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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


    you're the beacon / warrick
    #1
    H
    er trip to Hyaline with Wishbone had been very successful, both in political and familial terms. Wound had been able to speak with Solace about their alliance and the bridges Tephra would soon be building and Wishbone had been able to meet her older siblings living in the other places of Beqanna. Overall, the journey had been a tiring but fulfilling one.

    It’s taken her a bit of time to reach out to Warrick and brief him on how everything went. Tephra and its diplomats have been busy, moving between kingdom borders and common grounds. And Wound knew her king had also been busy, as kings often are, and so she waits until it is a peaceful summer day to call him.

    Wound finds herself nestled alongside a thin stream of lava working itself through the island undergrowth. Long, tangled vines hang from the trees overhead and the outstretching branches shield the silver bay’s shoulders from the worst of the sun. Although the grass surrounding Wound is emerald green from the nutrition of summertime, the ground close to the stream is charcoal-black and cracked, chemically different from the heat of the liquid fire.

    The diplomat observes the cracked rocks of the embankment as she waits for Warrick to greet her, coffee brown eyes searching the orange-red-yellow liquid as if it might hold the answers to questions she couldn’t even think to ask.
    credit to nat of adoxography.

    @[Warrick]
    #2
    we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
    There has been so much movement lately in Tephra, the Overseer is glad that summer has arrived - the warmer (hotter, sweltering) weather seems to have slowed everyone down, and he can finally catch his breath. There are many updates that are needed to be discussed with himself and his diplomats (Sylva, Ischia, Hyaline, Loess, they all play in his head over and over), but with the birth of Marble, the blue-bay stallion has found himself caring much more about his relationships with those who are already in Tephra than those who are strangers to it.

    He finds her familiar form along the river, her nose close to the lava streams that run rampant and random through the grasslands (anyone but a resident would find it abnormal). Warrick smiles comfortingly as he comes to stand beside her, his cobalt muzzle gently running along her neck in gentle huffs of breath in greeting, inhaling the scents on her auburn skin. He is relaxed beneath the summer sun, the tension built up in his muscles from winter and spring now somehow rubbed away in the Tephran warmth. His black mane sticks damply to his mahogany neck, just coming from the dense and humid trees of the jungle that borders the ocean’s waters, where he frequents when he is not near the base of the volcano. “Wound,” he says, his voice rich with endearment and adoration. She is special to him - though in a way he cannot truly describe - but it is apparent on the sound of his voice and the sparkle in his eye. “You have been busy. It’s good to see you.”

    The Overseer absentmindedly grooms the darkness of her mane where it meets her neck, nibbling with the pinching of his teeth to pluck anything that may cling to the long tendrils. “How is Wishbone?” he asks pensively, though he chuckles and quickly adds: “Or should I say where is she?” Their daughter is as wild and rampant as the world around them and he would not be surprised if she is off making friends with the whales of the oceans or the parrots in the jungle. She is growing older (though Warrick hates to admit it; Solace is still just his darling baby in his mind’s eye), and with his agreement with Nerine, he wonders if her untamed spirit will be the one to volunteer to go.

    Warrick pulls his head away from Wound to arch his neck, lowering his head to rub his cheek against the inside of his foreleg. He snorts softly as he raises his head, his black forelock falling into the deep blue of his ocean-eyes. Knowing that she’d be interested, the conversation momentarily shifts. “Sylva is cautious, but willing. Nerine and I have decided to show our bond by offering one of our own. Loess is friendly, but an official pact has yet to be made. Ischia still remains an enigma, and Hyaline of course - ” he pauses, shifting his gaze towards her with a slight puzzlement in his face. “Hyaline is good?” His voice has changed - the business has fallen away and true concern finds his vocal cords, laced with the hope that Solace still flourishes beneath Hyaline’s flowered crown.
    Warrick


    @[wound] <3
    #3
    I
    t seems that all the Tephrans enjoy the summertime much greater than the rest. Perhaps it is the knowledge that the rest of the world now sit in the same simmering temperatures as them, as though the seasons are now perfectly aligned and everything is in place. Wound finds herself relaxing into the rhythm of summer, allowing her muscles to stretch under the sun and her mind to wander beyond the complexities of her diplomatic lifestyle.

    She can tell that Warrick is more peaceful during this season of life as well. He smells of jungle-trees and sun-infused winds and a faint cologne of sweat. Wound doesn’t turn her gaze away from the dangerous fire-stream weaving just below her nose, but her body seems to melt under his gentle touch. “I think my version of busyness hardly compares to yours.” Her voice is warm and slightly teasing, the heat of the sun and the ease of the day loosening her tongue.

    Wound falls quiet thereafter, enjoying the light tugging the bay’s teeth offer as he grooms her mane. A smile finds her mouth when he mentions Wishbone; their daughter has become as untamable as the ocean that surrounds them and the volcano that warms them. She’s already past her first birthday and that’s a thing Wound is having a difficult time wrapping her mind around. “The world has big plans for that girl,” she admits.

    When Warrick’s mouth leaves her skin, she twists herself away from the stream. Wound looks at her Overseer’s face, searching for the lines of worry she had found there not long ago. But their conversation is shifting toward politics and she moves with it — her questions about his personal life can wait until later.

    In truth, Wound is pleased to hear of the relatively peaceful politics of Beqanna lately. There haven’t been any warrior cries sung into the skies for about a year now, nor any screeching of spiteful words or accusations tossed across borders. At the mention of Hyaline, she hears the change in the tune of his voice. Wound is glad that her daughter has Warrick as a father, partially for the very reason he proves in his adoration and concern for Solace.

    Another smile dazzles her mouth, this one understanding and soothing. “She’s doing well.” Although Wound hadn’t been able to gather a ton of information in regards to Hyaline’s growth, she had been met at the border by three individuals if that was any indication. “Wishbone was able to meet Solace and Svedka, so that was a nice treat. I believe your daughter flourishes in Hyaline. She was concerned about Hyaline’s ties to Nerine and Loess against our ties to Sylva and Ischia, but Solace wanted you to know that her kingdom will remain our ally regardless.”

    Her mentioning of Nerine brings Wound back around to Warrick’s previous mentioning of the kingdom. “You said we will be bonding closer to Nerine by offering one of our own?” Her mind scatters quickly through the list of members of Tephra. Their numbers are somewhere around average, but there seem to be more diplomats compared to soldiers. Nerine seems to lean toward the military side of things, especially with their (perhaps purposeful or perhaps not) Amazonian reputation. “Do you have someone in mind?”
    credit to nat of adoxography.

    @[Warrick] omg this is a novel i'm so sorry!!
    #4
    we are crooked souls trying to stay up straight
    A warm smile flutters onto the navy of his mouth as he finishes playing with her mane, pressing the hum of his chuckle into the soft auburn of her neck. He relaxes beside Wound - there is no frivolities or saving face. He simply could be himself - the same man she met many moons ago when he was just a simple stallion, not the King of Tephra and her volcano. She has watched him grown and she has grown with him, the thought causing his cerulean gaze to fall admirably into hers, remembering the once cautious and nervous woman that had merely been a stranger on the shadowed shores. She has come into her own, blossoming beneath the heat and smoke of Tephra’s country, a peacekeeper and one of his dearest companions.

    An idea distracts him for a moment, but Wound’s steady voice (unwavering and ever present) bring his attention back to the present. He bobs his head slightly, affirming and listening tentatively. “That is good to hear,” he replies with a thoughtful rise of his brows, wondering if it is perhaps past due time for him to visit Solace once again. It had been far too long since he went to Hyaline when business was not at the forefront. He is also surprised to hear that Svedka had been in Hyaline still, for Warrick had been sure that his son would have moved on. The thought made him feel relief - Solace would watch out for the wild spirit that is her brother.

    Warrick smiles again, adding: “I’m sure Svedka and Wishbone got along rather well.” He laughs then, tossing his head slightly. The two of them - despite merely half-siblings - were obviously kin when it came to their personalities. It’s funny to think; did that part of them come from Warrick? The conversation lingers on politics for a moment still as Wound presses him on who would be leaving to Nerine. With a knowing look he finds her eyes, brows rising curiously. “I would need a volunteer. The moment I ask, we both know who will offer herself up first.” He is smiling, but there is a glimmer of sadness in his blue gaze. She is growing - over a year old, now - and though he knows Wishbone would soon make her depart from Tephra just like his other children had, he still hasn’t found himself ready. “Should we just go ahead and let her go?”

    “Wound,” he says softly, slowly, as a certain seriousness suddenly comes about him. “I need to ask something of you.” He pauses, tilting his head slightly to meet her eyes. “Will you continue all you are doing - bettering Tephra, bettering our people, loving our home - as my Head of Peace?”
    Warrick


    @[wound]
    NEVER apologize for Wound words!
    <3
    #5
    H
    er heart seizes, thinking of Wishbone leaving her side. It’s hard for the silver bay to imagine her daughter old enough to leave the secure embrace of Tephra, and yet the possibility seems all-too real. The girl has already been exploring past their home’s shores (she is not ignorant of her daughter’s whereabouts and comings-and-goings) and Wound knows that the sights and sounds of adventure call to her.

    A bittersweet sigh leaves the depths of her chest. There’s a smile on the corners of her mouth but, like Warrick, sadness clings to the coffee brown of her gaze. Her eyes find his, seeking his comfort amid her warring emotions. “She would fit well there.” Wishbone has all the gung-ho of a true Nerinian. She’d seen her daughter push through the challenges of the goddess’ ceremony with bravery and endless energy. It’s an attribute that would certainly fit with Nerine’s reputation, if Wound knew anything of it.

    “I suppose we wouldn’t be able to stop her,” the diplomat concludes. The release of those words sends a tendril of pride and worry to swirl in her belly. Warrick’s next words draw her away from her thoughts on Wishbone. Her heart swells at his question — at the very honor he gives her, the promotion among their rankings, the ability to stand beside him and help better their home even more so than she’s already doing — and a sunny smile dazzles her face.

    “Warrick, it would be my honor.” Her voice wavers with excitement and surprise. On any other occasion she might bow before her Overseer (if she weren’t just snuggling with him moments before) but she nods gently in a hint of the action. “You truly have given me everything I could ever want.” Her voice is peaceful and warm as Wound proceeds to step closer to her Overseer (her close friend, her companion, the father of her child) and nibbles at the slope of his jaw, content to settle beside him now that the words have been said and they can just enjoy the rest of the summer day.
    credit to nat of adoxography.

    @[Warrick] Just a quick little finish-up so we can gear up for another thread later <3




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