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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


    [open]  Shifting winds
    #1

     

    breckin.
     


      This is the story of a girl…
     

    The brush of a long, dark tail scrapes along the ground hardened by winters touch.  Every few seconds the steady crunch of brittle grass is heard, settling into an easy rhythmic pace.  Young in years, but aged with wandering, my hooves are smooth from constant motion.  Always moving on their own it seems, to no particular destination.  I am used to the routine of it by now.   Any moment  I expect to feel the gentle tug of the familiar daytime reverie; falling victim to the simple lullaby of steady footfalls.
    It is a surprise to me then, when the bliss of nothingness does not come  and I find myself instead lingering at the base of rounded earth.  There are others nearby; it is evident from the shift of chilled air that crosses my path.  But they do not interest me.  It is the audible sound of a constant tempo that catches my attention again, and for a moment I believe it to be of my own doing.  Yet I still stand where my conscious mind took over a few minutes ago.  
    A flicker of motion catches my attention and my eyes are drawn toward the approaching figure; their path clearly leading directly towards me.   The other’s appearance is indiscernible at this point and for the time being I do not care enough to meet them halfway.  Instead , I occupy my time by folding my legs beneath me and letting gravity carry the rest of my mass to the ground.  It’s as good a time as any to take rest.
    I watch from the ground as the other finally closes the distance; nostrils flaring to catch their scent along with the shift in weather.  Darkened clouds line the horizon; drifting sluggishly in the wake of the newcomer.  It would seem a storm is coming.

    who cried a river…

    and drowned the whole…

    …world. 

    [mare+knabstrup+black leopard+4 years+avion.]



    OOC: Please forgive me.  I am super rusty and don't really know what direction I want to take her in. XD
    Reply
    #2
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
    Winter has the mainland of Beqanna firmly in its grasp; the stallion is glad of the protection of his overlarge black wings tucked around the bulk of his body once he has landed in the Field. He is hot-blooded by nature to begin with, and Ischia is quite warm all year round (as one might expect of a tropical chain of islands) and though the air above the islands can get chilly, it is somehow different here on the ground; ironic, that the man who called the frozen Tundra home quite happily for so many years is quite put out by the crisp winter air of the Field now.

    Perhaps it is a sign he is truly beginning to consider Ischia his home.

    The Alliance is rapidly approaching, and there is only so much one can do to prepare for it, and he has reached his limit of shadowboxing fake opponents on the shores of the largest island – at his age and experience, he is either ready for the tournament or he is not. So the trip to the Field is a device to take his mind off of his other troubles and attempt to bring a new face home. The Kingdom could use more life in it.

    As he strolls along his fancy is caught by the girl with so many spots (even from a distance, he is intrigued), and when she appears to collapse to the ground he hastens his pace, amber eyes alert and ears pricked forward. But she appears unharmed as he draws near – her eyes alternating from himself to the horizon behind him; he had flown in on the winds propelling this storm, and suspects he won’t be flying home until it is finished. “Excuse me,” he quirks a half-smile for her, but the concern is still lurking in his gaze. “I hope you are not injured, just tired…?” he lets the words hang for a response, before adding with the slightest tilt of his head, “I’m Brennen, of Ischia.”
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
    BRENNEN
    Reply
    #3

    WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

    It made sense that the leopard mare only spotted one figure approaching and not two.

    The journey from Nerine to the field was a long one, not that Scorch minded the exercise - but by the look of the winter clouds forming in the east, she hadn't such time as would be demanded of her if she walked to the common land. And so, feeling her powers amplified in the mixing of light and darkness beneath the pregnant clouds and thin winter sunlight, Scorch dissolved into a fleeting mixture of darkness and light. In that insubstantial form, the mare frisked through the grasses at such a pace that she found herself in the field long before the first touch of snow.

    Watching from her twilight-form (an eerie feeling, considering that she hadn't any eyes), Scorch surveyed the lay of the land. When no one of interest showed up, she nearly snapped back home to her homely cliffs; but at the last moment, an intricately coloured female meanders into the scene.

    Her form slunk through the tall grass towards the woman just as another figure did, too, and at first glance, she recognized him immediately. Her twilight-mist throbbed with extra light at the thought of reuniting with her long-term family friend (I'm talking possibly a hundred years here), but she managed to maintain her composure until her form stood next to Brennen, before the girl.

    Watching her materialize was similar to watching an invisible horse gradually shift back into reality, though with more swirls of light and dark building up from her hooves to her poll. As such, she stood: bare-skinned and mutilated, with broad shoulders and a hammer head, eyes a molten red-yellow and as intense as they ever had been before.

    "And I am Scorch, of Nerine." She studied the woman only a moment more before turning her gaze to Brennen, a smile curling her split lips in an all too familiar kind of way. "It's good to see you again, Brennen. I heard you took up residence in Ischia." She dipped her head, a low chuckle rolling from her throat. She's sure that he'd heard of her rebirth into this land... But this was their first time reuniting since her death many decades ago. "May the best warrior-gone-diplomat win, for old times sake."

    Turning once more to the figure strewn across the field's floor, Scorch smiled again, the expression not really friendly, but more dutiful. "Have you come far, to be so exhausted? There are many here who come from elsewhere."

    Scorch

    Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

    [Image: scorch2.png]
    Reply
    #4


     

    breckin.
     


      This is the story of a girl…
     

    The distance has finally closed and a bay form stands in front of me.  The color of his coat is not what holds my attention though, it is the bird-like protrusions extending from his back that I linger on.  One might misconstrue my staring as rude, but my gawking stems from curiosity rather than blatant disbelief and my brow quirks slightly to mirror my exact thoughts.

    Perhaps I would have let my gaze linger where it had previously landed for a while longer, but instead his question draws my eyes to his face.  My own rather blank expression is met with his own of genuine conern.  Simply put, this confuses me.  From my brief experience,  strangers do not show empathy for your misfortunes.  But quite obviously I am not from here. 

    Brennen. His name is unknown to me, but oddly familiar as the pronunciation rolls off of my pales lips.  I suppose it may be due to our names being somewhat similar.  Does everyone in these lands have feathered… a brief pause as my gaze returns to my original fascination, appendages?  I let his inquiry drop by the wayside for now.  My curiosity has the better of me for the time being.

    The obvious staring I have returned to is only interrupted by the odd feeling one gets when they are being watched.  A tingling sensation runs down the length of my spine and for a moment I feel the fleeting sense to finally return to an upright position.  But I no longer am forced to make that decision, and instead my attention is demanded by the now forming shape of another equine body.  As mesmerizing as it is to watch, I cannot seem to shake the feeling of foreboding and at this point I am no longer sure if it is only the storm.

    It appears as though  the transformation is nearing completion.  A moment passes as I wait for the coat of fur to fill in, but it never does.  Instead it would seem that Scorch, as she referred to herself as,  is simply devoid of any coat.  A fitting name, I think to myself and for a brief moment I ponder if she was born that way or if there is perhaps a story behind the mutilation and smoldering eyes.  And I am not surprised to find myself supressing the urge to ask her if she ever gets cold.  Proper manners are not always my strongest ability.  But for the time being I find enough discipline to rein my curiosity in.

    The words she speaks to Brennen are not lost on me and my head tilts quizzically in response, but I do not respond immediately.  Am I a prize to be won?

    Probably. I hear myself say rather blandly.  Truthfully I do not know exactly how far I have come.  Breckin. I offer simply in reference to myself.  The names Ischia and Nerine do not mean anything to me. I do not say it unkindly, rather simply as a fact and as an invitation for an explanation of what these places may be.

    who cried a river…

    and drowned the whole…

    …world. 

    [mare+knabstrup+black leopard+4 years+avion.]

    Reply
    #5
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
    It is easy to forget, amongst the many varied magical denizens of Beqanna, that the outside world is simpler than theirs, often; but he takes the staring in stride and waits her out, curious, until she asks about what she is looking at. The bay stallion glances down the length of his own wings, mantling them just a little bit as if he has forgotten they are there. He doesn’t forget, after all, but they are such a part of him now that he can almost forget. He has always had them. “No,” he answers after a moment. “Some have even stranger traits, while some have no traits at all.”

    He also has the sense of being watched, and stiffens when the patch of twilight beside him begins to materialize into an equine form. Muscles tense, ready for action, but he relaxes when he recognizes her, and even more when a name is offered, and he smiles at Scorch, his eyes warm. Nerine would be the only suitable home for Scorch, with its remnants of the Amazons, and he hopes that Krone will not put them at odds with the other sea-bordered Kingdom. He may have not been able to settle in Nerine, but some of its people are quite important to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, old woman,” he responds to Scorch, an obvious teasing lilt in his voice. “I am still a warrior, first and foremost. The diplomat thing is at best a side gig.”

    But they are leaving her out, and Scorch draws their attention back to the newcomer, who offers her name. “Ischia and Nerine are Kingdoms here in Beqanna – like large herds,” he clarifies at second thought. “There are some common lands like this one here, and some do reside in them, but most choose to join a Kingdom, for any of a multitude of reasons. Safety, companionship, a purpose to serve…” He pauses to think about his own Kingdom, the Kingdoms of his past flitting only briefly through his mind as he focuses on Ischia. “Ischia is a chain of tropical islands, reachable by strong swimmers or by most anyone at the lowest point of the tide. Or by air,” That laughing smile tugs at his face again, and he waits for Scorch to give the mare details about Nerine.
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
    BRENNEN
    Reply
    #6

    WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

    Breckin. The names Ischia and Nerine do not mean anything to me. The strangers words are spoken blandly in contrast to the way her blue eyes stare at the pair of recruiters. Scorch cannot fault her open gawking, however - as Brennen had said, some carry far stranger magics, even than she. Hell, her magic was barely anything to begin with. She imagined Brennen summoning a skeleton army at this exact moment, and a secret smile crawled across her mouth, ears twitching to listen to the stallion explain Beqanna as well as Ischia.

    The mare's turn came soon enough, and she met Brennen's glance which signaled this fact before turning to the beautiful knabstrupper strewn across the grassy floor.

    "Nerine is a kingdom the same as Ischia, as Brennen said, but we function differently. Every kingdom does - politically and in structure." A cool breeze buffets the trio then, warning them that the storm approached quickly. Time ran short for this mare to choose - well, she could take her time, but the walk to whichever home she chose would not be pleasant.

    "Nerine holds the ideology that loyalty and camaraderie between members is superior to individual progress within the ranks - ranks being positions within the peace or war caste, which would be the aspects of servitude that Brennen mentioned. " Her molten gaze flickers to him momentarily before continuing. "One might call us a sisterhood, and a brotherhood. We are interested in building something stronger than many strangers gathered in one land."

    Hoping that her words would be well received (she had spoken with a calm assuredness, for she was calm and assured - but her appearance often caused her to come off as far more brusque than she intended), Scorch gazed evenly down at Breckin. She could see this mare absolutely blossoming in Nerine, finding her footing in Beqanna with a kingdom of close knit members to support her and guide her on a fruitful path. There was an Amazon inside this mare - one that Scorch longed to bring to life, wind on the embers that were Breckin.

    Scorch

    Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

    [Image: scorch2.png]
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    #7
    The cold is starting to seep from the ground into my flesh and it’s no longer comfortable to be at this vantage point.  With a brief shudder and a forceful heave, I propel myself upward and onto ivory hooves.  It’s an ill one, but I attempt nonetheless to rid myself of the lingering cold and dead debris clinging to my spotted pelt.  A cool breeze runs across me then, spilling my forelock over an eye where I let it lie for now.  It seems as though this storm will remain persistant.

    I feel my auds swiveling on their own accord, catching the explanations of Ischia and Nerine.  And Beqanna.  Curiosity is clutching at my attention again.  They speak of magics and traits; perhaps such things even more perplexing than the equine specimens that I am conversing with now.  I feel my head tilt quizzically again as I’m drawn deeper into my thoughts.  It’s becoming quite evident that my interactions with others has been few and far between up until this point.  My reactions seem to be rather openly displayed and I don’t seem to feel too bothered to diminished them.

    Their explanations are fair, I decide, as Scorch finishes her final sentence.  I get the impression that the endearing stallion and confident mare both have a sense of pride for their respective kingdoms.  Could that be me someday?  Would I be able to share in a sense of pride and companionship with a herd? Is that even what I want?

    Perhaps that is the point of their appearance.  Perhaps that is what they hope to win.For a fleeting moment my ears turn to lay flat against my skull.  Not out of anger, but of sudden embarrassment as I wonder whatever a couple of magically enhanced equines would want with someone as plain as myself.

    But my ears quickly return upright as I realize there is only one way I will find out.

    May I visit your Ischia, Brennen? And your Nerine, Scorch?
    Reply
    #8

    WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

    The leopard mare opposite Scorch visibly shivered, making Scorch herself prickle with goosebumps. Her hairless skin offered no protection against nature's onslaught of wintery hell, but luckily the caves back home would gladly do the job for her. As she gazed upon this Breckin, who listened raptly to what both recruiters had to say, Scorch could almost visualize the mare curled up in her own little cave. Yes, she could.

    "By all means, Breckin, Nerine welcomes you." Scorch smiled, lowering her head in deference to the mare. Her dragon eyes turn then to Brennen, pleasant and calm.
    "You're always welcome to visit too, Brennen, for old time's sake." She left the invitation at that, her expression unchanging, her voice even.

    But, ah, they've known each other for decades.

    She gave some quick instructions on how to get to Nerine at the time that Breckin thought best, and then went on her way back to the cliff-side kingdom.

    Scorch

    Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

    [Image: scorch2.png]
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