledge and adventure. I am not and will never be a soldier,” what once destroyed him emotionally has since become water under a bridge. He can accept that he will never fight. His heart does not crave power or dominance or glory. ”I just want to be the good in the world,” he remarks hesitantly, uncertain how to ever achieve this, before flickering his eyes back to Astana. ”There is so much darkness, so much danger, in Beqanna. I want to be a helping light, but I don’t even know how that would be possible – or where, even, to begin.” And what he doesn’t confess is that his own family flirts with the edges of that darkness, seeking sinful power and glory by destroying others. It would be a great conflict, but in such a feral world, it’s to be expected eventually. A sheepish grin just barely exposes the points of his jagged teeth. ”Such silly dreams children can have, I suppose,” he chuckles, indicating only his own impossible wishes. erio @[Astana] |