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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


    it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased || any
    #1
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    Down, down, down into the depths.

    Ischia is known for its clear and pristine waters, calm tides and gentle seas - but few venture beyond the vividly colored corals, beyond the tropical fish and their multi-colored homes, past the mild sea turtles and delicate shelled crabs that click tidily across the white, sandy bottom. Beyond the lagoon lurks something dangerous, something darker, something foreboding. The coral drops off and gives way into emptiness, the depths appearing never-ending when glancing over the edge. But there is an end, and he is there, drawn to the bottom of the sea, where blackness takes hold and tightens around him, where silence is truly silent, and where his collection awaits him. They are bones now, mostly - the fish with haunting and empty eyes have picked clean their corpses, leaving only piles of dusted bones in the muck. They are bottom-dwellers such as he, and the anglers periodically light up in the darkness, accustomed to his presence within their hauntingly still home.

    Perhaps Ischia had been his home for a few fleeting moments - but now he no longer keeps residence there beyond the pretty little lagoon, where darkness of the depths rises to meet him. He doesn’t have a home, not in the typical sense of the word. No, his home is where the water takes him, whether it’s through it’s coursing rivers or its tempestuous seas, or even stagnant lakes with unmoving currents. That is where he belongs.

    There is no wind to rustle the branches of the trees that protrude out over the river, a somber silence filling the early morning. A mist, hauntingly white and thick, slowly moves in, shrouding the many rocks that line the river with its vaporous cloak. The sunlight begins to spill through the dense canopy of trees, mostly a mixture of thick spruces or thin, spindly branches of birch. The leaves had hardly begun to change their colors, but the bite that the air brings seems to make the trees shiver in anticipation. The morning mist continues to grow and swirl, the steam and spray from the rushing river mingling with the evaporation. The sunlight is not strong enough to begin to burn away at the fog, as it would in the warmer seasons. It continues to hover over the bank and its whispering waters, as if drawn to the rumble and boil of the gentle rapids.

    A hunger gleams in his eyes, a hunger that has still gone unquenched, unsatisfied. It lingers within the abyss of his darkened eyes, forever flickering beneath the blackness. Forever a predator, constantly ravenous for power and control, to succumb his prey beneath a watery grave. Within him, it simmers and churns, meticulously lying in wait in the dark depths of his soul. Hours before, in the dim light of the sun’s first light, where even the crickets have stopped chirping, an evergreen and pearl stallion stands upstream, staring down at the frothing and hissing water. His large, dark eyes bore down into the clear and crisp water as if he is under a spell, ears listening to the murmurs and hushed voices that call to him from the water’s depths. The river croons to him, the gentle pull of its current tugging encouragingly at his fetlocks, beckoning him to join in its treacherous path as it winds downstream.

    Something catches his attention within the darkening woods behind him, lifting his head quickly with a sharp snort and flicker of his ears onto his neck. He says nothing, but scours the darkness with a snarl on his pale lips.
    m a u g r i m.


    This is for anyone who is wanting to cause chaos in Beqanna! Play nice. <3
    Reply
    #2
    DESPAYR
    At Night She Walks the Beaches...
    It has been nearly a decade since the sea foam splashed mare had returned to land.  From the moment her magic had been returned to her, she abandoned her last child onto the beaches of Nerine and turned towards the depths of the turbulent seas.  This was her preferred form, a slick skinned porpoise.  Carelessly skimming through the ocean waves and teaming up with her pod to challenge the greatest of ocean creatures, the shark.

    Eventually though she grew curious of what had become of her children, her brother and lover.  Had he concqured Beqanna as he had threatened so long ago?  Had their children fallen victim to his wrath?  She assumed as much but curiousity is what drags her from the open seas and into the inlet of the river.  The mixture of fresh and salt waters hardly phase her and as the stream shallows she is forced to shit into a form she hardly knows anymore.  Each step of the thin pillars of bone creak and waver under the bulk of her weight.  Swimming was so much more effortless.  The discomfort causes a scowl to creep along her face as she climbs the bank and cloaks herself in the forests shadows.

    Her mismatched eyes of earth and water gaze cautiously around her.  There was no telling when her brother may catch wind of her return and hunt her down.  With his transparent trickery, he could sneak up behind her with ease.  Nares flare to draw in the scents of other near and far.  Tasting for a hint of familiarity.  She finds nothing and is momentarily satisfied that Waylan is long gone.  Good riddance.

    With another sweep of her eyes, she steps forwards.  A crack of twig echoes within the dense forests and it is quickly followed by a snarl.  Blue-tinted ears twist to locate the source of discontent.  Finding a dark and light figure wading in the shallows.  The creatures deep greens blended perfectly with the terrain beside him.  With her sights fixed on the stallion, she emerged from the brush.  The light and dark contrasts of her own body similar to his.  Vines of ocean weed tangled within her dark tail whip at her sides in near agitation.  Ears flat against her skull as she approaches hesitantly.  Maybe this stranger would have answers she seeked, or perhaps he held something much more to be desired.

    "Tell me stranger, who's kingdom is this?" Having been gone for such an extensive length of time, she knows little about a world she once inhabited... 
    artsfon stock photos



    @[Maugrim] so maybe they can cause a bit of trouble together and maybe a possible death in the future Wink
    Reply
    #3

    It is too much for a three year old to carry nine years of memories and emotions with her. They had come out of nowhere, and hit her hard. Jinju does not only know that she had loved – still loved? – Terran, but she remembers their love too. Passionate and fierce, heated gazes and fleeting touches. But to Jinju these memories are not her own. She remembers memories that belong to someone else. Someone not her. Even though it is her at the same time.

    She cannot handle it. Doesn’t know how to handle it. And thus she flees from it. Flees from Terran, and Ander, and Titanya, and Taiga.

    Oh yes, she remembers everything now. How Gryffen had come and how her father had tried to fight for Taiga’s sake, and then how the fairies had punished them, and burned down and ruined their beloved home. They’d taken almost everything she loved, and Jinju hates them for it. All of them. Gryffen, the fairies, and even Ruan to some degree. If he had tried to deal with the matter in a more peaceful way... Maybe Taiga wouldn’t have had to pay for it.

    During the past three years the forest had started to mend and regrow. New trees replace the old, but none of them challenge the old redwood trees height. Nor their width. But it is not the same Taiga. It’s spice still clings to her scent, but as of now that’s all that is left of Taiga in and on her. Jinju has fled to the forest – and through the forest to the river – without thinking twice. She had always felt more comfortable in forested areas, and at least these common places hadn’t changed.

    As Jinju nears her favorite spot at the riverbank, she finds herself approaching two other equine. One white and green – fucking green – and the other black as her own coat. Ruby orbs take them both in, a long and hard stare, but then she moves to the water, her thirst winning it over her curiousity.

    Like that it is easy to catch the blue eyed black mare’s question. With the droplets still rolling down from her lips, her ruby orbs find the pair again. ”No ones. The river belongs to any and all.”

    Jinju

    “My sun is set to rise again.”

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