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    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


    Son of a Red-eyed Ghost [Diplomatic Visit]
    #1

    Son of a Red Eyed Ghost

    They had left Ivar that afternoon in Loess.  His daughter overjoyed at his acceptance of a task the king appointed him.  How quickly power shifted though in the lands as just before they depart it is announced a child, Ivars daughter, would inherit the throne.  

    The news was to be expected but that left Loess vulnerable to the other kingdoms.  He felt it was best he still act upon the king's request and travel to the farthest kingdom to ensure an alliance.  It may be vital in the future...

    The onyx and silver stallion bids farewell to his love and other daughter.  The two girls had grown so much and soon they would be wanting freedom.  He dreaded the very day he was no longer their rock.  Embark was such a beautiful and kind girl.  Deiti, more free spirited, so he worried more for the dark child.  Also, the child's birthday mother's warnings still hung heavy in his mind. Spawn of Satan, is what his sister Dynast had dubbed the child at birth.  Why, he had yet to come to know...

    There journey was long.  Their first day of travels brought them to the redwood forests.  There they rested.  When the sun had rose the next day, they set back out and my high sun they were looking across the channel that separated the kingdom islands from the main lands.  His nares flared as he drew in the sulfur air.  Thick locks of silver shielding the majority of his sights.  Quick flicks upward of his muzzle brought his forelock to again rest out of view.  His silver masked face dips to his daughter in slight concern.  This had been the first time she has been let near the ocean.  He decides perhaps it is best they do not cross, but call out to the residents of the small territory.  His crystalline eyes look to Deiti, who matches his gaze with a smile.  Clearing his voice he calls out an announcement of their arrival...

    "We will wait here until someone answers our call.  It is best when seeking favor with other kingdoms to not cross borders without permission.  We do not know if they are friendly or hostile towards strangers," his reasoning clear to the dark girl.  She simply nods in acknowledgement, blue eyes looking out across the waters.

    Imperial

    #2
    I
    t’s an exceptionally hot summer on Tephra. When Wound had first arrived on the shores of her home the weather had been humid but bearable — much like it is most seasons. The areas of the island more closely intertwined with the foothills of the volcano are often sweltering in comparison to the rest of the territory, which is still hot with lava streams winding between tropical foliage and grassy hills.

    Perhaps it’s just her post-pregnancy hormones causing her to think the temperatures are worse than they normally are.

    She’s enjoying a swim among the waves when a call rides on the salt-scented breeze. Although Wound will later regret the swim (the sand always makes her skin itch and crawl afterward, a side-effect from her family’s poor bloodline of impurities), the water feels delicious against her burning skin. Her silver-tipped ears twist toward the sound of the announcement and locates that it comes from the mainland.

    It’s not low tide when she makes her way across the channel. But the water is shallow enough that she can just barely catch the tips of her hooves on the ground when she needs an extra boost to help push her forward. Wound has grown relatively skilled at swimming (for a horse with a malformed front leg, that is) since coming to Tephra and so the swim across the channel is tiring but not impossible.

    Wound pulls herself from the waves and moves to greet the stallion and the young girl beside him. She makes sure to give herself a rough shake before fully approaching them, but droplets of salted water still drip off the ends of her tangled mane when she stops in front of them. “Excuse the water; at low tide the channel becomes a sandbank and it’s much easier to cross.” Wound’s mouth pulls into a friendly, deliciously sunny smile.

    “I’m Wound, and you’ve reached Tephra.” She eyes the pair of them for a minute while many scents flood her nostrils (forests and beaches and trails) but the most thickly-slathered is Loess. “Is there something I can help you two with?”
    credit to nat of adoxography.
    #3

    Son of a Red Eyed Ghost

    The view from their side of the channel is picturesque.  A horizon of tropical flora dotted the space surrounding a jagged uprise in land.  Trickling down from it's center crater was thin flows of molted rock.  A brilliant orange glow surrounded by cool, black stone.  Unbeknownst to them they are one and the same.  Having only known the kingdoms of the fallen Pangea and his residential kingdom of Loess, much of Beqanna remains a mystery to him.

    Turning to find a form lingering at the water edge, he watches curiously.  The stranger dips into the flow of water with flawless ease.  Just a bobber of head and occasional back are noteable now.  A charcoal ear flicks to his daughter that shifts at his side.  Anxious with excitement over fright, he is sure.  

    The stallions light, sapphire eyes follow the figure to their side of the lands.  Finding a pleasant demeanour in the approach of the Tephran.  Ears perked forward at her words shared.  Deiti turns to watch the unusual gate of the mare.  Finding the problems source as the mares limb.  A tilt of head and brow paint a prominent picture of confusion and wonder on her readable face.  Deiti has never seen such things and lacks the ability to mask judgement.  As the mares introduction is kind and given with ease, the stallion relaxes as he begins his own introduction, "Seems a good enough day as any for a swim... My name is Imperial and this is my daughter Deiti.  We have come from Loess as a diplomatic favor to our new child queen, Lepis.  As requested by her father Ivar, former King of Loess." His silver aproned face bows slightly to Wound, "It is good to meet you, Wound.  Friendly faces are always a welcome sight.  But, I'm afraid I haven't swam in years.  How long before low tide?" He inquires if an invitation warrants them to enter the kingdom.  Surely another rules these lands.  Most too busy to bother with every lost soul that mingles at their borders... 

    Imperial




    @[wound]
    #4
    W
    ound offers a simple, easy smile to the girl. She’s used to strangers looking over her deformation, especially when she walks by and they attempt to locate the source of her unique gait. In the beginning the looks had bothered her (who wants to see eyes roll in disgust every time they go somewhere public?), but as she matured into her home on Tephra so did her self-confidence. Now she attempts to ease the girl’s confusion and possible fear with a warm look.

    She’d been correct in her assumptions. They came from Loess, though Wound only knew that from her recent trip through Beqanna to meet Hyaline in her own diplomatic endeavor. She knows little of the kingdoms — who rules which stead and what type of ship they keep — and so her ears twist forward eagerly to hear on whose behalf the two come.

    Another sunny expression flutters across her face. “It’s nice to meet diplomats from another kingdom,” she admits. “Tephra welcomes you.” Her brows pull together now, from beneath the silver of her forelock. There are downfalls to such a well-protected kingdom, with the borders being the ocean, such as the limited access during high tides. “Unfortunately, we would have to wait a few hours for the tide to go down before we’d be able to cross without swimming.”

    She can hear the hidden question in Imperial’s voice. “Warrick is our Overseer. I’m sure he’s close by.” The silver bay turns herself in the direction of the island again, allowing a clear call for Warrick to pass through her throat. “I’m sure he’ll be here at any moment… I’m sorry you’re unable to cross at this time, but maybe that warrants another visit when the sandbank is available.” Another sunny smile drifts over Wound’s face as she glances to the sky, searching for Warrick’s appearance.
    credit to nat of adoxography.

    @[Imperial] @[Warrick]
    #5
    we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
    The autumn sun is intense as it burns through the Tephran atmosphere, though the feeling is comfortable and welcoming against the broad back of the Overseer as he soars high above the land, each wide thrust of his wings propelling his body through torrents of water vapor mixed with smoke. The first call he had not heard - Imperial’s position inland had quickly allowed his voice to be lost amongst the height and brashness of the ocean’s wind, where Warrick stretches his wingspan over the island’s shoreline on the other side of the volcano. Soon he is headed inland himself, feeling the tiredness in his muscles and bones, imagining himself soothing the ache with a serene dip in Tephra’s many lava-warmed streams.

    Wound’s call is the one he hears, and with a quick dip of his head and a twitch of his wings, the Overseer turns on a dime, headed quickly towards the sound. He crosses the channel, the sound of his wings loud in the humid air, and before he lands beside Wound, he notices there is a small group forming. He lowers himself next to her expertly, though far enough away so that his great wingspan would not touch her, flapping them quickly so that he may land with a gentle thump of his hooves against the grasses of the inland. He is sweat-stained, smelling of the sun and the sea and the wind, with a winded smile on his face. “Wound!” he greets her breathlessly, tucking his sun-soaked wings to his side so that he may move closer to her, brushing his navy muzzle against her neck. The gesture is tender and one of adoration, sweeping across her skin with confidence. Their relationship is a strange one (though he would never even have that thought for a second) - she is much more than a mere resident or friend, though there is something that thrums between them that he cannot explain. They are akin to each other, two parts easily coming together.

    His blue eyes turn to the strangers, turning his face away from Wound to inspect them quickly with a sweep of his gaze. Their smell is not familiar - though a friend of Ivar’s (though the stallion had been just a colt the last time Warrick had seen him - he is slowly feeling his age), he does not recognize the scent of Loess for he had never traveled there. A certain curious comes about the Overseer’s face, though his warm smile does not fade. The man before him is a deep gray, nearly black, with a sun-bleached colored mane and tail. There is a small, dark girl at his side that Warrick assumes is of his bloodline. “I am Warrick. I’m sure Wound has already asked, but what brings you both here to Tephra today?”
    Warrick


    @[Imperial] @[wound]
    #6

    Son of a Red Eyed Ghost

    Deiti remains hushed at his side with no more movement than a nod of her dark profile or curl of her lips.  He had instructed her that this was a diplomatic visit and she would speak when spoken to, nothing more.  It was a learning experience of structure and discipline.

    When the mare begins to apologize for the depth of water and whereabouts of Tephras leader he is quick to interject, "That is quite alright.  We will be more than happy to wait patiently or come back at a more convenient time." He smiles kindly.  Icey blue eyes follow the mares gaze to the day skies.  Wondering briefly why she was looking so far up.

    He hadn't need to wonder long before a chocolate and navy form appeared in the Tephran sky.  This must be Warrick now.  The stallion is quick to settle upon the earth and greet Wound.  He allows them their moment but when the winged stallion gaze shifts to them, he greets with a bow of his head.  Deiti's greeting follows in unison with his.  Charcoal ears twist to catch all the stallion words.  The obvious question is asked and barely lingers for a second before an answer, once again, spews from his silver lips, "I am Imperial and this is my daughter Deiti.  We have traveled here from Loess to extend an invitation to you or a representative of Tephra to visit Loess.  Our young Queen Lepis would love to make your acquaintance." His gaze shifts to Deiti for a moment and then back to Warrick, "Perhaps you have a child Lepis' age... She is nearly a yearling herself.  She'd adore meeting someone her own age as well I'm sure."  A pleasant smile creases his lips at the thought of kingdom children gathering for some fun.  Things didn't always need to be so political after all...  

    Imperial




    @[wound] @[Warrick]
    #7
    W
    ound’s stomach flips when she spots Warrick gliding through the sky. He’s a mere pinprick for a moment (a dark blot in the endless blue of the sky), but it isn’t long before the strength of his wings and the entanglement of his mane grows more visible. Their relationship is one Wound can’t quite pull apart yet and, frankly, she’s not sure if she wants to.

    She’s content for leaving it how it is now, enjoying the sensation of his nose tracing the outline of her neck briefly. “Thank you for coming,” she murmurs. Wound is positive the Overseer has plenty of other business to attend to, whether kingdom-wise or within himself personally, but the words Imperial might speak could warrant important business itself.

    Indeed, after the diplomat’s second introduction, they are being invited into Loess’ borders. The political climate of Beqanna is healthy and it causes another gentle smile to ease across Wound’s lips. The mention of a yearling of Warrick’s causes the silver bay’s eyes to turn toward the Overseer. Their daughter — a wild, courageous girl — comes to mind. But she won’t offer Wishbone up without Warrick’s consideration.

    She waits patiently, curious to hear Warrick’s voice but certain he will gladly accept.
    credit to nat of adoxography.

    @[Imperial] @[Warrick]
    #8
    we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
    His chest swells with pride knowing that Wound has already greeted these strangers - she has done so much for him already, though the mere fact that she is the mother of his daughter is more than enough. Yet she still finds time to keep track of the kingdom duties (especially with Longclaw’s absence - his scent is stale on the wind), where Warrick is often not present enough to continue the part of Tephra he loves most - meeting new faces. He hopes that Wound finds the same sense of duty and loyalty that he had when he was merely a resident, welcoming new residents and guiding those from other kingdoms. It still resonates with him, and even though he is a busy man, he is glad that it has worked out to where he could stand beside her and merely have a conversation with those from another country.

    The man introduces himself and his daughter, Warrick’s ears listening carefully to see if the names were memorable in his mind. Alas, they were not, but the land they come from strikes a chord, and at the name of Loess, a soft and gentle snort of interest leaves his navy nostrils. Imperial goes on to offer a visit of sorts, and though Warrick knows that the undertones cast a light on diplomatic discussions, he enjoys the idea of both Loess and Tephra coming together in a way that is casual and even comforting. His mind quickly brings Wishbone to its forefront - she had already visited Hyaline, and he is sure a visit to Loess would be a thrill of joy to her, especially with a girl that seems about her age. The Overseer smiles warmly, turning his gaze knowingly to Wound - he is sure they are thinking the same thing about their adventurous daughter.

    Last he had heard, Ivar ruled proudly over Loess. He is genuinely surprised to hear that a queen - a young queen, at that - now has taken the helm. There is a moment of concern that flickers across his face (perhaps confusion as well - would a child know anything about kingdoms?), but in this moment there needed to be no decision of alliances or business. Visiting would perhaps shed more light, and illuminate the situation. So his look of thoughtfulness melds quickly into one of appreciation, smiling genuinely at those before him.

    “Imperial, Deiti, welcome,” he greets them, dipping his head to the stallion first, then turning the depths of his blue gaze on the child, lowering his head so that he is at her level, and giving her a nod of greeting as well. Warrick lifts his head and turns back to Imperial. “You have visited our country, I feel like it is only right if we do the same. Besides, with winter on the horizon, a few days in the cold and perhaps snow would be good for us.” He chuckles, for Tephrans are known for their year-round sleekness - an effect of constant summer temperatures - and some of them do not remember the last time cold has touched their skin. It would be a good reminder. He turns to Wound, his face thoughtful. “Perhaps we could all go together?”

    Of course, we also meant Wishbone.
    Warrick


    @[wound] @[Imperial]
    #9

    Son of a Red Eyed Ghost

    His icey blue eyes remain on the cobalt winged ruler.  He was the perfected picture of pride and selflessness.  Great qualities for an accomplished king.  

    As the Overseer dips his head in greeting to him and his dark child, a smile graces his maw.  Pleased that this was a seemingly peaceful land.  When the stallion looks to his herd member and accepts their invitation he is grateful.  "Excellent! The more the merrier," he comments enthusiastically.  With a soft flick of his silver tassels he bids farewell, "We look forward to seeing you again soon.  I shall leave you to your kingdom duties... Thank you for your time.  It has been a pleasure." With a dip of his crown, he ushers his daughter to follow his lead home...

    Imperial




    @[wound] @[Warrick]




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