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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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    this is your kingdom, this is your crown; ruan, soldat
    #15
    <link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Playfair+Display' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'> <style type="text/css"> .woolf_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; background-color: #1E1F21; width: 600px; padding: 0 0 0 0; border: solid 1px #6b899570; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px #000; } .woolf_container p { margin: 0; } .woolf_image { position: relative; z-index: 4; width: 600px; } .woolf_gradient { position: absolute; z-index: 5; top: 553px; left: 0px; width: 600px; height: 200px; background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(0,0,0,0) 0%, rgba(30,31,33,1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(0,0,0,0) 0%,rgba(30,31,33,1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(0,0,0,0) 0%,rgba(30,31,33,1) 100%); filter: progidBig GrinXImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#00000000', endColorstr='#1e1f21',GradientType=0 ); } .woolf_text { position: relative; z-index: 6; width: 580px; padding-top: 10px; margin-top: -110px; } .woolf_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #859191; padding: 20px 35px; } .woolf_quote { position: relative; text-align: center; width: 60%; color: #5b686c; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em; letter-spacing: 1px; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px; border-bottom: solid 1px; } .woolf_name { position: relative; text-align: center; color: #2a3439; width: 100%; font: 40px 'Playfair Display', serif; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 1.3em; letter-spacing: 20px; padding-bottom: 10px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 0px #000; } .woolf_quotetwo { position: relative; text-align: center; color: #5b686c; width: 45%; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; letter-spacing: 1px; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px; border-top: solid 1px; } </style> <center> <div class="woolf_container"> <img class="woolf_image" src="https://s15.postimg.cc/bpsaehnrf/jaroslav-devia-715052-unsplash.jpg"> <div class="woolf_gradient"></div> <div class="woolf_text"> <p class="woolf_quote">bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze <br>if you must drink of me, take of me what you please</p> <p class="woolf_message">
    He almost misses it.

    He is so focused on the fight before him, the widening of jaws and the gleam of teeth in the dark. He almost doesn’t feel the powerful exhale of magic throughout Beqanna, the way it billows outward, the darkness of it all consuming everything in its path. It’s enough to give him pause, his mind splintered as it expands to take everything in. He continues to tangle with Ruan, continues to feel the way that they clash together, but he also feels when Bright’s magic fails her, when she finally falls crumpled to the ground.

    He roars then, feeling the ripples of her exhaustion fly through him like shrapnel.

    His eyes glitter and all compassion for the man before him are lost, dissolved to dust.

    Pulling on his magic once more, he throws Ruan back, widening the space between them. He angles his wolfish head toward Bright and then he looks back to the stallion. Without another word, without any sort of command or instruction, he throws the net of his power over Ruan and the baby boy and the girl trapped in ice, catapulting them through time and space to a place he plucked from the wolf’s memory, to the land of forests and pain.

    Then, without hesitation, he turns back to his sister, gathering her close in his mind and getting ready to do the same to them. Snarling with frustration, he grits his teeth and sends them through a rip in reality toward a volcanic land with several of their family members huddled together.

    He had no particular affinity for Tephra, but it was safe, and warm, and with enough relatives to suffice.

    He would figure out what he needed to do next later.
    </p> <p class="woolf_name">woolf</p> <p class="woolf_quotetwo">I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste </p> </div> </div> </center>
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    RE: this is your kingdom, this is your crown; ruan, soldat - by woolf - 11-03-2018, 01:36 PM



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