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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


    anyone;
    #1
    She spun the stars on her fingernails
    Oddly enough, Nayl has been trying to keep tabs on the other lands. Her energy is the cost of her knowledge as she often reflects on the lands and creates a heathen from the earth to subtly spy. Weeks prior, she conjured a seagull from the fallen feathers from their Nerinian nests. It unfurled its wings and came to life with a whir and twist of her shielded thoughts. Like a falcon, it rose from the ground and soared across the coast until it eventually found Ischia. The land was silent, ever so eerie and seemingly abandoned. Nayl’s makeshift bird drank in the sights as it flew among the trees until it returned to her with the information she sought after. An amused smile played across her lips before the feathers fell apart, destroying the bird in the blink of an eye.

    They, the family in Ischia, are unaware that this is the reason for her visit. Miles were trekked until she arrived at the distant coast. She bided her time and reserved her energy in those days of travel, anticipating her arrival here. The ocean rises to the occasion, parting itself so that she may traverse along the sand. Two walls of water extend along her sides, rippling as fish swam curiously near the edge. Her magic weaves and twists like tendrils from her mind, releasing its grip on the ocean only when she has arrived on the familiar banks of Ischia. Everything crashes down behind her, creating a burst of wind that whips around her unruly locks. Perhaps a bit dramatic, but not unlike her.

    Nayl’s mouth opens to let loose a call to anyone, knowing so few are already here.



    Nayl
    covet and myrina's creation
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    #2
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    ASHLEY

    Ischia is not abandoned.

    Ashley alone defends it, as well as the few who live here within the Island’s borders. It is a small isolated island, but there is life here. And one day, it will thrive. For now, the band rests with a few stallions, a few mares, and their children. And though Ashley cannot read into the woman’s mind, he is not caught unawares that she has returned again to their shores—only a woman on a mission would be so forward.

    He dips his handsome ginger head as he clears a palm branch, breaking into the clearing with a thrushing sound. His red rippling muscles tighten at the sight of her. Nayl. The progressive young Nerinian Queen. Amazon. They would always be Amazonions to him, and he had learned one thing in particular from his time—

    They were not to be trusted.

    His ears flick and his mouth twists into a sort of ‘harrumph,’ as he approaches, but his consummate gentleman manners come to the fore, a formal voice warm and dripping in honey sounds, despite his wariness. “Hello, Nayl. What brings you to Ischia? Surely you are not here to take in the sights—you’ve seen them already.”
    and the girls caressed me down ughhh that's that lovin' sound
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    #3
    She spun the stars on her fingernails
    ”Ashley,” she doesn’t bother to mask the pleasure in her voice when she sees him, admitting her subtle fondness of him. Although their initial meeting had been awkward at first with his watery snorts, it still evolved into something enjoyable and placid. He is a stern man, grounded and set in his ways. He is the fortification, the ultimate foundation, of Ischia. It’s he that cradles most of the power and sway in this land as Ea’s scent has faded greatly since her last visit.

    The tide resumes its rhythm behind her after she had released it to crash down. It slithers up the sand, just shy of her hooves, before receding back into itself. Everything remains the same, if not just slightly wilder now that the lands are growing into themselves and not quite so fresh and new. Nayl’s eyes momentarily lift away from Ashley to observe the trees and the emerald see of forest beyond him before she levels on his hardened gaze. ”In reality, I had only seen the beach and a few trees,” an airy chuckle rises from her throat easily enough as she idly shrugs. ”My visit was briefer than I anticipated. We didn’t talk quite as much,” her tone is truthful enough, her face untouched by deceit.

    Another couple of steps guide her forward, now familiar with the sand underneath her after having been roaming her own coastline in Nerine. Her gaze only finds him then, drinks in the sight of him after months of separation. ”I’ve come into myself more,” her body ripples with power again, and she embraces it after having had it stripped away for so long, ”so I was hoping to cross paths again and make this a less political visit and more of a friendly one since no one has yet to see Nerine.”


    Nayl
    covet and myrina's creation
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    #4
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    ASHLEY

    There is a pause here. Ashley’s ears flick forward. Nayl’s posture isn’t just perfect—it is pristine. And he is no idiot. He can smell the scent of another on her pelt, and the way she is just prim and proper. Just so.

    You’re trying too hard, Nayl.

    He tilts his head, before causing his wings to appear in a flash. A rear, and his muscles flex with the athleticism of someone one quarter of his age—immortality has its perks, after all. With a thunderous clap, his wings push through the air and he is on all fours again, driving a downcurrent of air rushing past them both. The breeze tosses hair and his golden eyes flash at her before he steps up to her—he has no reason to fear her. There is nothing about her that intimidates him. Her flashing eyes and strinking body get to him in a way that they would get to a man who could breathe—but she is not all that she appears to be.

    But he would reserve judgment.  

    He steps into her, leading her towards the clearing of trees she speaks of. “Well then come, and experience the exotic wonders of Ischia.” He smiles at her, hesitant to call her friend, and waiting simply to call her bluff. And yet, as he cocks his head towards the treeline he has just appeared through, he moves that same bespoke palm branch, before he takes a purposeful step. The path, little more than a humble trail, opens up wide, lining the way with curbs of stargazer lilies. Wild, beautiful, and fragrant, just like her. “Make yourself at home here in my jungle. There is a small river that lets out into a rather sizeable spring in the middle of this island. The crowning jewel of this place, to be sure…”

    He steps aside, allowing her to enter first, his eyes on the way her body moves. Everything beautiful. Everything perfect, like Chanel.

    Everything Calculated.

    and the girls caressed me down ughhh that's that lovin' sound
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    #5

    The island teems with life.

    And though it is perhaps more subtle than the other lands, it is there nonetheless.  It is in the struggle of the vines that coil the trees like pythons.  It is in the silent but vibrant blooms of algae that illuminate the shallows at night.  Life is in the rustle of a macaw’s wings as it teeters on a branch, trying simultaneously to rest and refuel on the seeds grasped between its toes.  It is in the seeds that fall to the fertile, dark earth.  It is life that shreds the shell, sprouts the seedling, and rises into another sentinel swaying against the trade winds. 

    It is there, on Ischia, on display for all.

    But it is not the sort of life that interests the others.  Sabrael is young but not a fool.  His mother’s trail has long since been covered by banana leaves and shifting sand.  He wonders, always, where she’s gone (because the island is only so big, after all, and he has all the time in the world to map every inch of it out).  But he never wonders why.  Faces and family are fleeting, if they are there at all.  His father’s inexplicable absence clawed furrows into the meat of his heart, which time and normality mended as best they could.  He thinks, now, that Ea never healed like him.  Thinks maybe she could never move on, never let go of the Dale or the crown or the man.

    The pensive roan pushes his way through the crowding jungle plants and transitions onto the beach.  He pushes, too, thoughts away of his mother and father reuniting on her singular quest to find him, save him from whatever holds him prisoner against his family.  It is childish and stupid.  Life is here, he scolds himself.  Life is ahead.  And indeed, it is. 

    Tension is a vine that snakes around his own stomach, squeezing him gently at first when he comes upon the pair.  It is impossible not to hear a new arrival splashing upon their border (impossible not to be reminded of how quiet it must be, nearly devoid of the chatter and movement of their own kind).  This one smells of the sea, but not the same.  Brine rises off of her wind-swept mane but it is a cold salt, not heated by the blistering, tropical sun.  She is not of Ischia, but Ashley is.  It soothes him to see the red stallion barring her movement further into their home.  They have reason to worry when it comes to outsiders.

    Sabrael reaches them as the magician is welcoming the mare deeper into the jungle.  He locks eyes with Ashley for a moment behind Nayl – the smallest of frowns marring his angular face – before giving in to his trust of the man.  “Sabrael,” is all he says at first.  The vines loosen around his gut.  He means to follow them, and nods his assent.  The spring is sizable, yes.  Sizable enough to entomb the crisped bones of an overzealous visitor, if need be.          



    Sabrael

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    #6
    She spun the stars on her fingernails
    Nayl takes note of how he watches her and drinks in the sight of her. He stands sentinel with eyes of steel while trying to decipher why she is truly here, what really brings her back to their island after these past months. It had genuinely been her curiosity which resonates from her as her gaze slips past him toward the trees towering above them.

    There is a jungle beyond her reach, the island teeming with lush vegetation and exotic flowers. It almost pains her to think of someone other than herself living here, surrounded by what she is most familiar with. Oftentimes she reflects back on her childhood surrounded by jaguars and macaws, by monkeys and tapirs. The fluttering in her heart pulls her forward and toward the treeline, but she takes pause when they are joined by another male. She regards him half-heartedly, soaking in the hardened edges of his face and the mistrust clouding his eyes. Sabrael, he says, and she returns it with a simple reply: ”Nayl.” She is more than that, however, but she lets the formalities slip to the back of her mind where there rests a multitude of untouched thoughts, schemes, and ideas.

    ”Lead the way,” her voice is chilled, but not unkind as she takes to casually following Ashley along the trail where she finds herself consumed by a sea of green. It warms her heart and reminds her still of her home – her first home – as a smile creeps along her lips. The scents are different – she didn’t expect them to be identical – but the sights are enough to elicit a fair amount of homesickness.

    Sabrael can be heard walking along as well, and she regards him again but this time with more curiosity; however, her attention quickly finds Ashley again. ”I assume Tiphon is no longer around?” She can’t help but spur for a reaction, trying to gage them and seek a link. An idle glance finds Sabrael again to search his face before resuming her admiration of the jungle around them.



    Nayl
    covet and myrina's creation
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    #7
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    ASHLEY

    An easy smile set upon Ashley’s features as he regarded Nayl. Warm eyes roved over her, and brought about by suspicion, when he noticed—“I assume congratulations are in order,” says welcomingly as they begin their journey to the center of the island. The curve of her belly was unmistakable—Marlyn sported one of her own, and though she was happy about it, he recalls vividly the long nights, the sickness, and the aches and pains. “Is the pregnancy going well? Not too painful, I hope.” He moves the conversation to more easy things, always keeping in mind that she was a woman like his mother—like his daughter. Always scheming and calculated.

    Always plotting.

    Sabrael follows behind, a silent vigil, and yet a companion as ever. The dragon stays with them, as suspicious as he… and Ashley is grateful for the company. If there was anything, even the subtlest motion that Nayl is up to something… well, they are not foolish men. Someone came into their home and abused one of their own; it was not going to happen again.

    Quietly, the ginger man drapes his wing, pushing the tip into the dirt, casting a no-magic spell that would inhabit the entire island until otherwise revoked. Without their abilities, perhaps they could talk as mortals do, and learn some ground truths as to what brought the beautiful Nerinian Queen to his shores. It would prevent shifting for the time being as well, but whatever tricks the woman had up her sleeve, it would also render them completely useless.

    The land was blossoming with flowers of every color, put on display as best as they were during the spring time; the fragrance of the air was heady and welcoming. Ischia, always beautiful, was never quite so elegant, and Ashley knew that the former Amazon would likely find herself wishing for the old days.

    “So, the chore of ruling fell to you. How do you enjoy the weight of the crown?”
    and the girls caressed me down ughhh that's that lovin' sound
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    ooc: if you don't like what he did with the magical defense spell thing, lemme know and I will change it Big Grin
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    #8
    It was a gorgeous day out, one that the young mare would drink in. She had already reached a prime age of nine years, but still held the youthful spark in her eye that appeared the day she was born. Vida was a fiery creature, not one to be easily tamed, and yet this wonderful island held her in its grip steadfast. She had become accustomed to Ischia, so much so that she dared say she would never give up this home for another.

    Of course, she had said that about her last home, before the stallion disappeared and she sought refuge in the Tundra. Sure, the snow was beautiful, but the lush jungles here, the peaceful sounds of the forest, it felt more like home to her. A warm breeze blew through the mare's thick mane, pushing her forelock out of her eyes. Tilting her head up, closing her eyes in content, the mare thought back on the time she'd spent here so far since Beqanna changed all those moons ago.

    It had come so suddenly, to the point Vida was caught off guard. Usually the grullo mare was so vigilant, so aware of what was happening around her. She had heard rumors of the war that had made the land angry, but even she didn't think that everything would just suddenly change like that. Her home, her friends had all disappeared. She'd seen some on her travels before arriving out at the island kingdom, but not many. Then again, she didn't have many friends. The horses who lived here besides her, she didn't think she could call them friends either. Acquaintances, more like, because, to Vida, a friend was somehorse who was willing to look out for you, as well as be open to your past.

    So far, no one here knew anything about her. And, for now, until the horses proved trustworthy otherwise, she could keep it that way.

    The call of a parrot in the nearby trees set off a chain reaction, sparking some of them to take flight and fly off towards the other trees on the opposite side of the spring Vida was currently resting at. For a moment, the cautious mare watched them, mesmerized for a moment by their bright and expressive colors. When compared to her own plain grullo coat, well, she was a boring one to look at. However, she did not care what she looked like, even with the scar running down her leg.

    As if sensing it was the focal point of her thought, Vida's leg bolted with pain. The mare stomped her hoof, her muscles twitching in irritation as she remembered how she got it. It hadn't been a bad fall that day, coming down from the mountain, but that wet rock had been just slippery enough that it took her down the trail a number of feet before she came to a painful stop.

    The scar had long since healed, thank goodness, and usually didn't cause her pain, except for when she thought about it. And speaking of, Vida reminded herself to stop thinking about it so the pain would go away.

    The grullo snorted, blowing air from her nose before lowering her head to graze on the meadow grass. There was a lot of it over the island, but, for some reason, the grass growing around the big spring tasted the most delicious to her. Its soft texture and dewy taste made eating and swallowing it quite easy, providing a good meal for the fit mare. Vida was not up the caliber of warrior that some of the others here, or throughout Beqanna, were, but she was a fit creature in her own right. Over the years, despite a healthy diet, her frame had slimmed out some, so that most of her structure was lean and not covered in a thin layer of fall-time fat to last through winter. She lacked the fat on her stomach that most mares retained from having a foal, showing that she was still a maiden.

    Her shoulders and legs were healthy with muscle, her hindquarters in good shape. Her tapered features flowed together nicely, all complimented by her (still plain in her mind) coat color, and her black white-streaked mane and tail.

    But, every once in a while, Vida liked to kick back, relax, and enjoy the grass as opposed to wandering the island or going through some training exercises at the sparring grounds on those occasions she went to the mainland.

    Vida went to take another mouthful of grass, but stopped when an unnatural breeze fluttered through the blades. Though Vida herself was not blessed with a magic gift of any sort, she knew how to recognize it; something Tiphon had mentioned, and taught her a little bit about, back when he was around. The land knew when something was amiss; a horse just had to know how to sense it. And sense something Vida did.

    The magic didn't give off a sense of threat, or anger; instead, it almost felt protective, as if Ischia knew it had to shield its occupants. Vida looked up at the sky, silently wondering what that could've been about. However, since it was not threatening, she would let fate take its course. The mare lowered her head and continued to graze, her delicate teeth and lips pushing the grass aside as she went for another mouthful, her ears up and turning to pick up on any approaching creatures.

    - x - x - x -

    Hope ya'll don't mind me jumping in. It's been a while since Vida's been up to anything so I thought I'd get back into the swing of things with her.

    Vida is hanging around the main spring that Ashley and the others are headed to, just in case I should've made it more clearer.
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