• Logout
  • 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


    [open]  gunpowder and lead; all homeless
    #1
    The sisters walk into the Den with a plan. They would call out to the homeless, the abandoned. The girls wanted to offer them a place of their own where there were no rules...no nagging...no bed time. They could do what they wanted and when they wanted BUT the girls wanted to prove they didn't need adults to boss them around. That also the Beqanna Fairy would provide for them, care for them. All of these grown ups were scrambling around and fighting and bickering for no good reason when they should have been better. Did they not know this? They should have been more grateful.

    The pair move so that all could hear them. With a deep breath and as loud as her voice could go, Peach calls to all. "Colts and fillies! If you are in need of a home where there are no rules and no grown ups, come with us! We will give you a home but we need you! We also need to teach these grown ups a lesson! We will be the voice of the Beqanna Fairy and she will provide!"

    Poppy stands close to her sister, looking out as the children listen to them. A smile is on her lips as she beckons others to join them
    I'm gonna show him what little girls are made of
    Gunpowder and lead


    it's short but it's a start. starters are always awkward.
    Reply
    #2



    Anneliese had been busy in the flowers. Their sweet scent consumed her. She indulged herself by burying her nostrils deep into petals. She nearly fainted in the bliss of the scent that was now burning through her body. There was something about plants, trees, flowers, and all sorts of greenery that made her feel like home. A small strand of her dark green mane fell in front of her left eye. She curled her lower lip and blew a small whiff of air to shift the strand back into place. What a simple life Anne led. With no family she found herself amongst her own in a bed of petals and leaves.

    The den was quiet. It allowed Anne to hear the bees buzzing around her head attempting to get nectar from her primrose flowers. She shook her head and stumbled forward. As she tripped into dirt she heard a voice. What it offered was something Anne had been wanting. The green filly managed to her hooves and soared toward the two standing centrally in the den.

    ”Hello!” She rang as she skidded to a stop in front of them. ”May the faeries bless you.” She said with a dip of her head. ”My name is Anneliese or to put it simpler, Anne.”
    anneliese
    flower child follower of the faeries

    Reply
    #3

    Delicate things are pretty - cute, even,
    but you are not delicate.
    You are wild and lewd and unpredictable.
    You are breathtaking.
    You are beautiful.

    I have never abided much by rules. I'm a free-thinker, a risk-taker. A rebel some might say. Mum always liked to blame Dad. Of course, I've never met the man myself. Mum said he was great, and powerful. That I take after him in that way.

    But then, I'd been born different. How different, you might ask? Well, you see, I have a third eye. Right there, in the middle if my forehead. And I can see, well, everything. Ok, not everything, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But just about.

    That's how I got my name. Because of who I am. But today, who I am is just a girl. A girl who is very intrigued by this offer of a land with no rules, with no grown ups. Now thatif something I could get into. I don't know why I hadn't thought of it first.

    I am gracious and graceful in my approach (don't ask, it just comes naturally, apparently. Courtesy of my father, or so says my mum). I smile before introducing myself. ”Hello lovelies. I'm Giohde. I have to say, what a marvelous idea.”

    And it really is. I can already tell, these will be my people. And I will love them dearly.

    Giohde

    Reply
    #4


    Pollute had followed the sisters from the Playground to the Den. They had offered him something he’d been willing to take (who wouldn’t have?) and their search for recruitment led them to the Adoption Den. Children without homes seems like a great place to start; no tie-downs, no parents to hold them close, no fierce morals or religions to keep their feet to the ground. He stands beside the twins as they let out a call and his lips quip into an excited smile.

    They come quicker than he anticipated. First a dark green girl who smells strongly of flowers (he nearly wrinkles his nose at the scent, but she’s pretty and so he resists) who voices a greeting and blessing related to the fairies. Pollute smiles then – it’s wide and carefree and reckless – and his head turns to seek out the Den’s fairy. He knows there is one here, a motherly fairy who guards and feed and warms the lost children. When his eyes catch on her, he nods deeply before returning his attention toward the gathering group.

    There is another filly, with a peculiar gift. She has an extra eye, placed solidly in the middle of her forehead. Pollute avoids looking too much, but he can’t help it. She introduces herself as Giohde and he offers a smile in her direction as well. “I’m Pollute.” His voice is a bit deeper than the girls’ but still strung with the delicacy of prematurity. Give it another year, and he will certainly have a booming bass. “Beqanna has proven to all of us she will not be mistreated and the adults have done just that. They’re still doing it now.” He’s heard their complaining and screaming and bickering. Everyone has. “We hope Beqanna will grant us a home where we can do whatever we want without adults, where we can listen to the fairies and heed their knowledge, and where we can have the freedom to spread Beqanna’s words far and wide.”

    He doesn’t say much more. He knows they feel it.

    pollute.

    Reply
    #5
    Mother said she was weak. That she couldn't handle what's gifted to her. Perhaps it was how she cried, when she held her gift momentarily. How every emotion was channeled through every bone in her body spiraling towards her head. As she expelled that first cry in distress. How her own mother disdainfully stared at her, in mere disbelief before abandoning her own child.

    So there she remained. Until today.

    It wasn't uncommonl to see many children wandering about the den, for many parents abandoned them here. But to see such a group of foals was quite peculiar. Many of the other children remained away from each other allowing pitiful bleats to be emitted from their lips, awaiting for their lucky day. For their new mothers and fathers. 

    In truth, Heda doesn't want a new mother. She has already suffered enough heartbreak from that alone, so the little girl ad been waiting in a sense. For something or somewhere where she could lose herself. rather than kindle in the flames of hatred and greed that hailed from every equine within Beqanna. Except for them.

    She is cautious to enter the group, as her petite navy blue pistons driver her forwards. She over hears them and their plan, a home without parents count her in. Blue tinged wings flutter at her sides for a sense of warmth and assurance and even a touch of confidence since she has little of it. "Hi there. I'm Heda." She interjects allowing a honey sweet smile to tug at the corners of her lips. "Mind if I jump in on this idea of yours?" Her vocals are a bit deep laced with a roughness and a feeling of hope. As her hazel optics meet with each of them.
    HEDA
    Go right ahead, laugh at the girl who loved too easily
    HTML by Call

    Just getting into her :|
    [Image: dc9b5pd-da224f9b-4062-4ac8-924f-4dd26147...1Y8jmwEofM]
    Ex-Queen of Loess
    ・❥・
    Reply
    #6


    There had never been a need for parents, not in all her short little life. She barely even knows what they are or what they're for. But it didn't matter, she had the fairies. They are all around, one only has to look close and hard to see them. They had been there for her when she'd needed them and, thanks to the mother guardian fairy, she is alive to see the world today. They are so amazing and wonderful, the fairies, never cruel. Even if they seemed to be at times. The small girl had heard their cries, the adults who'd 'lost'. The Beqanna Fairy, best of them all, was generous and kind. Lucky for them she allowed them even the smallest of gifts after changing the whole world. Some still didn't seem grateful. But Smidge knows. Like bone-deep instinct, she knows the fairy loves her children and will always do what's best for them. She is the only mother they would ever truly need.

    The tiny girl, smaller than even your average small filly (not unhealthy, not dwarf, just very small) had wandered to the Den from the meadow. She didn't have a reason, just felt like trekking. And plus, it's somehow a little warmer here, and the snow is not near as deep. The snow in the meadow had easily reached her chin, so moving around had been a little more difficult. And cold. But all the moving she had to do, and her thick winter coat had made up for it. Ugh, this coat. She is glad for it, but due to her size she is one tiny fluff ball. After the long trip (long for her, anyway), she'd been tired and decided to nap, so she'd found some brush where she'd been completely hidden and laid down to rest.

    This is where she is when the two girls come into the clearing nearby and call out for all the boys and girls. Smidgen is curious, excited even, but she remains where she is. Silent and sly like a snow fox, watching as they all come and observing them each in turn. She's surprised at the girl with an extra eye, stunned at the girl with blue-edged wings, intrigued at the boy with the crackly voice, pleased with the girl who loves the flowers. She waits until the blue-ish girl named Heda says something before she bursts from the brush in her tiny glory, twigs in her silvery mane and tail. "Me too!" Her voice is small and musical, very feminine but not quiet. She goes to stand under one very pretty wing, hoping the girl doesn't mind, but she's never been shy. "I'm Smidgen! I love the faiwies." She beams at them, smile making her blue eyes sparkle from what can be seen under her long-ish forelock. A home sounds kinda nice to her, somewhere she belongs and can continue doing whatever she wants, as she pretty much always has.

    Smidgen!

    small in stature, not heart



    (Sorry this is a lil crappy, wrote it kinda fast)
    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)