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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 me in this wild, wild world; Trekori & Andulvar
    #1
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
    It is quite convenient that both of the men he has recruited to his cause are of the winged sort; finding the best place to cross the ocean for the land-locked is a calculation of seasons and tides that Brennen rarely has the patience for. He knows some of those who share the islands with him are quite good at picking a place to cross where they will encounter low tide just as they arrive, but Brennen tends to pick the closest mainland shore and just wait it out. But from the Field by air, it is a straight and easy flight over the bay, even with a full circle over the island chain, so that Trekori and Andulvar can see the location of the smaller islands in relation to the larger.
    When he guides them to land it is on a wide expanse of white sand beach, many yards of beach stretching behind them into the sea and ahead of them into the dense foliage. He lifts his face momentarily to the warm breeze that tugs on his mane and ruffles his feathers, breathing in the sharp salt scent of the island air. It’s nice, to leave the last vestiges of fierce Beqanna winter for their own little tropical paradise; a comfort he could never have imagined after loving the Tundra for so long. But trading in an expanse of ice, snow, mountains, and permafrost with a coast so cold you might die if you tried to take a swim even in the height of summer for a chain of tropical islands certainly isn’t trading down.

    “Welcome home,” he turns to the black man and the golden boy; on anyone else’s lips the words might have been cliché at its worst, but in Brennen’s quiet drawl they seem quite honest. He is truly glad to have new Brothers joining him in Ischia, even if for a while they are just to be Ischians. Time will pass quicker than any of them think. “This is the main island, quite big enough to support many more than we currently have.” the bay turns to take a last look at the water spread out behind them, shining blue and silver in the bright daylight. “As you can see, it’s easy to keep track of who comes and goes. Twice a day there is low tide and there are a couple of crossing places, easily monitored, and most others come by air.” There are the special few who might come other ways, of course; by water, or teleportation, or something – but he assumes they can think of those instances themselves.

    Turning his body in a clear invitation for them to join him, he begins to amble towards the trees, in no real hurry to get anywhere fast. “You’ll have to come back to the beach this evening – there is quite a show at night,” he adds as they leave the beach for the shade of the trees. He doesn’t want to spoil the surprise of the glowing sea-creatures that paint their shores every night, because it’s something everyone should experience for themselves – even now years later, Brennen has yet to grow tired of watching their beach turn into a work of art after dark.

    Almost immediately as they follow the wide path trod into the jungle by some earlier settlers (there are a couple similar well-worn paths, so fresh water especially, but many more small or nearly invisible trails through the trees), a noise begins to build above them; rustling feathers and squawks and even strange voices. Brennen turns his face up to the trees with a little half-smile, seeing some of his favorite birds congregating quite low on the branches. One large red bird lands heavily just above his withers, talons latching securely into black mane, and screeches a very distinct word: ”Strangers!”, eyeing Kori and Var through suspicious dark bird-eyes.

    “Friends,” Brennen corrects firmly, but makes no effort to dislodge his feathered attaché. “These are the only creatures that seem to be native to Ischia,” he explains. “Some are just pretty birds, but others seem quite intelligent. They can speak, though in limited amounts, and seem to understand much more than they can say. I’ve been teaching them some key phrases.” The red bird tilts his head and offers, “Friends,”, though in quite a more dubious manner than he had offered his declaration of “Strangers!”. “It’s a work in progress,” Brennen laughs, even as a small green bird swoops in and attempts to land in Kori’s mane, chirping inquisitively. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to see first?”
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
    BRENNEN


    @[Trekori], @[Andulvar] here have some parrots
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    #2
    Our journey is an easy one, but perhaps a peculiar one, too; to my mind, there aren't usually three pegasuses dotting Beqanna skies at the same time, travelling in the same direction. The sight of my two air-bound companions, accompanied with this thought, makes me wonder about an air force; I've not heard of any such caste in this new Beqanna, but with the three of us readily available, it makes me wonder. Especially as we are on the cusp of brotherhood... But I must await Brennen's command before pursuing that line of thought.

    The land below stands out starkly against the surrounding ocean, which glimmers blue-green in the spring sunlight. Brennen takes us in a loop around the island, and I take note of meadows and jungle-patches, trying and failing for the time to notice anyone else hidden in therein. Before long, we all land on a white-sand beach, the wind buffeting us in warm greeting; welcome home.

    But it is Brennen who speaks these words, not the wind, and I turn with a small, inquisitive smile to study that bay stallion. His words ring honestly in my ears, and a strange sensation of belonging and purpose blossoms in my chest; it may well be just the honeymoon stage, but it's the most connected I've felt to any land all my life. He goes on to explain how the earth-bound enter Ischia, and I turn my gaze to the coast, squinting to see the land opposite; it's high tide now, and I shuffle my wings, grateful for their duty to my scrawny ass. I glance to Andulvar sheepishly, as if he can read my mind; I really had better start taking care of myself if I am to be worth anything to Ischia, or more importantly, to Brennen.

    "I'd like that. I'm always in a forest when the sun sets; never have a good view." It's a useless comment, but I say it anyway as we begin plodding towards the trees, each of us in any easy, laid back gate. As the tall trees cast shadows across our spines, a squabbling starts up, and I join Brennen in raising my head to study the commotion; birds! A snort trumpets from my nostrils at the sight of them, ears flicking around in confusion and excitement. Birds! Like us! I stifle the urge to rapid-fire tap my wings to my flanks, as I had that one time with Var... But I do throw him a gawdy look. "Hey, Dirtman; can you see those?" A chuckle rolls from my skinny chest, but then a word gets screamed in my face, and my attention is dragged away from our little drug trip.

    I'm listening intently to Brennen explain the red-feathered bird, when suddenly a smaller green bird swoops down to land in my white-cream mane, startling me some, but despite some flapping, the bird manages to get ahold of me, and I study it with my neck cranked as far around as I can manage. "Hello there," I mutter in a kind of awe. The bird chirps a reply, tilting its head, eyes glimmering intelligently; for a moment, all I can do is grin stupidly at the thing, but then Brennen is asking us an actual question, and so I turn my head to reply.

    "It's gorgeous here. I think you could show us anywhere and I'd love it. What do you think, Var?"
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