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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


    Slowly Freaking Out {Any/Open}
    #1
    Brisk autumn winds over a cool, yellowing scene.  What more could one want?  Everything was here, from the food and water to the content atmosphere that hung over the field like an aura of happiness.  It was still early in the day, the dew had not yet evaporated and in some cooler, shady patches the grass was frostbitten and icy.  Skitz didn't mind, she quite enjoyed the cold, helped clear her mind.  What are you talking about?  Your mind is never clear, it belongs to me silly goose, I'm always here watching over you and your mistakes.  I never miss a thing, you know that.  The arabian kept moving, her bay coat blending in with the earthy tones of the dying foliage that surrounded her.  A few other horses were scattered around, some mares and some stallions, but Skitz hardly cared.  You see, she was on a mission.  

    What mission you ask?  Well she didn't really know exactly, but she knew she had to head in this direction to accomplish her goal, whatever it was.  Not that she really knew how she knew, but she felt it to be right; felt it right in her gut she did.  Skitz was keen on following her instincts, they hadn't killed her so far and she had always been told to listen to her instincts.  Skitz was also told that most other equine's instincts didn't actually talk back to them.  Oh well; their loss.  

    Finally, her dew soaked legs brought her to a halt.  This was the spot.  Now, what she was supposed to do, Skitz had absolutely no clue.  Was she supposed to wait?  Or eat?  Or call out?  Or maybe even dig a nice hole, that could work.  Yes, digging sounded quite lovely right now.  Don't let the worms see, Skitz, they'll come back later for revenge.

    The small bay started pawing at the earth, her daggers breaking through the sod and creating a small pit, several feet wide but only a couple inches deep at any given point.  Oh this won't do, this certainly won't do... She must dig deeper to unlock whatever quest it was that she needed to fulfill.  Mustering all her strength, Skitz again began to dig, one paw at a time as a horse must do.  By the time she raised her head up again the pit had grown to be 2 feet deep at the deepest point, tapering off into shallower depths towards its edges.  Yes, this was perfect, what a perfect little hole.  Of course, by the end of her ordeal, Skitz had managed to cover half of her body in grayish-brown dirt, and specks of yellow grass stuck to her all over.  

    Wait, what in the hell was she doing in a hole?!  Skitz hopped out, and stood on the edge of her small pit, peering into it as if it was miles deep.  Woo, what a dig, whatever made this thing must be humongous!
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    #2
    The autumn air was crisp, the morning a nice chill kissing Azula's skin with a frostbitten touch. It was early, the yawning sun just about stretching it's gentle rays across the field, lighting the dew damp grass with patches of light amongst the dancing shadows. Azula stretched her legs, long willowy things with glowing gold tattoos, like flashes of glowing light as she skittered between shadow and light. It was good to be back in her home country of Beqanna, good to be back in the Valley. Her skin pulsed with the magic that coursed beneath her hooves, against the cool dirt of autumn, she cantered through the undergrowth from the valley to the field. Azula's bright chestnut coat a fire flickering among the oranges and browns of autumn. she fit in quite well, the chestnut mare, her glowing palomino limbs the only strangeness, along with her halloween tinged eyes. It was bright and early, those early beings caught the worm, so to speak. The mare wanted to stretch her legs, explore the world that she had explored so much when she was younger. the field being one of them.

    It isn't long before she meets the outskirts of the field, it's rolling plains touched with the sun kissed burn of summer's reign. Dying beneath her feet, she continued her steady canter, her warmblood shoulders sloping up, down, up, down. Her lightly feathered limbs sashaying in a steady rhythm. The morning was quaint, but too dry still for her, she looked up at the opening morning sun, it's rays like claws scratching at the world of Beqanna. She focused and with a blink of her eye the rain started to fall, tepid against her pelt, but refreshingly cool to her very bones, her sinews beneath. She gave a snort, her nostrils fluttering as she continued her progressing canter. There weren't many about this early, save for one that she noticed starting to deepen into the earth. Azula pulled to a trot and then a walk, the closer she got, the more she noticed the mud brown that was caking the already bronze mare. Her chestnut head tilted to the side and she quietly observed her. She was digging, painfully slow. the rain was coming down a little more now, and Azula gave a brash snort and the rain stopped, the clouds clearing and bringing way to the morning sun, the crisp autumn air cooling her warm and vein ridden skin.

    "The deeper you dig, the darker it gets, you know." cool words, cool like the autumn air, but black magic and velvet lace. Azula dipped her muzzle a little, curt and quaint. Her orange eyes watching the bay mare, noticing her mud caked skin, her veins furiously up along her coat. She'd been digging for quite some time it seems. "I'm Azula, of the Valley. And you are?" the words fell from her ashen lips, quaint and full of memories. Of the Valley, it came back to her like the course spring mornings of her birth, the rain, the lightning that stroked the sky with flashes of stark red and blue. Her orange eyes kept trained upon the bay stranger. and she flexed a precarious brow, "Some might say you might be digging a grave..."

    AZULA;
    the orange eyed, weather manipulating daughter of jackal lantern & calcyfur
    let's burn something beautiful
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    #3
    "Oh yes, I'm quite aware."

    Wait... who was she talking to? Herself? It was certainly possible, but this voice was new, it belonged to a stranger. Skitz shot up her little dished head, with tendrils of her dreaded, mud-caked forelock bouncing up in the air and landing themselves back on her face with a small 'smack'. How did her hair get so wet? Ah well, too many things to ponder not enough time. For now, her attentions shifted to the equine standing nearby. She was so strangely and wonderfully colored, a fiery chestnut with glowing markings on her legs. And those eyes! How spectacular, Skitz had never met an equine with orange eyes before.

    Azula AllaMalley. What a long name, why not just Azula? Azula was a pretty enough name no need to add anything behind it. Perhaps it was a family name or something, who knows. "Oh, me? I'm uh..." her eyes narrowed as the bay mare focused intently on the soil in front of her, racking her brain and searching for the answer. "Skitz! Yes, that's me, Skitz. My name is Skitz, quite a lovely name I think."

    Don't be an idiot, she doesn't care about you. She'll leave you for dead in a minute, Skitz, you'll see.

    She tilted her head a little bit, staring off into the distance now. It was only now that the breeze ran a shiver down her spine, sending a sharp cold right through her skin and touching her bones. Skitz didn't know if she was sweaty or wet, but it scarcely mattered. Because now, Skitz was imagining the cold reaching out and touching her. She could see the cold as an entity, a form as you will, not any shape in particular, just a misty figure, like a shadow that sucked the life out of everything around it. She imagined that figure reaching out with spindly fingers, as if an arm reaching out from beneath a cloak, and reaching out to touch her insides, to feel around and freeze her soul.

    "No!" Skitz looked back to Azula AllaMalley, putting on another huge smile as if nothing had happened. A few moments passed by and Skitz sort of felt like she should say something, but she wasn't entirely sure at all as to what she should say. Name? Had she already said her name? The mare wasn't entirely sure, she wasn't too good at having conversations, she had never gotten much practice. Most equines either made fun of her or simply left, though she never understood why. What could be so bad about her that nobody was able to stick around? She had always tried to be nice... "My name is Skitz, by the way."

    words: 451
    notes: i'm still getting the feel for her, please ignore my weird writing.
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    #4
    OOC: No problem, it's fine! She's certainly interesting Smile

    She'd met a fair few in her time. Some large, some small in character, some as strange as the wildflowers that grow as you enter the valley, it was the veins of magic, Azula was sure, that did it. Made them radiate strange hues, strange spindles and thorns. The chestnut mare gave a curious eye to the bay, a raised proverbial brow, but she said no more, she was mildly certain she was dealing with a mare that was perhaps a few apples short of the tree, but Azula was quite fine with that. Many different souls shaped the world, she had seen in her lifetime, many souls indeed. And the bay Arabian was quite interesting to the chestnut mare, she liked interesting, intriguing things. Sort of like the strange girl in the corner of the classroom collecting dead butterflies and strange bones. "Skitz. Skitz Indeed." Azula's voice was low, dark magic and velvet, quaint and smooth. She took a few steps closer, her muzzle dropping to the mare's level (as she was still lower than her, in the hole like some badger.) her glowing gold limbs shifting beneath her, she came right close to the hole, deep. She was certainly a mindful creature, put a lot of effort into.. well, what was the purpose of the hole?

    "You've put a lot of effort into that." quaint, polite. Her mother had brought her up, not dragged her through the bushes. She was a diplomat by nature, born with a sort of silver tongue and golden lips. "What exactly is it for, might I ask? A tunnel to the end of time?" a curious laugh, gentle and sort of like the crisp autumn breeze. Azula was a curious one by nature, liked to listen, observe. and that she did. Quietly she moved to the other side of Skitz's hole, she gave her own little helpful dig, stomping and pawing at the side. Her lips curved into a smirk. "You'll get tired eventually. There's a place not far from here where you could rest, if you'd like." her orange eyes were aglow then, her smirk broader, her toothy grin a little wider, "Full of magic, wonders. You could do some great things with those feet of yours there. maybe a little... redecorating." always a lady of words, it was always the words.

    AZULA;
    the orange eyed, weather manipulating daughter of jackal lantern & calcyfur
    let's burn something beautiful
    Reply
    #5
    Engelsfors

    on tarnished golden wings

    Gossamer cream threads flick along my willowy neck, with ever stride they roll like liquid against every knot of sinew. The autumn air is still warm, the crust of leaves beneath my feet give way to satisfying crunches as I walk the outskirts of the Chamber, to the Field. Straia's words were a promise in my eyes, a promise to do well, a promise to get the job done. I am pretty sure she'd be pleasantly surprised with how able bodied I am and just how quick off the mark I can be. My hooves had only just graced Chamber soil and I was already back to the Field on a recruitment trip. My golden body shifts between the naked trees, their boughs bend and bow before me as my lofty frame snakes through the trunks, sloping shoulders shifting around corners, my powerful hindquarters changing direction. I had ingrained the scent of pine into my brain, into my skin, into my mind. The aroma was strong, palatable on the tongue. I may be new to Beqanna and new to the Chamber, yet I was learning the little nooks and crannies that this world had to offer.

    My wanderings bring me to the Field in early morning light; it bathes the emerald plain in a glorious tangerine light, pinks and purples. My sapphire gaze sweeps over, drinks in the sights, my nasal passages flare, inhaling the rich, crisp scent of autumn and new arrivals. My hooves beat out a brilliantly rhythmic crescendo, hypnotic, like my gaze, like my willowy frame bending in and out of the trees like a golden flicker of light. When I finally break through the rough boughs and fallen leaves, I enter the vast field and spot two ladies; one as bright as fire and the other as dark as mahogany wood. I blow a snort, inhaling them. I can't place neither but I am too new to this land, and I'm slowly acclimatising to it's ways, to the way the autumn air was tepid, yet cool. The way that the flash rain suddenly came and went, as if by sheer magic. I step closer, my hooves breaking the crisp leaves underfoot with satisfying crunches. Sapphire eyes find the bright chestnut first, listening to her words, then I tear my gaze from her to the obvious newcomer, who just so happens to be knee deep in mud and dirt. My golden neck arches slightly, velveteen dipping low. 'Good Morning, Ladies. I am Engelsfors, from the Chamber. Lovely crisp morning, is it not?' I turn a gilded ear towards Azula, listening to her. She's offering a home, a shelter to rest the newcomer's weary head. I lift my muzzle, gesturing to the way I came through the thick underbrush of morning shadows, the scent of pine still on the air. 'The Chamber also offers a sturdy place to rest your weary head, if you so desire.' my blue eyes are alive with a sense of purpose, a delightful mask I wear, all debonair and showy, all flashy and beauteous. 

    even the angels start to fall

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    #6
    so you wanna play with magic?
    She knows a thing or two about madness. Perhaps it's because she's experienced a touch of it with Girr and her stick. Or perhaps it's because it's so much easier to know a thing or two about anything when you can reach into someone's mind and pull out the truth.

    Not that she's going to do that here. The truth might be nice to have, but the apparent inanity is often far more entertaining. She watches Skitz dig, watches Azula approach, watches Engelsfors too – all from the comfort of her place within the Deserts. The conversation flows (and ebbs, and flows, and starts and stops and loops back in on itself) and Camrynn listens without being present to listen. It's a simple trick, but it's one that makes her life so much easier.

    After she's heard enough she decides to make her entrance. She appears off to the side in the field, where the trees shade her from the crispness of the fall morning. She enjoys it, the way the slight chill plays on her dark skin. But she's not here just to enjoy. She's got business.

    She approaches the little gathering, the Valley mare, Chamber mare, and mare in a hole. She is beautiful in the muted sunlight, pure black, no markings. Across her chest the gold crook and flail of the deserts shines in proud gold. On her cheek, a line of diamonds and precious stones traces a thin line, trailing like a necklace. And her eyes - today they're a bright blue, to match the sky.

    She pauses when she reaches the 'pit', looking into it with apparent interest before she says a word to any of them. She is graceful as she peers in, arching her neck and looking at it through heavily lidded eyes. She regards all of the rest of them then, a tiny smile on her lips. They've all offered homes, and she's got a home to offer too – although perhaps hers is the only one that comes with this kind of interesting challenge.

    "You know, in my home, you could dig all day and never get anywhere." She smiles then, looking at Skitz in particular. "I come from the Deserts, and out there, all we've got is sand. Have you ever tried digging in sand? It might be a challenge, even for you."

    She pauses then, turning to look at the others as well, a smile on her lips. "Good morning all. I'm Camrynn, from the Deserts."
    CAMRYNN
    co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery
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    #7
    So far, Skitz was quite enjoying the company of Azula Allamalley. Azula was being nice to her, which was a lot more than she could say for most other horses. But then the chestnut with the awesome swirls on her legs inquired as to the purpose of the digging. Why should Skitz know? She didn't dig it, Azula should go find the horse or creature that did and ask them. "I.. uh.. well.. you see-"

    She was cut off by the approach of another horse. The newcomer was pretty, a light palomino with an immaculate white mane and tail. This one was Engelsfors Fala Kanger. What was up with all these strange names? Why so long? Maybe you're just a freak Skitz, that's why your mom gave you a short name. Skitz stands in the hole, her eyes shifting back and forth between them as they each spoke in turn. They each offered the bay a place to rest and regain her energy. Wait... what was wrong with taking a nap right here? This pit seemed like a wonderful place to sleep, whatever dug it must've been creating a bed, it was so soft and comfy! Poor Skitz was about to protest their disapproval of her new bed when another mare showed up. This one was black as a raven, and looked just as cunning. Something about the new mare intimidated Skitz, but she stood her ground nonetheless.

    Camrynn Fala Gesserts. You're a freak Skitz, where's your long name? They're better than you. To the bay, this new black mare with the gorgeous decorations and inviting blue eyes was just another stranger with some weird obsession with the pit. Was there a lack of pits in the area? Had they never seen such a thing before? Skitz finally jumped out, on the side opposite of the others before turning back to look at them. If they liked looking at holes so much, she felt she should get out of the way so they could get a better view.

    "Well... Azula Allamalley, Engelsfors Fala Kanger, and Camrynn Fala Gesserts," she nodded at them in turn, "It's nice to meet you all." Skitz smiled as wide as she could, happy to have three new friends. Never before had she had three friends at one time, this was quite a day! She considered telling them that she wasn't the one who had dug this pit they all seemed to like, but she didn't have the heart. Maybe they all wanted a pit-digger? How could she be the one to tell them they still needed to look? Oh well, what harm was a little white lie? "I'm..uh..... I'm Skitz! I've never had so many friends before, we should go exploring!"
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    #8
    Engelsfors

    on tarnished golden wings

    Gold skin peppers with pins and needles as I feel the cool autumnal breeze kiss my pelt; it swathes me in a blanket of cold, numbing me right down to my wick. I elate in that frosty feeling, it makes me feel a live, electric. I breathe in then, nostrils fluttering, inhaling big, gulping breathes. That is when I notice another scent capture the wind. A mixture of unnatural air, a fizz, a crackle. My cerulean gaze finds the new arrival first, then I drink in the earthy, sandy scent. I've only ever been to a beach land once, the dunes fell beneath my feet, the sand grains reminding me of time, slipping through each crevasse until it was merely nothing. I watch her, raven body, black as night, yet the myriad of colour that brightens the blackness, it swells pride, taunts me with a beauty unattainable. I am silent, my eyes ever watchful, my lips curving into a debonair smile. I am an aristocratic actress, born to sway in pretty dresses and speak in silvery toned words, and I act so well, my mask etched in beautiful gold and cream. 'Camrynn. Charmed, I'm sure.' there are no falsehoods, no mocking in my voice, it is silver dripped lace, black velvet and smooth satin sheets. I turn my head to quietly observe the bay mare, her small frame quite robust, her mud decorated form was all I saw, her words were all I heard. I cast a quick glance to Camrynn of the Deserts and to Azula, my debonair smile never ceases, instead broadens with a little toothy crookedness.

    'The pleasure is all ours, I'm sure. Madam Skitz.' my cream tail slides over my loins, my hocks, fluttering away the pesky flies. 'Is that why you are here, Madam Skitz, to find friends, to be whisked off on an adventure?' my question hangs in the air, trickles like rain against an icy pane across a lake, it swings in the crisp atmosphere like a pendulum. I keep my cerulean gaze upon Skitz, glancing occasionally to both the other mares with a curious eye.

    even the angels start to fall

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    #9
    so you wanna play with magic?
    Engelsfors greets her, and Camrynn returns the greeting with a smile and a small dip of her head. She feels a certain degree of cunning in the mare, and briefly wonders whether Engelsfors is one that she should approach later. In addition to her duties as Queen of the Deserts, Camrynn is building her own little army – ever so secretly. So secretly, in fact, that most of its members don't even know her true identity.

    You know, it's just terribly unseemly for the queen of a light kingdom to be seen as, well, making herself into a miniature warlord.

    The little mare has so much exuberance, it's all Camrynn can do to keep from laughing. But as it is, when the girl suggests adventure, Camrynn merely smiles. It's a Cheshire-cat smile, something more secret than just an expression of joy, but it's a smile nonetheless. She continues to smile as Engelsfors speaks, and Camrynn turns her pretty head to watch and listen. "Isn't that why we're all here, to find out own definition of adventure?" she answers easily, once Engelsfors has finished. "And what's an adventure without friends?" she offers, smiling at both.

    She suggests this, and yet she knows that she herself is the exception to this hypothetical rule. She has no love for adventure, no need to dashing off into the unknown. She also has little need for friends. She needs only to push the envelope, to leap outside the bounds of what should be possible and explore what is. And perhaps that's a type of adventure in itself, but she doesn't need the excitement of undiscovered lands – she needs only the excitement of the undiscovered possibility. Hers is a sense of mental adventure.

    It's probably easier to have that kind of spirit of adventure when you wield magic.

    It's probably impossible to have any other kind of sense of adventure when you wield magic.

    It's just terribly anti-climactic to dream of a new land and be able to reach it by simply thinking of it, and arriving there. It really takes out the whole travel and bonding part, which any reader knows is vital to a successful and good adventure.

    "What is it you're looking for, Skitz?" she asks, her face legitimately curious as she turns to their new friend. Certainly Camrynn could reach in and pull the details from her mind, pushing aside the voices as she did so, but that just doesn't seem sporting. Here in the field, she tries not to push her powers on the other horses too much. Those who are recruiting usually know her from her reputation, and those who are recruited generally don't need to know.
    CAMRYNN
    co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery
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