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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


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    Not All That is Lost is Gone[Valentine's Quest]
    #3
    <center><link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Playfair+Display+SC|Cinzel" rel="stylesheet"><div style="width: 500px; background: url('https://s1.postimg.cc/73x5q1cojz/Takei2.png'); padding-top: 5px; background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #000;box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000000;border-radius: 300px 300px 0 0;"><div style="width: 490px; background: url('https://s1.postimg.cc/73x5q1cojz/Takei2.png'); padding-top: 10px; background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #89312a; box-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000000;border-radius: 300px 300px 0 0;"><div style="font-family: 'Playfair Display SC', cursive; font-size: 50px; color: #000;margin-top: 00px;padding-right:10px;text-shadow: 0 0 3px #000,1px 0px 1px #a94c31, 1px 1px 1px #7d352d, 1px 1px 1px #7d352d, 0 0 10px #000, 0 0 10px #7d352d;">Takei</div><div style="width:450px; margin-top: 380px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; padding: 10px; font-family: Times;color: #000;font-size: 13px; line-height: 140%; text-align: justify; text-shadow: .2px .2px 0px #000;">
    It starts as it had begun the first time. The wind tosses at his ivory and maroon mane, salted spray tingling on his lips. The rhythm of the ocean sings to him, although the quiet hush of Hyaline had been sweet as he recovered. The mountains with their serene lakes offered him protection in the absence of his sight, but as the sun rose and he finally saw the light of day again, Takei found himself forfeiting the ridges and rivers for his beloved sea.

    It is dark again — as it was when the ocean rolled and his grandfather bled from the waves and Beqanna was swept away — but he finds the nighttime soothing. The waves play at his heels, riding onto the shore with foamy curls only to retreat as they touch his fetlocks. Takei tousles with them for a moment, lost in the endless game the ocean plays with the beachfront. It has been a decent amount of time since he’d last visited this exact shoreline, proven by the healed scars on his body and the long, straight horns mounted atop his head.

    Takei senses another presence (the soft crunch of sand underfoot and the break in the waves draws his ears’ attention) on the beach and twists to look behind him. There is no one, at least no sight. But there is a sensation — a tingle of a finger down his spine, the feeling of a breath curling against the fine hairs on his ear, the warmth of a body brushing against his shoulder. For a brief moment, the blood and bone stallion wonders if he will get to return home (or what used to be home; that tranquil island in the middle of a foreign sea, caught among the nest of his friends and the swell of affection).

    His thoughts twist toward Orion. The ink and paper stallion lived among the thick frond and dry desert of their island and yet nowhere else. Takei had spent blissful days (how many, he still isn’t sure) swaddled alongside the bulk of his lover’s side. They had bantered among the swell of the waves, kissed beneath the gaze of a thousand stars, and whispered sweet nothings in company with the cooing of tropical birds.

    With the memories (which pull at the still-tender strings of his heart) comes a sensation of overwhelming empathy. Takei can feel the emotion drag along the slope of his shoulders and across the bridge of his nose as though it were real and physical. Although the beach is outlined by the shine of the moon’s rays — the foam of the ocean’s waves, the granules of the shoreline underfoot, the surge of the dunes, the sway of the beach grass — the blood and bone man still cannot see any sign of life outside the normal nighttime beach critters.

    <i>“Do you miss him?”</i> The word is soft and so barely-there that Takei wonders if it is merely a voice he pulled from the whisper of the salty breeze. He shakes his head, putting it off as just a mere wanton thought of desire plucked from the turmoil of his mind. But it comes again, louder this time. <i>“Do you miss him, Takei?”</i>

    More than anything… More than the heat of summer during the bitterness of winter, more than the forest-green of his mother’s eyes, more than the taste of emerald grass when he’s starving. <b>“Yes, of course.”</b> He feels ignorant, answering a question that could be, for all he knows, asked by his own hallucinations. But the wind stills suddenly and the prickles of doubt in his chest are shoved aside.

    There, lined by the silver glow of the moon, is a figure among the coiling rush of the waves. He comes ashore as though he were birthed from the sea itself, smelling of salt and brine with his ink and paper locks plastered against the thick curvature of his neck. He steps out of the waves embrace and the sand leaves indentations of his hoofprints, which will soon be washed away when the tide rolls in.

    The breath that used to be in Takei’s lungs is gone and there is no air to replace it. <b>“Orion.”</b> It is a song, both heartbroken and reviving. He had thought his lover had been lost as their island had melted away like wax, dripping into an endless abyss of darkness until there was nothing. Yet Orion stood before him, looking very much alive with love in his eyes and blood in his vessels. <b>“I thought you were dead…”</b> Let alone the fact that there was a possibility he wasn’t real at all.

    Takei lunges toward the black tobiano, red and white lips trailing along the lines of his lover’s body — the plane of his cheek, the angle of his shoulder, the curve of his back, the muscle of his thigh. Orion looks and feels better than before, as though their time away had given him some sort of secret ability to grow firmer muscle and look like a younger version of himself. For a shattering moment, Takei comes to the realization his lover <i>is</i> dead.

    <i>“Takei, we do not have much time.”</i> Orion’s voice soothes Takei for a moment, as they stand chest to chest. The blood and bone stallion steps back to observe his lover’s face, cast in the otherworldly shine of both moon and star. <i>“When the tide rolls in, I will have to leave you.”</i> Takei twists to see that the waves loom closer even now, marking down each minute they have together. He knows there is no need to reconcile with Orion — their time had not been spent in anger at all. But he does need closure; he needs to know that this is the end of a bittersweet adventure.

    <b>“I don’t know if the island was real or not, but our love was.”</b> Hazel eyes search deep brown ones. They are puzzle pieces fit together beneath a sky carved from stardust and distant planets. All puzzles must fall apart in order to fit together again, someday. Takei wonders if his personal piece will fall against another puzzle, if it will ever make sense again. <i>“You will find another,”</i> Orion’s voice says, as if to answer the unspoken questions dancing between Takei’s mind and mouth.

    They are silent for the most part, watching as the ocean threatens their time. They stand embraced — blood and bone, ink and paper — as stars shoot above their heads with all the quickness of their fierce love for one another. They are a fire; quick to burn and slow to put out. But Takei knows it must be done, although the warmth of his lover’s skin against his does little to encourage those bittersweet thoughts.

    When they have inched as far up the shoreline as they can and the waves still lick at their heels, Takei knows he must finally say goodbye. It is an unfamiliar but not entirely unappreciated feeling, looking at Orion’s handsome face and knowing he will never see it again. <b>“You will always be my first love, Orion.”</b> His mouth places a lingering, tearful kiss against the other’s forehead. <b>“Thank you.”</b> As the seafoam touches their feet, the ink and paper stallion melts into the sea as quickly as he had come.

    The soft hush gently brushes against Takei’s spine. His heart is in shambles, but there is an underlying sensation of finality and security. He knows for sure now — Orion is gone forever, lost to the mystery of the island and the depths of the ocean. And although a generous piece of his heart will belong to the ink and paper behemoth, there is also still a good portion that will be able to devote itself to someone else, somewhere out there.

    <i>“Do not worry, Takei.”</i> The wind (the deity, the empathizer, the magicker) whispers against the tenderness of his heartstrings. Takei does not worry. He watches a shooting star flash across the sky, brilliant and blazing but then gone in a second. The sensation of another looming over his shoulder is gone. He is alone on the beach, with the ripples of the sea tugging at his legs and the currents of the breeze rolling over his shoulders.

    Surprisingly, he is content.
    </div><div style="font-family: 'Cinzel', serif; color: #000; font-size: 18px; text-align: center;font-weight:bold;padding-bottom: 10px;text-shadow: 0px 0px 6px #b45b3d;">watch the mind run far away, way ahead of us</div></center>
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    Messages In This Thread
    Not All That is Lost is Gone[Valentine's Quest] - by The Erotes - 02-01-2018, 11:02 AM
    RE: Not All That is Lost is Gone[Valentine's Quest] - by takei - 02-04-2018, 01:11 AM



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