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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


    lost to these linens / hestia, scorch, & any
    #1
    haze like a fever
    i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
    It doesn’t take her long to reach Nerine. Despite the fact that her home is on the complete other end of Beqanna, Wishbone reaches the borders just into her second day of traveling. Ever since her parents had told her of this grand new adventure (moving away somewhere for a year, learning how to become an Amazonian warrior, training under the most impressive of soldiers) the girl had practically been itching to race off of Tephra’s ash shores.

    Wishbone merely walks along the shoreline of Beqanna. At some points it becomes more of a cliff than a shore and she is forced to walk a dangerous amount of feet above the swirl of the ocean. She runs during these stretches, long dark legs veering so close she might race right off the side if she misplaces a step. She’s always been unpredictable, twining arms and legs with the greasy body of death itself.

    When she arrives to Nerine’s border she is well-put together… At least more so than usual. Her dark, auburn-dipped locks are windswept and tangled, smelling of sun and salt and breeze. Her knees have healed since her last adventure, but puckered pink scars drip across the gradient of mahogany-brown to sable. Her body is shiny in the late-morning sunlight, clean despite her frequent running. Since childhood Wishbone has spent her days running one way and then another, building up quite the endurance.

    She finds herself standing at the edge of a cliff just outside of Nerine’s borders, looking over the wide expanse of ocean that lies beneath her feet. A twinge of homesickness hits her belly, the sound of the waves hitting the rock sounding akin to the tide pushing against the rocky face of the volcano. But it also reminds Wishbone that she’s brought a little bit of home to Nerine. With that thought, the girl turns toward the interior of the kingdom and lets a peaceful call leave her throat.
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[Hestia] @[Scorch] @[Warrick] + anyone else is welcome to join and greet her!
    #2

    WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

    The kingdom felt a little lonelier with her daughter gone off to join the Tephrans. Although Philomena had developed a private life of her own within Nerine's borders, the adopted girl had never gone too many days without coming to spend time with her mother, Scorch; and now that more than a week had passed without her bright-eyed, eager-to-learn daughter around to liven up the mare's occasionally sour moods, Scorch really felt the brunt of what this would mean to her. Kha hadn't been around for some time, preferring his ghost-world to reality; and worst of all, she had a creeping feeling that she would not be able to get pregnant with her husband, Hestoni. There wasn't any proof yet, but...

    A gentle call startled her from her somber reflections, causing her head to jolt up and for her ears to perk towards the sound. Nerine often received visitors, but there was one in particular that they'd been expecting since sending Mina to Tephra. Wondering whether this would be her, or, well, him (though she couldn't see a man as competent as Warrick sending a colt to the Amazonian kingdom), Scorch shoved off from where she'd been hiding in the forest to approach the border and the newcomer it held.

    Flicking a lid to see in heat signatures, Scorch found the yearling's figure standing out not far off. When she came closer, the lid slipped away, and she studied the filly's bay hide and bright, curious eyes. A nicker slipped throatily from her; perhaps one as ugly as herself would be more reserved in greeting others, but after a life time of mutilation, Scorch felt no need to present herself as any less than those around her. And if Warrick was wise, he might have warned his daughter of Nerine's Advisor's appearance once or twice.

    "Hello," came her brusque voice, low and choppy from the fire that'd ravaged her vocal chords a lifetime ago. Her lips remained smileless, but her eyes twinkled in a way that softened the hardened, warrior-esque persona she projected in this moment. First impressions and all - especially for girls coming to be trained by the legendary Amazons - of whom there were maybe three left. Scorch being one of them.

    "Are you the Tephran girl we've been expecting?" Her eyes traveled blatantly over the filly's figuring, studying her, perhaps classifying her at once as either diplomat or warrior. If this girl meant business, if she truly wanted to be trained - she would accept the roaming eye, and anything else Scorch decided to throw her way. Eventually, when satisfaction met her, Scorch looked back into the girl's eyes and spoke in a gruff tone. "I am Scorch. Welcome to Nerine."

    Scorch

    Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle



    @[Wishbone]
    [Image: scorch2.png]
    #3

    Hestia is well being Hestia. Sulking and mulling over pointless thoughts, pondering the why’s, how’s, and cranky what ifs of her daily monotony. It’s almost a religion in how she thinks on every possibility and every possible angle of every possible decision she possibly could make in the coming days. Or has made in the past several months. Another whirlwind picked up immediately after the last one settled. She is sure that as soon as this one is over another will happen. She feels it in her bones. She doesn’t know that this whirlwind will be turning into a full-fledged hurricane that will consume Beqanna in its uptake.

    She will end up on top though, of that she will make sure of…. has made sure of. Oblivion tags along at her side day and night attempting to convince her of what it truly is, of how much she “loves” it. Bile rises at the mere thought of “loving” it. Still she can’t bring herself to chase it away. They’ve formed something over these last months together. At least she doesn’t have to feed it. That much is a comfort to her. She blinks her eyes into focus again when the weak call of a child warbles on the air.

    She begins to walk in the direction of the call, Oblivion quick on her heels. It’s uncanny how it doesn’t need to check its footing, as blind as it is. Or how nothing is unexpected, or surprising for it. Part of being a Demon my love. And telepathy has its benefits. Her lip curls at hearing those words, and a sore spot in her soul begins to ache depressingly once again longing for a certain musky scented male she’d brought back home, but not heard from since... Cold and alone she feels desperate for company to pull her from her ever darkening moods. To long she’s pulled back from her friends, and the self-imposed isolation is wearing on her. Even as she knows this, it doesn’t help the cold loneliness that begins to fill her now.

    When she comes into view of the foal, she spots Scorch close by. A sigh escapes, almost like she can breathe again. The loneliness slipping away for a brief second at the sight of someone familiar. Hestia doesn’t smile and her eyes don’t light up or sparkle as Scorch does. But they are not as cold or hard as they once were. She doesn’t threaten or throw daggers as she used to. Time changes everyone for good or ill, and sometimes it sways between the two as a pendulum. Right now she takes comfort in being near a friend, but doesn’t reach out as she normally does. The black queen believes that she needs space right now after this thing refuses to leave her alone making her feel suffocated with every nostril flapping breath it takes. I’m Hestia, Welcome.

    The thing just looks in the filly’s direction, head cocked oddly, its lid covered eyes facing the new comer, as the piece of its nostril flaps with each breath it takes. Onyx scales flash their rainbow iridescence against the rays of sun. It can’t know how terrifying it looks, as it can not express anything, even the curiosity it feels comes out wrong in its sickly slimy way. Would Wishbone turn tail and squeal all the way home after seeing this? Without intending to Hestia presents the princess with her first challenge. Oblivion’s fear aura isn’t to over powering, but still even the black queen is left feeling ill at ease when around it to long. Hello, I’m Oblivion, it speaks in Wishbone’s and Scorch’s minds.

    HESTIA

    The devil whispered in my ear, you’ll never survive the storm
    I whispered back, I am the storm


    @[Wishbone] @[Scorch] @[Warrick]
    [Image: 345k45w.jpg]
    #4
    haze like a fever
    i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
    She knows little of the one who will replace her at home. She never did have the chance of meeting the other yearling, but in truth it’s hardly something that’s on her mind as she stands at the edge of Nerine. An entire year’s worth of possibilities lie spread beneath her feet, just waiting for her to reach out and touch them.

    Little does she know these possibilities come in the form of a mare so burnt that Wishbone audibly gasps. It’s something she’s never seen before (out of all the many things she’s seen in her life so far) and her sunset eyes scan over the other’s body, curious but subtle. Before she gets too far ahead of herself, Wishbone forces herself to rein in and focus on the task at hand. She is here to represent Tephra above anything else; she must do her best to make only allies here.

    She stands steady as the mare’s eyes critique her growing body. Although she is still young, her frame shows signs of maturity and possibility — she’s slowly blossoming into slender curves shaped by sinewy muscle. Wishbone raises her chin in the face of the Nerinian’s judgement and waits for the eventual question of her presence.

    “Yes, I am.” Her voice is young, but already fashioned with an underlying roughness from the effects of the ash of Tephra. It’s a pleasant sound nonetheless, a melodic combination of honey and whiskey. “My name’s Wishbone.” She doesn’t add her relationship to Tephra’s Overseer, finding it unnecessary in this situation. Would their treatment of her change if they knew her as the precious daughter of Warrick? Would they treat her less roughly and more like a princess?

    She’s determined to be the complete opposite of a glamorous princess (if that’s any indication from her windswept mane and scarred knees) so she keeps her lips sealed. Her amber eyes turn toward another figure approaching, this one with a creature in tow. Wishbone’s gaze is curious once again; Nerine is proving to be a very interesting place.

    Her parents have told her about Nerine’s queen Hestia and so her head dips into a polite, regal nod. “Queen Hestia, thank you for having me.” She’s on her best behavior (clearly) but her gaze can’t stop from wandering toward the creature at the queen’s heels. It looks disgustingly terrifying, but Wishbone’s never been one to scare easy. Her brows raise when the creature speaks inside her mind, but she finds her lips moving into a hesitant smile.

    It reminds her of Khaedrik and his shadow-wolf in the woods, a thought that might be ill-fitting to anyone else but brings happy memories to Wishbone. Her voice speaks aloud, rough around the edges but smooth in the midst. “What are you?”
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[Scorch] @[Hestia] this is all over the place I'm so sorry D:
    #5

    WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

    At the girl's audible gasp, Scorch almost smiled; but she managed to keep up the rough-and-tough persona despite the youth's adorable innocence. Ah, it'd been too long since someone was so blatantly taken aback by Scorch's figure; yes, Sabra had eyed her, and Breckin had asked, and Mina had of course never expected any differently - but the little gasp, well. After a life time of looking this way, it felt good to know that she still had it - the ugliness of it. She deserved some fun, considering the pain that had, and still does, plague her due to the charring so long ago.

    But the little bay's youthfulness grows sturdy under Scorch's calculative eye, and so the laughable moment passes into something more of appreciation for the caliber of child that the Tephrans had offered them this fall. She would do well here, Scorch already knew; she could see the potential in the curve of the girl's whithers, and in the way her eyes glimmered with something akin to the Amazons of Old.

    Yes, I am. My name's Wishbone. The girl spoke in a surprisingly low tone, but it sounded lovely coming from her despite her small frame. Scorch dipped her head in acknowledgment, stowing the name away to be recalled later. As a reply came in the shape of her lips gently parting, the sound of hoof-steps interrupted her (though not unkindly), and the mare craned her neck to see who might approach.

    It was Hestia, and she approached with an even more stoic gaze than Scorch. When she deigned not to touch her advisor in greeting, Scorch took the unusual approach in step and simply dipped her head in greeting, glittering eyes perhaps lingering a moment in wonder at what stopped the black hag from taking part in their usual familiar greeting. When the shining black figure of her demon-colt caught Scorch's eye, a partial understanding washed over, and she turned her attention back to the filly. Hestia was dealing with some shit - shit Scorch would never want to deal with herself. So she could respect the distance, even if she didn't fully understand.

    Wishbone offered Hestia a polite greeting, and Scorch's lips twitched in the faintest hint of an approving smile. Good; she had manners. The expression changes to one of derision when a voice invades the privacy of her mind, and her ears pin with a snort at it's words. That ugly thing with no eyes could read their minds? Well, she and Hestia would certainly have to have a conversation about this later.

    Shoulders rolling to dispel the nerves she felt at this Oblivion's introduction, Scorch eyed Wishbone warily as she bravely spoke to the thing. Hmmph, go figure that the child would have less fear for evil than the adult - but she had not yet seen the true horrors of a long life, so Scorch allowed the slight rebuttal she felt to pass by.

    "So this is the creature I've been hearing rumours about across Nerine," she muttered as lightheartedly as she could. Her eyes went from Hestia's to Wishbone's. "Not every sister has a demon with her, I assure you."

    Scorch

    Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle



    @[Hestia]
    #writesnovel #saysliterallynothingofuse
    [Image: scorch2.png]
    #6

    They are strong, they are warriors, they are… powerful. They are the last remnants of a terrific bloodline. They approach the girl and look her over. She buckles only slightly under their gazes, but recovers herself. Hestia’s lip twitches with a small breath let from her nostrils. Yes she needs time. Time to heal and solidify herself. She’s not one that often needs to adjust, life just seems to part and flow around her as a river does with a rock. Very few times has she had to adjust. When she does, she does not respond all that kindly towards the object she sees as forcing her to adjust, and anyone else that happens to be around at the time.

    Today it’s Scorch and a child. But she doesn’t curl her lips or tell them to go fuck themselves. She takes comfort in her friends presence even if she can’t bring herself to physically make contact. The green eyed queen focuses on the girl while she speaks. Thank you for coming. she replies with her soft voice. The influx of children in Nerine is a sign of their strength here. The fear and uncertainty have begun to run its course and Nerine will continue in its strength. Her gaze wavers when she sees Scorches ears flipping back. The black mare can only guess as to why, and inwardly she groans.

    She catches the others eye for a moment, her own thoughts walled away behind icy steel. They would have words. But not here, not in front of this child. Scorch makes a statement, one that is loaded with the warning of a pending conversation. Hestia doesn’t respond, she saves that for later. Wishbone takes their attention once more before the silence grows awkward. It’s not from here, that is for sure. Her lips press in a thin line listening to Scorch’s reassurances for the child.

    While they speak her gaze drifts to the sea, dark and brooding. Lost in thought, a pair of eyes haunt her vision, grayish lavender, stormy as the ocean on a warm summer morning. Sweet and spicy musk floods her nostrils and she breaths it into every fiber of her lungs until it is all she can smell. Almost vibrating with the rumble of the voice… It’s a ache she’s familiar with and one that she never wanted to be reacquainted with. Yet here she stands and it consumes her mind, body and soul.
    ~~~
    It steps away from Hestia, maneuvering closer to Wishbone. I’m simply Oblivion, it speaks into all their minds. It stretches out its neck nostrils wide to take in as much scent from the filly as it can. May I? It gestures in asking to touch her, I cannot see to know what you look like. And I’d like to get to know you very much. After addressing her initial question the rest is spoken only in Wishbones mind.

    Then it continues to speak this time only to Scorch. Would you like me to tell you? There would be no mistaking what question it is speaking of. She’d not get a straight answer from Hestia, any who know her, would know that even when the queen tries to give a straight answer she’s still evasive as all hell. Speaking to her is like looking at a puzzle with only half the pieces. And Scorch gives the impression to Oblivion as someone who wants all the answers. It could easily give her them, but would she accept what the demon tells her? That’s the fun part for it honestly. Giving her that tease and knowing that it will eat her alive knowing that all the answers are right there just waiting for her to take them.

    HESTIA

    The devil whispered in my ear, you’ll never survive the storm
    I whispered back, I am the storm


    @[Wishbone] @[Scorch]
    [Image: 345k45w.jpg]
    #7
    haze like a fever
    i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
    The newness of Nerine does not give Wishbone the satisfaction of spotting the burnt mare’s admiration. Winning the affections of the Nerinian’s isn’t exactly at the top of her importance list (being a good example might be, but that didn’t mean they had to like her), but if the girl knew of Scorch’s hard-to-earn heart-tendencies, she might’ve been more excited over the subtle hints she could have caught if she weren’t so absorbed in other things.

    Her gaze is more drawn to the dark queen and her soft words of gratitude. It hadn’t been an issue at all — coming to Nerine — on Wishbone’s end, though her mother had been more hesitant. Warrick hadn’t even offered the opportunity to any other child of Tephra, knowing his daughter would jump at the chance to train under someone else’s words and explore some other corner of Beqanna. Even after running a good portion of the way to Nerine the girl is bursting with warm excitement under her mahogany skin.

    Although the tension between the two mares is dense enough to smell in the air, Wishbone shoves it aside. She isn’t the most immature of children and her tendencies lean toward a wilderness swaddled in the embrace of sensibility. But the issues that linger between the pair are none of her own business and so she merely offers Scorch a bewilderingly unrestrained smile. Her aim is to bring about peace to the burnt mare’s mind — to prove there is no fear in her heart for this shadow-coddled creature — but it looks more akin to the sunkissed, reckless expression she had given Trekori those many days ago on the midnight beach.

    Her sunset eyes drift toward Hestia again, curious to see the queen’s reaction to Scorch’s reassuring words, but she’s lost in thought. Before Wishbone can wonder what the queen is thinking about, the shadow-creature is slinking closer. It calls itself Oblivion, asking to touch her. A tendril of curiosity worms against her heart; Khaedrik’s shadow-wolf had never touched her, kept at bay by the boy’s stern voice and quiet (dangerous) hands.

    She steps closer to Oblivion, sable nose almost touching shadow nose. “Yes,” she whispers. It’s a hush — silent only to the creature’s ears — underneath the whisk of the wind and roar of the ocean.
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[Scorch] @[Hestia]
    #8

    WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

    Scorch couldn't decide what to watch as the scene played out before her. There was Hestia, standing with unfocused eyes that reached for the sea with a discomforting longing; and then there was Wishbone and Oblivion, getting closer and closer in a lewd and oddly fascinating way. The mare's dragon eyes flashed madly between both options, a muttered what the hell escaping her as what ought of have been a politic interaction veered dangerously towards something completely different.

    As she watched metaphorical sparks sizzling between the children ominously, Scorch couldn't help it any more. Although her friend and queen had earned all of her respect, and in this instant had made it clear that she needed a wide berth physically, Scorch reached out across the distance between them and gently but firmly pressed her nose the base of Hestia's neck. "Hey," she murmured, "Snap out of it." The words were kind, more kind than perhaps Hestia would expect - but Scorch couldn't imagine what living with that demon could do to a person after longer than a short while, and she didn't want to make things worse.

    Hoping that that would remedy the situation - though she felt as though the children would rush ahead with their strange, dark touches before anyone could intervene - Scorch straightened and fell by the wayside of the interaction once more, feeling a little bit too much like a babysitter for her liking. But if Official Babysitter was what the Amazons needed of her, then Official Babysitter she would be until the drawing of her very last breath.

    (It spoke to her then, and without thinking she cloaked herself in a perfect melange of shadow and light that left her perfectly invisible. Though the others could not see her, her ears pinned to her skull in defiance, nose peeling back in a sneer. Be gone from my mind. The words rang dully through her skull, but she knew that Oblivion would hear them. She couldn't pin the reason why his intrusion so afflicted her - but it was a minute or longer until the camouflage she wore slowly disappeared, her expression neutral once more.)

    Scorch

    Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

    [Image: scorch2.png]




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