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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


    show your teeth [any]
    #1
    kseizna
    There is no place in this world for the weak.

    That is a lesson Kseizna has learned many times, and it has only served to remind her - time and time again - of the circumstances that had befallen her. The same circumstances that led her here, an unwilling stranger dropped into a sea of new faces. Being a stranger wasn't new to her - but she had forgotten what it was like to not know anyone around her.

    Alas, when Ismene was slaughtered at the crown torn from her head, it had served as the final nail in the coffin of Kseizna's fate. A fate she had, long ago, resigned herself to with quiet dignity. But life had strange ways of becoming upturned, whether through design or deliberate intervention, and so it happened that she was here.

    With the forest at her back and a sea of green in front of her, Kseizna knows there is nothing holding her back. The adrenaline singing through her veins sends a tingle down her spine, a deep shiver that quakes her delicate muscles. Like a serpent, she slithers through the trees, a cold-blooded queen on the hunt for her next meal. And it had been far too long since she had indulged.

    Indeed, if there was an adequate word to describe Kseizna, it was gluttonous. She feels nothing for no one, her only purpose to conquer and consume - power, riches, sex, it is hers for the taking, and taking is what she is best at.

    The serpent-woman smiles at this thought as she pauses, frigid eyes peering out over the meadow laden with bodies and ripe for the picking. The familiar scent of pine and sap fills her nose, and with it comes a twisted sense of nostalgia; a longing for a home that she knows she cannot go back to. But with it, there is a spark of determination, a steely resolve backed by a razor-sharp tongue and a sharp mind. Yes, she thinks, I will do well here.

    ((ooc: i'm still getting a feel for her.))

    html by dante! photo by @gn
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    #2
    Alivia
    got a chick i call her lola, she feel like the ocean
    Beqanna is familiar as ever for the indigo mare. She knows the way the land reveals it's secrets to her though gentle curls and coves and navigates easily despite the moisture of a warm summer's morning. The blue mare presses her lips together as she pauses during her walk to look across the meadow at a few horses grazing through the tall green grasses.

    Blue eyes take in the great grass sea and the meadow inhabitants. A few figures float in and out and Liv acknowledges them with eye contact and nothing more till she sees another woman nearing her. Delightfully spotted and polished in a fine manner, Alivia does the polite thing and nods towards the other woman. "Beautiful day." The remark comes out coolly but not in an offensive manner just a more matter-of-fact way. She tosses the length of her darker dipped tail over the roll of her hips casually as her eyes flick away and shifting her weight from one side to the other.
    HTML by Call
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    #3
    bristol
    the past tense of regret is indecision
    wing appearance: dragonfly wings
    The young mare knows she should go to Ischia and find her father. She was supposed to join him there a while ago, and she is sure he is worried. Brennen is, after all, a champion worrier; especially since she is the youngest of his flock currently still ‘in the nest’, so to speak. But Bristol isn’t quite ready to settle down and work – and she knows that is what must await her in a newly forming Kingdom.

    No – let her champion of a father do the settling down and the preliminary work – Bristol will make an appearance when she is sure that he will not up and decide to move them elsewhere. In the meantime, she flits across the sky on iridescent dragonfly wings, looking for something interesting to do. She spirals into a landing, tight little circles bringing her to the ground almost straight down. She has taken great joy in learning about the different wings and the ways they can work for her, and she loves the dragonfly for its ability to zip back, forth, up, and down. Maneuverability to the extreme – though it is exhausting. She’d traveled with the made-for-soaring bird wings she’d been born with, and only switched out right before she got to the meadow.

    And, well, the dragonfly wings are prettier. More striking.

    Letting the shimmering appendages fall still and quiet along her back, Bristol looks around. The two mares are close, and the first thing she lays her amber gaze upon, and she thinks, good enough. Turning on her haunches to face them she takes a couple steps forward, looking first at the dark mare and then the blue one, offering a bright smile. “Hello,” she greets the pair, halting her slim body so as to form the third point of a triangle. “It is quite nice today. I’m Bristol.”
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