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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


    i'd apologise for bleeding on your shirt; {Lights}
    #1
    OOC: Let's give this nicey nicey a try xD

    the truth is you could slit my throat;

    Some of us crash land, some of us eject. When faced with the raw exposure of your heart strings, the strong beating organ in your chest, most run a mile in the other way. I, I apologised with a stammering tongue, my chest heaving with the burden of life's questions. My mind as heavy as rain sodden mane, which was very much the case this afternoon. My long twists of red, were heavy, burdensome as they clung to my thickset neck. The rain was the autumn's cool touch, but felt like needles penetrating my red roan body. I shivered, every fibre of my being cold, icy to the touch. That is what you get, when you decide to up and leave, disappear like a magic act from your life before. It wasn't much life. I was born, I lived in the heralded with my sire and come the age of three winters, I was pushed from the quaint little clearing and thrust into the cold, harsh world. And here I was, with some paintbrush trying in vain attempts to paint my future, with a lot more colour than it was before.

    The autumnal colours were enticing; browns, oranges and warm golds. They merged with my own red coat as I strolled through the outskirts of the field, my heavy feathered limbs attracting debris from the decaying leaves, the wet mud underfoot and the dry grass, loose from the harsh summer's final heat spell. My vast body, a mountainous tree, hardly glided across the loam. It was more of a squash here, a throw a limb there. I was hardly the most elegant ballerina in the world; I'm sure if I attempted a graceful pirouette the ground would cave in, or I would intimately end up flying into someone. These limbs of mine, they were clumsy and uncoordinated most of the time. You could say I was still growing into them.

    The cold rain blows against me, the wind driving a forceful gale, bitter like ice against my skin, numbing my bones right down to the marrow. I sure picked a day to attempt this new start. Why couldn't I have ventured here in the height of summer? No. I would have still been unhappy with my decision, it would have been too hot. My thick feathered legs pound onward, the wet earth sinking beneath me. Shaking my crown, I dishevel the heavy mass of hair and end up hiding behind a sodden curtain of red, my green eyes lost underneath it all. I snort, a billowing breath that coils out in a swift cloud. That's just great, I'm a giant soaking mess, who would even notice me in the autumnal blanket of red and gold, anyway?

    I give up walking then, my legs tired, the wet ground sinking beneath me straining every inch of my muscles. It's been a long venture, I feel it in my spine, but not so much as the devilish ache in my joints. I stop, halt right in the centre of the field and decide to stand there and let the wind billow into me, torrents of bullet rain striking me with a harsh hand.

    It's probably my fault it's raining. It's always my fault.

    and i'd apologise for bleeding on your shirt;
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    #2
    Black was exploring the fields just wondering around. When a scent was running through his veins. It was a different smell that he hadnt smelled in a while. He picked up the pace went towards the smell. As he was cresting a hill, he found a figure in the distance. He slowly approached her, not to startle her. He stepped forward showing off his big and dark body to this new mare. He reached his nose out greeting her. Hello m'lady my name is Black Ranger, who may you be?

    He was wondering what this mare was looking for. Since she was in the field she may be there looking for a home. He was the King of the Island Resort. It was his paradise with white sands and the sound of crashing waves and seagulls. He looked at the figure before him, examining her and taking her in. She was a little wet thing, he couldnt help but feel bad for this mare. He had a very warm spot for her to warm up if she was interested.

    He usually didnt be so forward but it looked like she could use some warmth and fast and the only thing he could think of would be by his body. He stood beside her letting her feel his warmth. He wasnt trying to be ignorant just trying to warm her. Wondering what has happened to this mare that she was wet and cold. She must of traveled a ways. He pointed towards the beach. I have a warm spot with lots of sun if you would be interested in going and getting warm?
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    #3

    WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

    She left the Jungle under a clear, happy blue sky, completely unaware of the lashing she would receive only minutes in the future. The Field, well, it is quite a walk from her kingdom, yet it is a very fast gallop. It is in this way that she exits her humid confinement, the breeze caressing her bald skin and teasing the tiny scraggles of mane and tail which still belong to her. A funny sight she would be, all hairless, pink, scarred, and rat-like, if not for the tattoos. Ah, yes, the tattoos! As the grasses whip around her pumping legs, flame streaks across her entire body (ink-flames, mind you). Upon her breast, a sharp red flower, glittering in magnificent detail as a heavily thorned vine twirls down her right from leg. Just beneath the blossom, two bones cross, bones which were once very real, and are now very tattooed.

    Drop.
    Oh fuck no.
    Drip-drop.
    I swear to the Gods.
    Drip, plip, DROP.


    The beginning of the rain nearly sends Scorch right back to her rain forest before she realizes that the massive thunderheads are aimed directly for it. Go figure. Snorting heavily, the sixteen hand tall warrioress stalks through the throne of miserable horses, going their number seamlessly. Her large, ugly ears flatten to her skull; her dragon-eyes flash to a dangerous shade of burgundy; her bladed teeth dig trenches in the mud; and her bladed teeth grind together in utter frustration.

    The moment she sees the giantess, Scorch stalks towards her. She’s red, and roan, and right soaked, down to her feathers. She notices a stallion attached to her side, but that’s about all the attention she gives the man; a glance, and then nothing. To tell the truth, it has not been so many years since the Jungle considered men slaves. This is, by far, an improvement. Speaking with a Scorch who does not wish to be spoken to should not be on your bucket list, unless of course it’s the last item.

    “I would offer you shelter, but it’s an hour’s gallop southward.” Scorch eyes the woman’s thick forelock, slightly uneasy speaking to a red mop instead of eyes. “I’m Scorch, Queen of the Jungle.” She tosses in. “Are you new to the land? Beqanna, that is.” She casts a sidelong glance at the black stallion who had forced himself upon her. She has half a mind to say that there will be no unwanted attention from their type in the Jungle, but she’s on her best behaviour, you see. Queens can’t act like colts, no matter how much the rain makes their tempers flare.

    Scorch

    Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle

    [Image: scorch2.png]
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    #4



    Star was exploring the worlds outside her kingdom. She miss Nier but knew he was off busy somewhere. So as she promised him she would take care of her kingdom while he was away. She was walking along the river when she heard a commotion up ahead. As she got closer to it she saw three figures before her. One was obviously a mare and and another mare and what looks to be a young stallion trying to claim her. She rolled her eyes and trotted into up to them.

    She looked at the mare she was drenched and shivering, she kinda reminded me of when i was without a home and before i meet Nier. She could offer this mare a home with protection and warmth and the ability to grow up happy. She slowly approached the mare not to look threatening. Hello my dear i am Lightning Blue Star the lead mare of Gemstone Ridge. She then looked at the stallions typical trying to fight and push and prod to get this mare who was in no condition to fight with any of them.

    My kingdom is not that far from here. Just over that mountain she pointed. There i can offer you a warm bed, food and security. She stood with a smile looking welcoming.

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    #5
    The memory of coming to the field has simply vanished from her memory. She cannot certainly recall the last time she came here. Maybe it was when she was small and but a filly, back in the days when she was free to roam on her own accord and find her own adventure in the world. It had been a pleasant time for her because she once had everything she wanted – a home, a family, and love. It was a simple life then, Lucrezia remembers, but now it was completely different.

    She stares off into the distance, watching the rain poor from underneath one of the trees that scatter across the terrain. Lucrezia inhales the scent of the rain and autumn. There is something peaceful about a disaster like today’s weather in the field. It reminds her of a home she once knew, despite all of its dark shadows and horror stories it had been a peaceful place. But the Chamber is no longer her home and neither is the family that once claimed her really her family. Lucrezia must forget and make amends for what she no longer has.

    The winged mare steps forward, her nutmeg eyes causally crossing over to a group that seems to be newly gathering together. She has always been a curious individual so it is not out of her character to find herself coming towards the group. After all, Lucrezia is here to find others and offer them a home (more than a home if they so want). It was her duty after all as a diplomatic of the sandy kingdom. And truly it was engrained in her mind to serve and obey her kingdom – that was the way of the Chamber and she knows nothing else except to sacrifice herself for the greater good of the kingdom no matter how selfish it may be.

    “Hello everyone,” she says with a soft smile touching her thin lips, “Quite the rainy day to meet and greet others, isn’t it?” Causal conversations were always the key opener Rodrik, her father, told her once. It was also important to acknowledge those others around you, so she does not forget to meet the others gaze and giving them a nod of greeting. Her eyes stay more on the Queen of the Jungle – she knows about the Jungle but truly never visited there as a child. It was a sacred land from the way her father used to talk about. It was his birth home and she knows many stories about her aunt, uncle, and grandparents that lived there. Maybe she would visit there soon but now wasn’t the time to plan her next adventure. She turns her gaze back to the red roan mare. “I am Lucrezia.” A name that mean nothing really, but maybe someday it would.
    html © shelbi | character info: here
    Lucrezia
    Profile | Detailed Bio | Character Reference
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    #6
    fiasko
    She’s not sure what made her decide to come to the field during such horrible weather.

    As she walks over the border into the herdless territory, the wind and rain hurls itself against her body, soaking her down to the bone. It’s freezing and it makes her want to turn around, but considering she made the trip here she think she might as well wait it out. She should at least make some attempt to recruit - the Gates is, as always, in desperate need of new members.

    Unfortunately though it seems that many other horses have decided to take shelter rather than wait it out. The territory seems oddly empty today, or at least far more empty than the last time she was here. She’s struck by an errant thought as she walks - it’s funny actually how things have changed since her last trip here. Then she had still been a diplomat. Now she is a queen, and pregnant to boot. Not that being queen is overly impressive when you are a ruler of a kingdom of five horses, including yourself and your co-ruler.

    She’s considering finally giving up when a gathering of horses catches her eye. Such a large group means that it’s unlikely she’d be able to recruit the horse their targeting, but she might as well check it out. Even if the horse is not interested in coming with her, she might at least be able to glean some small amounts of information from the horses trying to recruit her. She is so woefully uninformed.

    The closer she grows the more interested in the party she becomes. They all seem to be centred about a massive red mare who, like Fiasko, is completely soaked from the rain. And the horses that have approached her are certainly peaking her interest. There’s a scarred black stallion, a pretty grey mare, a paler mare with a set of splendid wings sprouting out of her shoulders and finally, a mare covered in tattoos of flame. She knows who the last one must be - she’s heard the stories. Scorch, the Amazon Khaleesi.

    She sidles up behind the group, then steps forward so that she’s more visible. Once doing such a thing would have terrified her - having to show the ruined mess that is her face to such a large group of horses would have been one of her worst nightmares. But now she only has a small twinge of nerves before she speaks. Who cares if they are shocked by her face? She has friends that do not care. And she has Jason, and he thinks she’s beautiful. “Quite the gathering here!” She smiles, though it is twisted slightly by her scars. “I’m Fiasko. Queen of the Gates.” It’s the first time she’s ever used her title while introducing herself and it feels more than a little odd. But with another queen here it would seem dishonest to omit it.

    i'm still waiting for the world to end
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    #7
    the truth is you could slit my throat;

    I feel like a diseased corpse, idling beneath the dying sun and thundercloud strewn sky. Waiting, waiting with a dread on my shoulders of what was to come -- vultures, I predict vultures with snaring eyes and expert tongues. But these are all little fantasies in my head, spinning little tales upon a never-ending tapestry. The problem there is, I'm not one for sewing, so my tales, fantastical little things, often fall apart in my grip. Like now; my eyes wandered the field, blankly staring out from beneath the sodden veil of red mane. There was nothing much out here, most were under cover, beneath canopies of naked tree limbs. Clever, I thought. Unlike me, still standing idle, alone, getting absolutely drenched by the torrenting gales of rain. The shivering did not subside, it only enhanced, but what did change was the temperature around me, another was near.

    Oh, wait, he was too near. I bent away from him immediately, ears flickering, pinning. I heard tales of stallions, their wanton eyes and illustrious intentions. I blew a quaky breath, a snort, which ended up a spray of rain and clouded breath. 'Dreadfully sorry there. Is this your land, am I in your way? I'll just be moving over here then.' I nodded, purposely, shaking red tendrils and allowing the sodden clumps to spill over my face, my thickset neck. I sidestepped, again and again until I was further from the black steed. Oh, wait, was it their custom here, in this new world, to greet strangers with intense body contact? I shivered, the cold numbing my insides, but more so from his touch. A vision catches my eye, red, flickering like fire against the autumnal backdrop. My emerald gaze transfixes, watched with a curious eye. Was she to greet me the same? intensity, so forward?

    She doesn't. And this pleases me, the wrought nerves in my shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Sinews flexing beneath my skin before becoming taut again. 'New? Yes, yes. This world is strange! does everyone greet everyone else with so much intensity?' my question hangs in the air, my eye turning to capture he black steed. 'Dreadfully sorry, but I'm not used to... such greetings.' My gaze reverts back to Scorch. Queen. Royalty. My eyes flicker, ears matching, flickering to and fro. Oh. I've never met royalty before. I feel like some clumsy oaf of a vessel, soaking wet and imposing. I'm about to answer Scorch when another enters the foray. What happened to the empty fields? why do popular in the cascading rain? I shiver, a delightful trail to the very top to the end of my spine, which twitches out with a crack of my tail. Another royal, oh, I feel out of my depth. Swimming, drowning almost. I stammer, lips drying, cracking beneath my parched mouth. Two more surface and I feel very much like a dying animal, waiting for the vultures to pick at my tender bones and weak flesh. Oh, I'm feeling dreadfully weak right now. I turn my emerald gaze to each, slowly, deliberately slow.

    'Are there so many crowns here, that many wear them?' I question, generally honest in my degree. The rain trickles down my shoulders, running from my ears down my nose, tickling my nostrils as I blow a sharp snort, ridding of the stray droplets. 'I'm Eld. Simply, Eld. It's lovely to meet you all -- in such circumstances too. How very kind of you all to come and greet me... You didn't have to... go to so much trouble.' I eye them all up again. The stallion, Scorch, Blue Lightning Star, the beautiful adorned one with angelic wings, and the last, Fiasco. my gaze idles on her for the longest. She has scars, which means she has many tales to tell. I offer her a smile, she, after all seems unperturbed by her appearance. And why should she? It gives a new character, a sense of something else. I wonder then, if that was why my father gave my mother so many scars? To add character? I shake away the past, dreadfully dull in comparison to the many that have circled me. I feel completely unnerved as they watch me. Cold, shivering. I then realise, imprudently, what I have forgotten. They must be here for a reason, I am after all, new blood per say.

    'Is there something you're not telling me... have I crossed some strange border that only those with crowns of gold can possibly cross? I am dreadfully sorry if I have.. I will take my leave--' my words stammer and fall in clumsy pieces from my pink lips. The cold is getting to me, strange, as one so large, one so full of hair. But the dampness has seeped it's iciness into my bones, the marrow within. Clawing at my heart like an unwanted worm, burrowing deeper. The chill grows and I find myself sneezing, coughing. Trembling. I look up, my sneezing rage dispersing, only trembles of ice cold skin shaking my body, my face. My red forelock falls, wet and heavy across one eye, but the other watches them all, and I try to smile.

    'Somewhere dry, somewhere warm. I would like that very much... if it's not too much trouble.'

    and i'd apologise for bleeding on your shirt;
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    #8
    Sorry im at work so i cant do my html

    Star started to leave the crowded she mever believed in crowding someone for them to join. She has offered this mare a warm place to sleep and live. They had plenty space for her and was always welcoming more members. She started walking back towards Gemstone Ridge there was only a ridge seperating her kingdom and the fields. She could smell her home. He loved ber kingdom it was perfect for her. The dappled grey picked up the pace and galloped towards home. "If you choose Gemstone Ridge we would welcome you, but its your choice who you pick"
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