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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


    B A D W O L F || Any
    #1
    look what you made me do.
    He stands by the small opening of the wall, placidly gazing out at the world beyond Taiga. Soon, very soon, he would release Deimos from his position. There were better things the magician needed to do and the need for the Wall would soon fade. Tension crackles in the kingdom, aware that something was coming. Only a fool would not be suspicious of those lurking in his kingdom, avoiding him.

    Once more he must be the patient one. Already his anger had fled after that day with Deimos and Circy. Interesting creature that one. There is a glimmer within her, not so much dark, but perhaps simply bored. Bored with the staleness of day to day life. The red eyed wraith was something new and shiny and offered a hope for something beyond dull peace. Despite the claims of wanting peace throughout the land, peace was boring. Everyone gets sick of it after awhile. This was what he had always counted on, this is what brought him here to begin with.

    There is nothing more to do then wait. So he lingers near the twisted corpses of the trees. Waits and watches.

    Gryffen
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    #2
    Deathwish
    im a DIY pioneer, they tryna get involved
    She has not had time to herself at all in the time she’s been alive. Born into a coven—of sorts—where her family all wore the same robes and reminded her daily of how lucky she was. How special she was.

    How useful she was.

    Deathwish snorts her derision. Her family. She knows her power. She knows that they are useless without her. Counted on her for their plan—coercing her to cause a little chaos.

    She loves chaos.

    But now, she is collecting more objects for her collection. She finds that she enjoys fear, and death. Power by way of control. That is her forte. She revels in the control of decomposing her world—bringing it back again. Like black play dough. Her cool gaze and lavender grey pelt look off into the distance (the other side of this hell hole full of asinine creatures) and sees the oncoming shadow of a dark something, winding his way through the trees. She has sensed that she has entered a new part of the forest, having wound her way through the trees, in search of her father.

    Following the wake of his magic, she smirks cooly when she sees the element of his handiwork. Flashy, showy. Just like him. The air of intimidation waxed poetically with every drop of sludge that dripped on the ground at her feet. This wall poses no threat, however. She has the power to decompose… She has the will to undermine her father’s authority.

    She grinds her teeth—just like her Grandmere told her never to do, remember you are a lady of the Cove— and sets to work, her father’s magic in her veins tearing away at the bramble. Her ability to rot life puts her through quickly enough. With a smirk and a grunt, she kicks back at the wall rebelliously, righting her posture, always pristine, always perfect.

    Just like she was supposed to be.
    That feeling of eeriness rises over her nape again, and she flicks her ears with quick anticipation. White like ash, red eyes like fire. Beautiful and broken… anyone could tell from a mile away that this man was mad.

    She liked mad.

    But she says nothing, silently urging him to follow her instead, daring him to do so. Baiting him like a venus flytrap.

    It would be too late for him.
    yippee kiyay ahh yea, bout to set it off
    HTML by Call
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