• 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


    [mature]  bridges bend and twist around; any
    #1
    IT SAYS MATURE BECAUSE WRENA IS A POTTY MOUTH.
    Nothing sexual XD


    City has left her eldest daughter in command of her youngest. One is a fragile looking thinker with long, elegant powdered moth-wings and a pointed face that hides a peculiar proboscis that somehow fits her other odd features. She’s a fair fifteen hands and some, sure to be a healthy fifteen two or three at full height in a few years. Her legs are sturdy and long, feathered in sensitive hairs disguised as the typical part-draft hairy leg action. For the most part she seems pretty horse-like, even with her slightly parroted mouth and extra-long tufts bending at the tips of her cupped ears. Her wings do not stay at their full width at all times like a natural moth, but fold and tuck against her body; think grasshopper, after they fly their wings flatten afterwards. The moth-mare’s sister is only just passing fourteen hands and some, but she will soon be several inches bigger than Oleandar. Wrena, a little dragonwinged bay, was born the following spring and so she is just now starting to grow into her knobby legs and long elegant neck.  She is certainly shaped differently than her sister, both tall and lithe but the dragon-child lighter in her bones, sharper in her features. Olea’s pupiless eyes sparkle a brilliant green that fades from pastel to emerald depending on the moonlight and Wrena’s are a burning orange, like the lick of a dancing flame.

    The pair walks to the beach once the snowy night gives way to a foggy, rainy morning. All is so quiet aside from the rolling waves and tinkling raindrops, and of the patter of their delicate feet. Their mother is long gone on a journey out to the field, a thing all three are used to by now. Both daughters like to explore the beaches, caves and tide pools. Olea has always preferred to follow her mother around – it isn’t dissimilar to the quiet, but very attached relationship her mother and grandmother once had. Wrena, however, has never much cared since her weaning. She can easily be alone or meandering on the outskirts of her mother and sister’s paths… Today though, she’s decided to not dodge her sister’s orders and stay within sight as they visited the chilly shores this morning.

    This last for about a minute…

    WRENA!” Olea’s voice calls out partly in a growl. Wrena does not answer. She has let herself be swallowed by the fog and scuttles along the shore and up a cliff side of tumbling stones. Oleandar hears the clatter of stones crackling down the slope, groaning she bursts into a short stride canter. “What are you doing!? I hope you fall!” She skids to a stop in the soft wet sands, the fog and rain mixing into a thick mist but the mother-mare’s keen eyes can see her sister’s dark body gracefully picking its way up a steep rockface.

    Stop. I need practice flying, it’s not even that high – seriously shut the fuck up Olea.” She growls back but does not bother to look. As if by sweet karma the bay sister slips and almost falls, her impressively big wings of smooth onyx scales parachute outward to balance her as she hoists herself onto a lip of jagged ledge. Olea stands scowling at the bottom, secretly praying her sister indeed uses those stupid ugly wings of hers correctly and doesn’t break her dumb neck.

    You’re the worst.” Olea’s soft voice resonates through the open air as she watches with disapproval. It is all very uneventful, really. Wrena dives from the rocky lip with pin wings just to give her sister heart palpitations before unfurling her wings and slowing to land ever so tenderly in the shallow lapping waves. “You’re a complete ninny.” Olea can do nothing but reach and bite her bratty little sister. “OW! You dirty sow!” Wrena snaps back but gets nothing – Oleandar is already airborn and cackling victoriously. “Let’s see you fly then, little sister.” She teases as she swoops down, sending the mists dancing and curling furiously in her wake. And to the air Wrena takes to shakily chase after her pale, vibrant winged sister. They stay low, enjoying the obstacles of fog and stone, and occasionally splashing into the cresting waves of the sea  that meets the sands below.




    Oleandar
    the moth-child of elysium & city



    tldr; oleandar and wrena are flying around on the rainy, chilly shores of Nerine. i've always picture Nerine a lot like Cornwall (England) which sees more rain than snow in the winter months and doesn't get below 40F. if this isn't okay to assume than just ignore those bits, but anyway, they are flying around chasing each other...feel free to do whateva <33
    #2

    tantalize

    I will try to hold you up

    Through those times you are gone

    You won’t do this alone


    The jaguar mare stands on the edge of one of the sandy cliffs, watching the tumultuous ocean as it crashes against the rocky crags below. The rain doesn’t seem to bother her even as it makes the dark feathers at her side heavy, stains her mahogany coat and plasters raven locks to her forehead. She is quiet and reflective, golden eyes narrowed on the growing waves before her. Feeling much like the dark waters these days, unsure and restless.

    A cry below reaches the smooth curves of her ears, they swivel forward as her attention is caught and she looks downward. An interesting filly is climbing the rocks as a voice calls out to her in the fog. Amber iris’s palpate and narrow as she watches the skinny foal clamber on dangerous rocks, using her oddly shaped wings as extra balance. Nostrils flare slightly as she hesitates from her perch above, unsure if she should intervene. It seems she’s been doing a lot of that lately and she’s not sure being a savior suits her.

    The child’s companion finally appears, even odder than the foal. Emerald eyes that are far larger than a horse’s should be, lacking pupils. Tufts of strange hair sprouting from the tops of her ears, the strange moth like wings attached to her back. Who is she to judge, with the dappling spots of an Amazon cat splattered to her neck and legs. Besides there had been stranger things in these lands…

    The two banter back and forth and a thin line forms on her dark lips. Ah, siblings she assumes. There’s a sudden surprising ache in her chest. She had half siblings spread throughout BQ but none that she had ever been truly close with. Then there were her own three daughters, two she had tried with. The third a haunting reminder of her pain. She had failed all of them. A little lightbulb resonates within her brain, perhaps she had been stepping in so often because she wanted to badly to make up for everything she had done, everyone she had failed.

    The thin line tugs down into a small frown, a rare pain reflected in the pools of gold as she watches the two take flight over the stormy sea. It’s not the safest time or place to be practicing flight so she watches just in case. Her own damp wings unfurl at her side as she steps off the cliff and takes flight. Gliding down the stone walls until she lifts up just enough to crash to the sand, landing lightly upon it instead. They may not have noticed her arrival and that’s fine too, content to simply watch their joy for now.
    #3
    Notice her, they did not, but after their games they descended, giggling and damp with rain and clinging mist. Wrena is the first to set her small feet into the shifting sand and shortly behind her came her pale golden sister. “Oh,” the skinny bay chirps with surprise and calmly folds her obsidian scaled wings against her rusty-red ribcage. “Hey.” The youngest sister offers a smile, hesitant but kind still.  Oleandar slides to stand beside her sister, her wings neatly hidden and their tails wiggling in the breeze behind her.

    Hello to you.” Oleandar’s smile is more practiced and comfortable upon her pearly pink lips as she approaches. “I am Oleandar, and this is my sister, Wrena.” She turns to her sister and they both nod to one another before Olea’s eyes drift back to the dappled mare. “Are you from here?” She looks around, up and down and to the sea. “It is a peace you can find nowhere else, certainly.

    Wrena looks on with curiosity and a little bit of anxiety. Oleandar is more social than both her mother and sister – her mother, according to her, is a vicious recluse and Wrena simply cares not for anyone she does not already know.. Olea is naturally diplomatic, courteous and cunning.

    ----
    #4

    tantalize

    I will try to hold you up

    Through those times you are gone

    You won’t do this alone


    They land rather quickly and she inhales wearily, joy never lasts for long. It’s an icy reminder, as cold as the wet rain that soaks her coat or the briny mist that’s cast from the ocean as it crashes to the shore. They are hesitant of her, wary even. She supposes it’s the jaguar spots that line her dark skin. Common in the jungle but not so much against the coast.

    Her ghost of a smile briefly graces her own velvet lips but the warmth remains in her golden eyes. ”I’m Tantalize. Sisters.. Yes?” She asks pleasantly, not meaning them harm and hoping it puts them at ease.  She noticed how the older of the two takes the lead, the younger looking anxiously at her. ”I live here yes but I’m not from Nerine.” Shifting slightly, that irritating pang of sadness when she thinks of the jungles. Of the Amazons. She assumes it’s something she will never quite get over.

    ”I didn’t mean to disturb your flight. My apologies if I did.”




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)