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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


    kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep; Cezary
    #1

    kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

    Like most of Locket's children, she too had been forgotten, discarded, unwanted. Like a doll upon a shelf, tossed aside when the fascination wore off. For Lye, there had never been a fascination. Her pumpkin coloured eyes had looked upon her mother and had seen her horror, her fear. Automatically she had been tossed aside, unwanted. Attacked. Attacked for being born? What sort of mother did such a thing? Lye was a troubled young girl, she wore her heart upon her sleeve. And spent a long time of her life roaming The Beach. the stench of death she had found becoming, almost comforting. But there comes a time in a girl's life when she needed to escape the salty air, the sand in her coat. So the Meadow, it was.

    Like a raven she flew through the squelchy grass shoots of spring, her canter as fast as the the slippery ground could let her go (in parts the snow still lay in melting clumps), and her unsteady right hind could allow. But she went, she went with a blinded fury, a cascade of ebony feather splaying around her limbs in a furious flurry. She had no brakes, no intention of stopping; it was the entire meadow or nothing, but she needed to run. She needed the escape. the flashbacks of her past, she ran from quicker. Her stride lengthening, nearing a full gallop, she closed her eyes.

    If she hit a tree, she would lay there, stunned. staring up at the darkening sky and would make a wish upon a falling star.

    But she didn't. instead, she came to a careening halt, mud and grass flying about her in wayward clumps. Her breathing ragged, her lungs gasping, wanting air with such a rush. Each breath felt like fire, burning, consuming. It had come to her, that the Beach was cold, cold and dead, and she was living, as much as she’d hate to admit it (after all, the dead tell no tales, they also do not converse that well…) she had flesh and muscle, bone and a heart. It may be cold, as dead as where she had lived for a long time in her life, but she was starting to think now that the longer she stay in the beach’s confines, the prison of death would just consume her even more, making her madder that the black mare already was.

    So the Field it was, whether she’d attract something, anything, would soon be a miracle.

    • busted x locket • orange eyes, immortality • no one •
    html by charmx, image by sniegoski
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    #2
    His childhood had been an easy and pleasant one. He had wanted for nothing, except perhaps for more affection. His angel-winged mother had not been one prone to displays of affection, and neither had his father. His parents were two opposites, the day and the night, sun and the moon - and he was a weird conglomeration of the two. The grey in between, the blue sky.

    He was no stranger to death.
    Every day when he peels back his flesh to reveal muscles, then deeper still to his internal organs and then finally his bones, he is reminded of mortality. Not his, of course, he is immortal, perpetually stuck in the prime of his life. He could style himself as a reaper of death and descend with a wide, skull-grin and scare the hell out of everyone, but he doesn't.

    Perhaps he should. He might get more attention in the Field. He has yet to even find a single mare willing to join his herd. He despairs. He knows he cannot be that ugly, having followed the strong Spanish heritage on his mother's side, so what's the reason? Perhaps he hasn't spoken to enough mares. It's a game of numbers, after all, right?

    The black mare catches his attention almost straight away with her Halloween eyes. He's not one to judge a book by its cover - but she sure did look interesting, especially the way she screeched to a very sudden stop in the middle of the Field. He approaches her, a friendly smile on his tan lips, wings held lightly against his sides.
    "Hello there, I'm Cezary. What's your name?" he pauses. "You seem in a hurry."
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    #3

    kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

    Pumpkin eyes blinked momentarily; she's in a vivid daydream, darkness creeping on her, shadows dancing across the blackening skies. There are many in the field this evening, but they all have strangely blank faces. Lye's eyes squint, they blink and everything is back to normal. The black mare had spent far too long on her own; the mind is a fragile thing and left untouched and lonely, it often turned into something quite dangerous. She was worried she was on the verge of becoming the coldness that her sister was displaying. When she left her in the meadow talking to Lagertha, she was certain that the blue roan mare had lost any slither of hope within her.

    Where as Lye, her little soul within was clutching onto the last thorny stems of hope. Her fragile little fingers bloodied and scarred from holding on so dear to that last shred of hope. This was her last chance, her first journey into the world outside of the beach, to interact, to find someone, something that will make her whole, something that will colour her very grey world.

    And then she sees him. He's like a golden sunrise, shifting along the grass; wings adorn him and at first she squints her eyes tight. She's no stranger to mythical traits, her sister was winged, and she herself was cursed, blessed, one might even call it an amazing hand in time, but Lye still found being immortal was far more of a burden than most. It made your loneliness that much longer to bear.

    He smiles and the black mare feels knots loosen within her shoulders. Sinewy springs beneath her ebony skin unravel. A smile. All it takes is a small smile and she remembers she's in the realm of the living. No ghosts wander here, no lost souls. And the buckskin steed with glorious wings was something of flesh and bone, of beating heart and rushing blood.

    "Cezary. Hello." Lye speaks, her voice a crackle, static in the crisp air. "I'm Lye, Pois--" she stops. mentally retracts what she was about to say. Poison. She was poison, a demon's kiss, unwanted, grey. She must stop introducing herself with such dissatisfying titles. She was simply, Lye. Her unkempt mane ruffled in the breeze, knotted in ringlets over her orange eyes as she met his warm gaze.

    "Can you run from the past? I think I've tried." she pauses, takes a few steps forward and extends her nose towards the stranger. "It doesn't work too well."

    • busted x locket • orange eyes, immortality • no one •
    html by charmx, image by sniegoski
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    #4
    She seems taut, like a bow string, but at his smile she seems to unwind. For that Cezary is glad, because he knows the toll that always being on guard can bring, he had seen it in his mother, who had broken as easily as an eggshell underfoot at his father's death. For so long, she had fought against those emotions, keeping up her barriers, staying alert and strong but - it had crushed her in the end.

    "Pois?" he questions with a tilt of his head, his forelock falling into his dark eyes. He doesn't meant to put her on the spot, of course, he is just a little confused. But he realises how rude he is being and tries to change the topic. "Pleasure to meet you, Lye. You have a nice name. I've never heard it before."

    Horses in Beqanna have a tendency to name themselves uniquely, so he's never actually met anyone with someone else's name, but he does think that Lye is a rather pretty name regardless.

    "Ah yes, the trick is to accept the past," he says. "And to learn from it. The past is a lesson in forgiveness, self-discovery and letting things go."

    Of course, he is no philosopher so he has no idea how true his statements are for anyone other than himself. "But that explains the rush, at least." he says with another well-natured smile.

    "Did you come to the Field on purpose?"
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    #5

    kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

    In her dreams she imagines worlds of fairytales, images so sparkling and fresh, wanting and grand, but soon those blissful dreams turn to nightmares and terror sets in, cold to the bone. She will never forget or forgive the pain that her mother had bestowed upon her; Lye wore her scars neither with honour nor disgust, they were simply there, a reminder everyday that she was unwanted. Demon spawn. Poison. One could only take so much until like fragile glass, she splinters and breaks. Luckily not yet, but oh so close, the mare feels she is on a teetering edge.

    That's why she came to the field, for a chance of something, anything. Even if it meant getting kidnapped by some deranged psychopath, she would accept it as it was something different, taking her away from living in the past. But now, she was hopeful, tentative but hopeful, that Cezary was a real figure in her daydream.

    "Thank you, I've never really thought of my name as anything. It just simply, is." her words are cool, calm, her velvet jaw unhinging, her lips pursing into some sort of a smile, she offered him something, gratitude in the simplest of lip movements.

    "Cezary. It sounds exotic." she looked at him once more, this time taking in his form, his roman nose, his thicket build, he was certainly something more than the fine arabian her mother was. she gave a low nicker, "Accepting the past. That's a hardship." a silent pause, a flick of her tail. The soft spring grass beneath her feet felt pliable, bouncy, as she made movements closer to the buckskin steed.

    "You're very wise, Cezary." her words are quaint, smooth. Her orange eyes blink several times, her play on a smile trying to stay a fixture on her black lips. "I'm trying to find purpose, you could say. I was certain I'd find it here."

    • busted x locket • orange eyes, immortality • no one •
    html by charmx, image by sniegoski
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    #6

    cezary

    The scars he wore were ones of battle rather than ones of a bad past. His mother had been quite eager to instill in Cezary the importance of being disciplined and a good soldier. He had, naturally, revolted against this as any young colt would, by doing the exact opposite. And here he is today, laidback, relaxed, almost with a hindhoof cocked permanently.

    Lye seems to be the cool, collected type once a little bit more settled down. He definitely prefers seeing her like this."Well, it's pretty anyway." he says with a polite smile. Her name feels light on his tongue, it rolls easily and fits well in his mouth. It is a pleasure to say in its simplicity.

    She comments that his name sounds exotic, and he offers another small smile. "Yes, I'm not sure where it comes from." he had never asked, truth be told. He had never been curious, or thought about it, really. It was just his name. Very much how she feels about hers, he would imagine. She comes closer, and he extends his nose to exchange breaths with her.

    "You flatter me, m'lady," he says playfully. Of course, while he is polite, he has no room in his vocabulary for being over-respectful and he certainly does not call her m'lady out of habit - its just a playful jest, hopefully one that she might find amusing.

    "If its purpose you want, you could always come with me. Now I don't know exactly what I'm going to do yet, but it'll be something a bit more than your standard herd family - although there'll be that too, if that is what you're interested in." he says. There's no point witholding his goals from her, after all, if she ever intends to join him.

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    #7

    kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

    "Flattery. It's the world's way of making you feel better about yourself; after all, if others see a flaw or strength, it must be true."

    Cool, like the waters of the lapping stream, her words slipped from pursed lips. She's talking too much, she always did, it was neither a nervous habit or over confident flaw. The black mare had spent a long time on her own; the souls on The Beach were very little company. It was like being stranded on an island, having yourself for company and no other, when you saw someone, anyone, you just needed to talk, needed to say anything -- even if it were complete gibberish, it made your hoarse throat feel something at the very least. She shook her head a little, graceless and unkempt, she looked rather moth-eaten and wild, some might find her beautiful in that sort of feel way, but others would have found her a mess, another ink stain on society.

    "Forgive me, Cezary. I've been alone for far too long, a little conversation seems to be going a long way." Lye wore a small smile, crooked in some angles but a smile nonetheless. Her inkblot ears twitched underneath his words, they were smooth, almost a soft music to her them in some ways. A lilt of a handsome man, rugged on the outside but a kind heart within. She took a little step forward, tentative and hesitant, her hoof fell to the ground, and then the other, until she was practically right infront of her. her muzzle outstretched.

    "Is that not meant to be the fun of it? Some sort of adventure, having an accomplice always makes things easier, No?" there was a tangerine glint in her halloween eyes, a little bit of fire, the first in a very, very long time. "It would be nice to not wander the world alone anymore." her last words were a mere whisper, she wondered if he'd catch them, or they'd become lost in the spring breeze.

    • busted x locket • orange eyes, immortality • no one •
    html by charmx, image by sniegoski
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    #8
    Imma post in Golden Plains for her! <3
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