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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


    [private]  your mess is mine - warrick
    #1

    Tangerine

    In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep


    When she had found him in Tephra she had come to say goodbye, for a time, until she could find herself again. But Warrick had not allowed her to say the words, and he had saved her heart from the torment of another goodbye. She had not argued, of course, and Tang had allowed the father of her children to hold her in her most vulnerable moment, raw and fragile as she had never been before.

    She had poured her soul out to him during the following journey, her story of Carnages torture spilling out in a flood of emotions. And he had been so patient, soothing her in ways that only someone who has also known deep sorrow could. 

    She had never loved another soul more. She had never been more grateful.

    After weeks of traveling, they had reached her homeland, far removed from the magic of Beqanna. The rolling plains and nomadic people had welcomed them warmly, her mane had grown thick to cascade over the spiral scar that only Warrick (and Carnage) knew was there, to conceal the trauma of something that was a now a distant memory from another life. 

    In the beginning, he had been hesitant, like his first kisses on her golden skin so many years ago. But he soon seemed to feel at home among the free-folk. She gave him time, they were in no rush and it wasn't long before he felt the stirring of her people's music in his bones.  

    Her lover had summoned thunder with his hoves, joining the ancestral dance of celebration - filling the space at her side she had left vacant just for this occasion. It was a dance she had danced hundreds of time before but never had she danced with such joy as she did that night. Tangerine had lost apart of herself on the night of the Longdance, but she knew that part could not have a better keeper.

    She didn't know how much time had passed, they had simply lived - and her sleep had been beautifully dreamless. 

    Eventually, the time came for Warrick to return to their children. With sadness she bid him goodbye, placing a small orange feather behind one ear and a promise that she would return to him soon.

    After months of interrupted restoration and repose the whispers, the memories of the future, had returned. She woke in the night, a dream as thick as poison fog around her, hot tears now frozen on her cheeks. Her sleep had grown fitful as their time apart stretched longer and the world he inhabited became more clear than her own.The creme and honey mare knows it is time for her to journey again and northern wind swept her back to the land of her children, born and unborn.

    She does not resist.
    She had already seen this anyway.

    In sleep, the Goddess whispers the future to her mare - in sleep Tang is again Divine. 

    She watched his travels, his coronation, she watched as the intimate moments of his life were shoved before her third eye, unbidden. She dreamed of those who would be drawn to his crown like vultures to carrion, of those who would sooth the darkness he tried to hide.

    --

    Tangerine enters Tephra under the new moon. She doesn't call for Warrick, she silently makes her way to their place. Anticipation builds in her belly as she catches his scent, not fresh but simply lingering on the plants and in the earth, stirred up by her churning hooves. The warm glow from the volcano guides her and she finds the entrance to the grotto with ease. Her lover's scent lingers on the stone walls, washing over her, and Tang can't help but feel a sense of relief. With reverence, the painted mare enters into the belly of the volcano, following the well-used path until he stands in front of the mirror-still pool at the end the trail. 

    "Warrick!" she inhales his name, as his face appears on the surface of the pool below her. But nearly as soon as the vision appears she tears her honey gaze away from the water to look down the path she had just traveled.


    @[Warrick]
     IM SO HAPPY
    also, i was going to sleep on this to make sure i like it... but now i just want to post it because im so excited to be writing Tang again :|
    #2
    like the sun swallowed up by the earth
    He wonders if she dreams of him, the way he dreams of her.

    Sleep rarely finds him, and when it does, it is fitful and fleeting - a few hours rest, maybe. He hadn’t slept soundly since he had laid down in the open plains with her, beneath millions of stars and unfiltered moonlight, without the hazy smoke of the volcano he knows so well. On nights like this one, where he wants nothing more than to rest his weary body but his mind will not allow it, he will come to the grotto to stand within its humid moisture and still waters, warmed by the belly of the volcano closely on the other side.

    Tonight, as his navy wings fold tightly into his sides so that he may squeeze down the worn path that he follows blindly, a scent that is not at all expected drifts to him, and his slow walk hesitates momentarily.

    It is a dream - he must be sleeping, for there is no way it could be (but of course it is). Warrick begins to move again, his nostrils flaring as he brushes his lips against the warm stone hearth, fresh with her scent. Not only does his heart call out to her, but his soul as well, but he still continues to move slowly and with deliberate purpose, afraid that his mind is playing tricks on him and that he would come into the grotto and find only emptiness, like he has found every night for many, many moons.

    She is staring into the depths of the still waters, a familiar figure of gold and black and white, when the path opens up. He stands for a moment, his breath caught in his throat, sure that the image of her will waver and fade away, melting into nothingness to leave him once more. His chest tightens at the sight of her, and somehow he is able to remain silent even though his mind is screaming for him to move towards her, to close the space between them and to never part from her.

    A few moments pass and when her figure remains solid, he moves slowly towards her, his dark hooves clicking on the smooth stone of the grotto. She must have heard him, or seen his reflection in the brilliant pool, for she breathes his name and turns to look at him, delight in her eyes.

    Finally, the winged-stallion is at peace once again.

    He is near her at once, at her side with a deep nicker rumbling in his throat. He’s running his muzzle along her shoulder and neck, huffing gently and deliberately as he inhales the smell of her, leaving tender kisses on her ivory and honey-gold skin, while the darkness of her mane falls across his face. His wings flutter at his sides, smooth velvet against her as one stretches to drape over her back, bending around her to pull himself closer to her, their sides coming together in a perfect fit.

    “Tangerine,” he says breathlessly, inhaling the scent of the wildness of the plains that still clings to her, tracing the soft slope of her cheek with cobalt lips before pressing into her muzzle with a loving, strong kiss. He knows she will always return, but each time she does, it is as if he will never see her again. “I am whole again,” his voice quivers, auburn lids closing over tired eyes, feeling as though sleep would finally come to him, but too exhilarated by her presence to allow it just yet.

    The crown, his people, the country of Tephra - all of it fades away and he is left only with thoughts of her, and their children, as the warmth of the volcano pulsates against them.
    Warrick


    @[Tangerine]
    omggggg <3333
    #3

    Tangerine

    In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep


    He is there, here, now with her.

    The vision gives way to her flesh and blood lover, and the joy which she feels in unreal. Warm breath and solid flesh replace the specter which has haunted the seer, her heart made whole stands before her - more than a dream. No longer is she standing back, overlooking his world with the fog of time and space between them. His and her world are the same, and it with an overwhelming sense of gratitude which the golden mare presses herself to him, feeling the reverberation of his satisfaction deep within his broad chest.

    Dark wings envelop her, feathers delicately brushing along her topline before they cloak her golden sides - provoking the flame which already burns hot in her belly. 

    Her lover breathes "Tangerine" and nothing more, his lips are busy as are hers. With strength and confidence, he presses a kiss into the soft corner of her mouth which nourishes her soul. She tastes the auburn skin, warmed by the false-summer of his home, warmed from the inside out by that which brings them together once again. She explores his curves and lines with urgency, lipping along the crest of his proud neck, the shoulder, the soft place where the two meet above the swells of his chest. These lips lingering in the places which respond to her searching touch. 

    But soon their face are drawn together again as he leaves a trail of electricity across the painted lines of her face, and it is a sigh which she leans her crown against his ruddy cheek. 

    "Warrick," pale lips are drawn to the place where the warm tones meet cool, into the corner of his mouth she whispers his name with all the weight of one hundred lonely nights behind it. "Warrick," she murmurs again because it felt right the first time, and she was never one to leave an option unexplored.

    "I am whole again," he says, and the tears which dance in her amber eyes are of the purest kind. Tangerines words of love and gratitude become lodged behind the lump in her throat; for all her foresight he could still surprise her.

    "I can never stay away..." Tangerine finally says as she falls into the brilliant blue of his eyes. She can feel her world shifting below her as the magic Beqanna had given her begins to work again. But she doesn't want to dream now, she wants to stay in this moment forever. She blinks hard to clear her mind of the vision which threatens to remove her from the present, even as figures begin to materialize in the depts of his eyes. 

    Again she presses her muzzle to his, her lids firmly closing over the vision which tries to ruin their sacred time. The warmth of his body and the comfort of his strong side supporting her drives away the premonitions. She is fully present, fully his, for the first time in far too long.

    "... because I love you."
    More than I have ever loved before. 



    @[Warrick]  Heart
    #4
    like the sun swallowed up by the earth
    His auburn skin shivers with delight at every touch of her pale, warm lips against him - many night he had dreamed of her (though not like her visions - his dreams are muddy and hazy, and barely he remembers them once he awakens, save for the feeling it leaves him when he opens his eyes). And now she is here, like she always says she will be, as unwavering as the stillness of the heated spring below them, his light within the darkness, his beacon when all else fails him. She speaks his name and he unravels, his memories taking him back to their nights in the plains beneath the fire-lit sky, starlight and moonlight beaming down upon their bodies as they had danced together, two souls intertwined within the darkness and shadow of the world. Beneath the weight of the crown, he had often reminisced of the simple days and nights spent with her ancestors, and the memory would soothe the aching of his soul, a salve upon the unrest within his heart.

    Though only a few months have gone by since their goodbyes in the grassland, so much has happened in between - he hadn’t thought that Tangerine would have a third eye on his life, for he knows not how her precognition works exactly besides it always being extremely accurate. The winged man has been tempted and tested, baited with the desires of the flesh (his mind had been on Wound, the delicate woman with a sad smile, who Warrick felt as if he needed to protect and guide her, to have her blossom beneath the Tephran sun). The battle between his gentle spirit and the way he is expected to rule Tephra with an iron fist, to protect and serve, to harbor those within the borders and to remain just. He had felt himself starting to slip away, thread by thread, especially when Ellyse announced her and Dahmer’s move into the great Sylvan forest, leaving him feeling weak and vulnerable beneath the volcano’s steady gaze. But with Tangerine by his side, all worries and travesties melt away and there is only her, only them, and everything in the world is now set right.

    ‘I can never stay away…’

    He knows this is true, because every time they are apart she finds her way back to him, her soul calling to his, and his to hers, the other not truly whole without the other. With a deep huff from his nostrils he breathes into her mane, happiness alighting in the great blueness of his gaze, his muzzle still unable to part from the honey-gold and alabaster of her curved neck.

    ‘...because I love you.’

    The words spoken alone do not shock him (because of course she does, he hadn’t doubted it for a second, and he knows that she knows his love for her knows no end), but hearing them on her lips, hanging delicately in the humidity caused by the underwater spring and their beating hearts, he sighs deeply with contentment. “I love you, Tangerine.” More than the crown, more than Tephra, more than anything. His confession is robust in his throat and chest, deep with passion and longing. There is a burning desire, a need stirring deep within him that can only be brought by her alone, and he steps backward to follow the path of her spine with a warm and parted mouth, his great wing still fluttering tenderly along her back.

    She is as wayward as the wind and he is as sturdy as the volcano that rumbles above them, but she will always return and he will always be there to welcome her.

    Their reunion lasts well into the depths of twilight, their coupling bathed in the glow of the stars peeking through the tiny holes in the cavern, steam rising around them from the water as well as from their intermingling bodies.

    It is early morning, where dawn is not yet over the horizon, but Warrick wouldn’t have been able to tell because he is so engrossed in her. The darkness of his mane clings to the coiled muscle of his neck, his deep whispering and deliberate kisses finding her face as they lay beside each other, his heart returning to a steady beat at last.

    “My wild one,” he murmurs with adoration, lipping at the ivory and black of her mane behind her ears as his eyelids sleepily hang halfway over his burning blue gaze. “Things in Tephra have changed,” he muses quietly, relaxed and comfortable in her embrace. “How much have you seen?”
    Warrick


    @[Tangerine]  Heart  Heart
    #5

    Tangerine

    In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep


    The glow of dawn has found them, even in their secret place. As their love-making comes to an end, for now, the morning light serves Tangerine a reminder of where she is. Their days of care-free living on the plains were passed now, but their adventure would forever be the crown jewel of all her memories. Tephra would call Warrick away, now more than ever with a crown resting unseen (yet very much felt) between his ears. While this terrified her at first, the wild mare has come to peace with her lover's sense of duty, night and day they had always been, and she wouldn't trade their arrangement for anything now. 

    Tangerine has known Warrick long enough to know he was as set in his ways as the Volcano around them. His journey with her had been a tremendous sacrifice that she did not take lightly. The weightlessness she had felt among the free-folk had dissipated when she dreamed of Warrick's and Solace's fates, but there was an overwhelming comfort in being returned to his side for whatever the future may hold. For all her foresight, there was still much which evaded her sight.

    Lava, magma flow - even volcanos go through changes now and again. 

    Someday the crown would grow too heavy for him, and she would be there.
    Tang has grown older, wiser. The years have mellowed her, Carnage, her fall, and her climb have tempered her. She is still wild, but her wildness is smooth and rich like honey, sweet, with a hint of the pollen and spring breeze still tangible. But she is slower to move, earthy and grounded - the product of a labor of love, and necessity. 

    This is how she loves him, slow and deep - more. She is not the filly she once was, flitting from one kingdom to the next like the spring breeze. Impulse does not rule. She was the mother of three, the dreamer of fate and no longer undecided. She is not such a selfish creature as before. 

    How much have you seen?

    She had seen much, but not enough to know the whole story, but it did not weaken the unbreakable ties she felt to Warrick. Tangerine smiles, kindly, knowingly, hoping to ease the tension she can sense more than see pooling in the muscles of his neck. Nothing she has diluted the deep fillings the dancing stallion on the planes had stirred. "First I saw crowns, on your head and Solaces, both on the same night. That sight took away my sleep. I saw the burden you carry in a grey boulder saddled across your withers. " She presses her muzzle to that place, soothing the coiled muscles above his wings. "I saw your subjects like wild children around your heels, bickering and crying for milk, and the great sighs you heave because they will never be sated."

    Speaking of appetites, her smile turns coy, as her face comes up to his again and she gently nips along the lower line of his jaw. "And congratulations are due, you will be having another daughter come spring... and she isn't coming from this flat tummy." She adds with a flip of her tail around his hocks. 


    @[Warrick] sorry you had to wait so long for rambling XD
    #6
    like the sun swallowed up by the earth
    Her visions still mesmerize him - how clear and vivid they must be in her mind’s eye to show her his new role in Tephra, the going-ons of their children, and whatever else she may have missed in her absence. Crowns, of course. He is not expecting two, however, and he tilts his head slightly. “Solace?” he murmurs to himself incredulously - it is not a haughty notion for his daughter to move herself up in the world of Beqanna (he had expected her to, honestly), but hearing it fall from the lips of his children’s own mother, rattles him to the core with a swelling of pride and honor. A lazy and sleepy smile finds the navy of his mouth, resting there perfectly like it belongs. “My sweet Solace,” he repeats gently, unable to hide the adoration and affection that glistens in his eyes for his golden and alabaster daughter. Of course, Tangerine interpreted the vision of the crowns differently than Warrick would have, and describes the weight of it already on his shoulders and how it had marred her sleep, touching his withers with her pink lips. His eyes soften with concern and understanding, reaching towards her to gently groom a few of her dark strands of mane back into place, ending with a tender kiss on the slope of her neck.

    She does not see his duty as a good thing, but she is here beside him anyway, to love and support him, and he cannot ask her any more than that. It is all he needs to survive, and though his sense of duty and love for Tephra is grand, her love for him is what gives him his strength and courage. It always has.

    “When I am with you, the burden you have envisioned is as light as a feather,” he tells her in a sweet whisper, closing his eyes momentarily as he lets the rest of her words sink in, magical in their revelation as they leave her lips. Her vision of his subjects causes a humorous smile to tug onto his cobalt lips, a deep chuckle resounding in the crevices of his chest. The analogy is amusing because it rings with truth, though he does not mind being their caretaker and attempting to soothe their wails of hunger - he will protect and serve, as he as always sworn to do. “I have had plenty of practice dealing with the mewlings of babes, thanks to you. I think I’m rather good at it.” He laughs again, this time the sound leaving his throat and reverberating into the humid air around them, nipping playfully at her two-toned skin just as she lightly plucks at the sensitive skin of his jawline.

    And though the last of her vision does not surprise him, he had hoped she had not seen this part of his life. He tenses for a moment, unsure of what will come of the information, fear gripping his throat. But she is casual and light-hearted, her eyes glimmering with humor as her tail matter-of-factly flicks against his legs. He does not return her coyness, for he is embarrassed at the idea of her already knowing what has conspired between himself and Wound. He has not seen the gentle woman in a while, and though he had not known of her pregnancy, he is not surprised that their night beneath the stars resulted in her conception. His heart is light, however, despite the guilt that rests there along with it - Warrick has never turned away a child, and he is excited to know that another one of his own will join Tephra’s residents - a daughter, nonetheless.

    “Her name is Wound.” He pauses, lifting his eyes to her with a sparkle of delight yet with a glassy look of hesitancy. “You would like her.” She reminds me of you, he doesn’t say. Instead: “She’s a dreamer, like us.” He wonders if he needs to explain his affection for the woman, why his heart had been drawn to her despite his devotion and loyalty for Tangerine. He had never understood how Tangerine could love and care for both him and Amet years ago, but now, as he lies with her in their warm grotto, he feels as if he understands her more than ever.
    Warrick


    @[Tangerine]
    <3
    #7

    Tangerine

    In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep

     
    "Hmm," she agrees with a sleepy smile. The pride which fills him is apparent, and although Tang could never see the crown as a gift, as he does, she enjoys watching the surprise and delight animate his face. "She will do quite well of it because of you - would be my guess. You always were so good with them" she affirms, "Solace worships the ground you tread and Svedka admires you too." Despite the exhaustion which her body feels, she doesn't want to leave her lover for the solitude of her nightly travels, and she reaches for another thought to ward off the sleep. "Those two turned out alright, we should give it another go sometime," she laughs. 

    When Tangerine mentions Wishbone she is glad to see his embarrassment is fleeting, mellowing quickly into hesitancy, yet even that she would have banished. "Don't worry, love. My dreams have always been... abstract, " she reassures him. Her premonitions were swirling and interactions came across in symbolism, the future was read in raw emotions more than chronological actions. But she can sense his pride in this too, and she knows this is how it should be. "I'm sure I will." she nods. 

    Ungracefully, she yawns. "I've run a thousand miles to see you, you know.." and with her shoulder presses his the painted mare never finishes her sentence, sinking into her dreamscapes. But tonight she is not alone there. Warrick's warm scent and the love he has shown her break across the veil between the two worlds and she is not a spectator floating above his life - in these dreams, they are together again.





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