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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


    hold fast to the break of day || any
    #11
    we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
    He hopes she stays here - he hopes that he is enough, even in this fleeting and vulnerable moment between two acquaintances (barely). He is not sure if he could comprehend it if she were to leave (just like Ellyse did, just like Offspring, and Diable Rouge, and Dahmer). His incapability to understand the need for someone to leave simply astounds him, and it is the also the reason for the dark shadows in his eyes and the sharpness in his jawline.

    Warrick’s story - his starlit daydream turned nightmare - has been told before. The first time he heard it himself (not reliving it inwardly in his mind, but describing it to another) it had been a heart-wrenching and tear-filled scene. He can still remember the way tears stung behind his eyes like knives and how his Tangerine had comforted and hushed him. It is a memory he would remember for a lifetime and as he reflects on it now, he finds it quizzical that though the darkness of loss and shadow of grief still find his face, that anger doesn’t fill his chest, nor utter loneliness. It is a somber look he gives her, one of wisdom and understanding, one that grows with time. He is sorrowful, but being left behind did lead him to where he is now, with children and a home and a family. A blessing, though dark and tragic.

    Her words are soft and whimsical, as if she is telling him his own story as it is playing out before him. He closes his eyes momentarily, and only moments after he feels sleek white of her forehead press against the thickness of his auburn neck, stirring the smell of salt and wind and long-gone sunlight. He feels her compassion, her empathy, and a flicker of a smile finds his cobalt lips.

    It is then that the sudden brightness causes his eyes to flutter open. She is still against him - skin against skin - but he does not notice her touch, for his cerulean gaze is now set fire by starlight and starshine, sparkling with dazzling fractiles of light and constellations, and for once in his life, he falls silent; not because he cannot speak, but there were no words to describe the scene that is unfolding before him.

    The winged-stallion stretches his neck outwards, her words tender and chiming in his ears, his nose quick to try and touch the starlight he only dared to reach. His wings could only take him so far, and now, the stars have come down to him. The starlight presses into his mahogany skin, kissing his feathers and eyelashes. Though the radiance of their being does not show him Orani or Beyah, the feeling is as close as he has been to them since the day he lost them, and he is sure they are with him now, with the sea-song breeze whispering across his skin with their voices.

    Warrick’s chest feels as if it is about to burst - from what, he cannot tell. Happiness? Sadness? His brows rise in awe, his gaze lost in the myriad of starlight, and the Overseer simply whispers breathlessly:

    “Thank you.”

    Warrick
    #12


    She knows what it is to yearn. The ocean; its faces and its storm-dark songs have haunted her ever since she abandoned her first home. Depression was a thing that did not settle well on Saedís child-soft face, and she had done her best to shoulder the weight of her past without succumbing to its bladed memories. But they followed her, in the familiarity of Beqannas residents, and of those she felt she had known much longer, in the forbidden touches she had shared with Garbage in the forest. The ocean did, too, and she had spent many stolen nights on the starlit beaches of Tephra. At times she felt that these things brought her the greatest joy; at other times they strew her across rocks she could not see and buried her beneath a glass she was just inches from surfacing.

    How easy it is to lose herself in memories. Underneath the star-spray of galaxies that swirl around them – how tender the touch of stardust upon her brow. She is a moonbeam; a beacon of starshine and ethereal hope and she smiles as she draws her head away from Warrick and lifts her muzzle to taste the sky.

    Warrick has grown dear to Saedís; she finds solace in his sad eyes and osprey´s words, and when she raises her dreamer´s gaze to the stallion, they are relit with fondness. Here was one who had seen and lost so much, one Saedís would ever strive to comfort and to nourish in friendship. Her lighthearted whistle cannot be stifled by the look that holds so much pain in Warricks eye, and Saedís (starlit and evening tide) turns once more to embrace him in the soft-smooth arch of his throat. There is trust there and affection that dances in the delicacy of her grooming touch at the base of the other´s neck; there is gratitude, and hope, and overwhelmed friendship that has drawn her moth-like to his shadow.

    ”It´s what friends do” She whispers, and for a moment her stars is a scar that blinds her, but it too has been a defeated dream. She calls him friend – and standing there, surrounded by stars and feeling the coldness of her own bones rejoice in her friend´s warmth, she believes it is right.




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