• 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


    Under the shady oak tree [Isobell/City/Any]
    #1
    sweet as sugar, hard as ice.
    if you hurt me once, i'll kill you twice.

    Time once more slips away from her. The Amazon’s rocky start had quickly devolved into a power-hungry bicker fest. Not something that she took interest in; when on the mountain she had declared that her intent was to make things better. However, when fear and panic control the mares, swaying them from their path is impossible. Thus, she steps away, falling into that blissful repose until such a time as they would be settle their spirits and act. They needed to be willing to make the Amazon’s a name to be feared and loved once more. In the past, they had been a banner for oppressed females, a haven for foals, and a place that males were not pressured to be the stereotypical macho man. Now? What were they? All she could see was bitterness; maybe she was wrong, maybe the Amazon females had simply softened their touch. If that was so, then they were just pathetic in her eyes.

    All the confusion washes away as she reposes. Listening, waiting, and finally something stirs. Something old and deep; almost gone, just barely a whisper, wake. The breeze tickled her ears, the salty air filling her nostrils. Lids crack open, crusty and blurry with lack of use. It takes a moment, or longer for the pain to settle. Fucking sun , she grumbles as she squints to establish her bearings. The cliff, not two feet away, stands sharp and condescending over the ocean; a bulwark against the winds and waves vicious attacks. The black sand glistens wet in the morning light. Grudgingly she must admit it’s a beautiful place the Fairies gifted them. A far cry from the forest that she grew up in, but still its own little nuances have a certain appeal. Birds screech in the sky, calling to each other. Her ears swivel back and her tail whips the sand in irritation. Apparently recovering from death doesn’t happen overnight. If there is anything she would miss from that place, it would be the quiet. In her ghostly form, it was as if something buffered all the sounds from this world, the colors dulled, and scents were non-existent. She couldn’t drink or eat anything to discover flavor, nor could she feel anything either. She existed, yet did not.

    With a shake of her mane she clambers to her feet. ‘Enough of that’, her inner voice chides. Blinking away the last of the blur. How long had she been away? How many queens had traded the throne in her absence? The land is no longer new, that much is for certain. Trails, and well-worn paths crisscross the cliff and the channel to the mainland, if that was any indication. She eyes the trial thoughtfully, half tempted to follow it. But the new sound quickly snatches her attention away, along with its scent.
    Hestia

    @[Isobell]
    @[City]
    anyone else is welcome to join.
    [Image: 345k45w.jpg]
    #2
    Isobell
    i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
    She is newly appointed by Nayl to fill her place and to build Nerine against the darkness that night brings and the unholy sins that Sylva threatened to spill into Beqanna. Isobell carries no quarrel her mother has but she is quite aware of the activities that shift and move like worms under a moist rock.

    The sky shines bright on the spring day. Isobell moves beneath the glare with shimmering scales of moonstone and shiny onyx. She had begun to settle into this her body. Ivar had spun his craft, conjured up old drowned gods or something, to have wrought her sleek form in the kelpie curse. But he has slipped from her mind now as he had slipped into the waves sot long ago.

    She had Nerine to worry about after all.

    A dark woman moves over the creases and folds of Nerine with a skilled hoof but a rather cantankerous air. The pied mare believes she may be familiar with the lay of the salty land thought Isobell cannot recall the mare's name. The kelpie queen observes the other momentarily before a short call is uttered from her dark lips once she realizes the other has noticed her presence not far off. "Hello, welcome to Nerine." The words are cool and flat like a river stone though Isobell had meant for them to be more inviting. She does not offer warmth but a small curl of her lips and a nod. Isobell would bring Nerine to the glory that Nayl had fought for. "Welcome, sister, to Nerine." 'Sister?' Isobell did not have any sisters nor had she thought of any as before but now, on this day of her crown ship, Nerine was determined to be Amazonian once again and it would all start with (hopefully) a conversation with the green-eyed mare.
    #3
    sweet as sugar, hard as ice.
    if you hurt me once, i'll kill you twice.

    Nothing could be closer to the truth, cantankerous indeed. She is a bitter old woman, and rough on the edges. Although, no one can accuse her of being weak, or not caring; and even as they try, they cannot accuse of her of being disloyal. Because the purpose that drives her still burns deep in her soul. Sure her lack of patience and worse, her stubbornness may rub many the wrong way, but that doesn’t mean she is incapable of understanding. She will never be perfect, her faults are obvious ones, her qualities less so; but her vision is the same that many have held onto in the past. It’s never been just about herself, but about those she would call family.

    Some like to spit on her name, and say that she is a traitor. How can you call an immortal a traitor though? She grew up in the Valley, a diplomatic pawn of the Amazons, she came back to the sisterhood regardless, leaving everyone she called family behind. Her spirit though, it longed to wander and explore, to experience everything there was to offer. Two or was it four generations later? She can’t remember, details, she finally decided to fulfill her longing. When she did, the sisters rejected her, but how could they turn their backs to her like that? Could someone really expect an immortal to stay in one place forever? Besides, they were no longer her sisters. Most of them she couldn’t recognize even if they told her their names. After all she had sacrificed for them, did they really have good reason to judge her?

    For some reason though, she had to go back to them. As she does the world changes, becoming new. The sisterhood had fallen apart back when she first left them, and the brokenness hadn’t been repaired. Now she needed to find out if they were ready to repair that brokenness, or if she should once again slumber until the day they were? Green flashes sharp towards the voice. She’s about to snap a snide reply when a word tickles her ears. A word she hasn’t heard in a very long time. It takes the words from her, and she turns to face the greeter silently. The sounds of the sea beating out it’s rhythm. Sister, her voice cracks over the word, greeting the woman in return. She pauses, where to start; questions flood through her mind. How long? Slowly the sleep falls from her voice bringing it to the breathy softness she is used to.

    Her tail flicks as she steps closer to the mare, eyeing her over. Though quite a bit smaller and younger than herself; there is something about the female that pricks her interest. Then there are the scales brilliantly flashing in the light, they look as dark as her own coat. The luster in them however speaks of youth and vitality, something that she knows is only temporary for herself now. She can already see the gleam in her own coat fading, and the tight skin beginning to sag. It isn’t too bad, she probably looks about 8-10 years, just passing her prime. It’s a bittersweet sensation. To know that there is a clock on the time one is allowed, but another part of her worries. She doesn’t have forever to wait for the women to fix their brokenness anymore; she has years, and she is sure that it will take all of it to reestablish what had been lost. If not longer; and that is only if she can convince others to join with her to bring back what had been lost.
    Hestia




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)