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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


    [1,195 Words]Save me from myself [Any Brother/Sister]
    #1
    Today is the day.

    Today is the day his sentence as the clown's prisoner is up.

    Jesper can leave Sylva. He can return to Ischia; to home, to sweet Lamb, to Deiti, to Brennen - his King and, grandsire - and, his Brothers. The jet black stallion feels the utmost relief. He is exhausted, physically and mentally. His fierce loyalty hangs on by a thread and, while he no longer fears what Sylva can do to him, he is plagued by a new worry. How will he be received by his king? He broke his promise to Brennen. He let himself get hurt. Jesper did so in order to learn their true powers; their strengths and weaknesses.

    Yet, he feels ashamed for breaking his word.

    Brennen will surely be disappointed.

    Despite the prospect of a reprimand, Jesper cannot bear to stay here one more day. He wants nothing more than to be safe, in the comforts of Ischia and, his family. The ebony stag is grateful that the red-nosed clown does nothing to thwart his escape. He receives no farewell bids from Modicum Mortem or, any of his minions. He does not hear a single snide or, threatening remark as he nears the Sylvan border.

    Though, it is not like his exit march is victorious. On the contrary, it is slow, almost painstakingly so, as Jesper fights the fog of fatigue and, the disorienting nature of darkness. The edge of the shadow, cast down by the amber canopy above, contrasts starkly with the exposed grounds of Loess. While under Sylva's grasp, he experienced no distinct change between the seasons. The onyx stallion never felt respite from the relentless, bitter cold or, the darkness of winter. Of course, that likely could be due to his inability to distinguish between the harsh season and, the residents. As he approaches the border of the vast forest, he finds his pace slowing and, his strides shortening as he physically tries to shrink away from the brightness. Long-lashed eyelids blink rapidly as a result of the abrupt transition ahead of him. The intense glow of the summer sun blinds him and, quad pillars cease their forward motion. The brightness causes a dull throb to pound just behind eyes and, for a moment, the onyx male lingers here. Then, from somewhere inside, a voice reminds him, You made it this far, Jesper. You did what you came to do and, you survived the hardest part. Now, pull yourself together. You must carry on. You promised Lamb. You promised you would come home. You must keep going for her and, for your Brothers. Ischia is counting on you.

    He gathers himself and, cautiously, steps out onto the open knoll of Loess. At first, the light is harsh and, it forces Jesper to retreat within himself. Lids close protectively over eyes as the daystar's rays envelop him. Nares flare to draw their first breath of mildew-free air, since autumn, into bruised lungs. Air sacs inflate appropriately; however, the expansion of the tender tissue rouses the residual sting left behind by the murky waters of the lake. The early summer sun highlights his external physique in both the ways it has changed and, remained the same. His hooves are intact; no more jagged or cracked from his torture than if Jesper had not been Sylva's captive. His limbs bear the classic lines of a desert bred equine with no signs of displacement or, repaired breaks. His sleek ebony canvas reveals significant damage caused by the Fire Starter. Patches of fine fur along his left flank and, stifle are singed off to show the bare, blistered charcoal skin underneath. The scratches on the left side of his nape are still bald from the abrasive stones of the lake bottom. Though more dreadlocked and, intertwined with forest debris, his mane and tail hang at full length and, still carry the bronze highlights he earned in the Beqanna Games. Lastly, his eyes, now shielded by upper lids, are still light blue though, the hue has faded and, the shine is more dull.

    He soon feels the gentle and nurturing warmth of the day seep into his pores. The stiffness, in his muscles and joints, seems to melt away and, before long, onyx stallion feels reinvigorated; his energy renewed. Jesper pushes himself into a casual walk, over the rough plains of Loess, and, does not spare one look behind him. He heads north to the River, the common land between the mainland and, his island home. He occasionally stumbles, out of fatigue, over the uneven terrain, though, he wills quad limbs to keep going; to mechanically place one hoof in front of the other. Unaware of how long he had traveled or, what landmarks he passed, Jesper only halts when bronze-tipped lobes pick up the distinct squelch of his unshod keratin sinking into the fertile River bed.

    Lobes, then, hone in on the currents of the large stream rushing by. Aquamarine gaze focuses upon its rapid flow and, the shifting bank he finds himself sinking into. All at once, Jesper is back in Sylva. Senses trigger mind to slip into his nightmare at the lake. Jesper can taste the algae-tainted water on his tongue. He can feel the cold and slippery liquid wrapping under his chin and, over the bridge of his nose. His lungs scream as if the frigid liquid is rushing in and, choking out his oxygen. Ebony stallion finally pulls out of daze but, enters a complete state of panic. Poll shoots up and, eyes roll back into sockets before limbs scramble into reverse. Jesper finds himself upon solid earth soon enough and, as dread escapes from form, large exhale passes through nasal caverns. He stares blankly at the River as it continues on its journey, unphased. In the distance, he can make out the dense foliage of Ischia, beckoning him home. He steps forward, gingerly, wanting to press on. Aquamarine gaze refocuses to survey the width of the water channel before him for a sand bar or, stepping stones or, even a fallen tree. Jesper finds nothing in his immediate vicinity and thus, decides to follow the River downstream, eastbound, in search of a shallow place to cross.

    Tired limbs march stag along the southern bank while glossy pools frantically search. Jesper continues downstream while the River rages on beside him. The melted snow and recent spring rains have added to its volume and, there appear to be no safe depths to cross. In desperation, a cry emits from vocal chords, loud enough to be heard across the bay. He could not do this alone. He could not bring himself to face the unknown depths of the River, alone. He stumbles once more, except this time, he does not remain upright. His left cannon bone slides into the lush grass bed. Before long, right front limb folds at patella to bring Jesper to his knees. Haunches soon lower with hind limbs folding beneath barrel and, there, the stag yields to his fatigue and, basks in the warmth of the daystar. Poll lowers until chin rests among the soft grass and, before long, eyelids grow heavy.
    jesper
    carnage x bethanie
    devin's∇designs


    OOC: Basically, Jesper has PTSD from being near-drowned by Maugrim. He needs some help. Of course, you do not all have to reply. I just figured since you are Jesper's family, you might like to be here. Thank you for your patience while I tortured my beloved pony <3

    @[Brennen] @[Lavendel] <3

    Andromeda, @[Mosrael] is welcome! I also was not sure what the limits of her water immunity are and/or, if her trait could help. <3

    @[Neo] - I did not tag Deiti because you said she was closeted but, she is welcome to reply (if you feel up to it). <3

    ANY Ischian/Nerinian (@[Leilan]?) who would like to be here to support their brother, is welcome. <3

    Reply
    #2
    Belgaer
    Spring had given way to Summer, almost quietly and without much notice. The beginning of the year had been a quiet one, thick with new life and anticipation. There had been a quiet throughout Beqanna and while others relished in the moment of reprieve, Belgaer knew that it would not last. There was a dark force boiling just beneath the surface of their peace. Roiling hungrily, he feared the power that it possessed, but trusted that they were stronger in number.
     
    Flying over the land he patrolled as he always did, his eyes scanning the earth below. He never knew what he was searching for and it never ceased to surprise him the things he managed to stumble upon. He found Pond on one such occasion. Stranded and alone he had succeeded in helping her, even if he hadn’t been able to give her the one true thing she had wanted. Ischia had welcomed her and Belgaer felt a certain responsibility for her. Although he had no true children of his own he imagined that the feelings he harbored towards her were similar to the ones his father felt when he was around any of his children.
     
    Nearing the river, Bel followed the sound of the rushing water until he flew directly overhead. The crystalline blue of it’s water appeared almost refreshing in the heat of the summer day. Despites it’s more tropical climate, he missed the coolness of the coolness of Ischia’s shade. The ocean’s breeze was refreshing and offered a little reprieve from the, other wise intense, heat.
     
    Soon he would be having to return. Brennen had grown unusually restless over the course of the past couple of days. There was much on his mind of late and, as a result, Belgaer did his best to relieve whatever pressure he could. Astarael’s disappearance, followed by Mosrael’s sudden upheaval had burdened him and the ever-loyal son felt the weight of his father’s worry. Not to mention Jesper. Sylva’s current Ischian prisoner.
     
    There was very little that they knew about the new Sylva. The new King, Modicum Mortem, appeared to be of very dark origins and it was clear that he had no interest in forming an alliance with their Island. Peoples. Yet, it continued to grow with it’s numbers rising to new heights. It was cause enough to concern many of the other kingdoms that Ischia had become friendly with. Even more so, however, it had led Brennen to believe that Astarael might have even been captured by means of holding her hostage for a later gain. She was his daughter and thus a valuable bargaining tool. The very thought sent shivers down Belgaer’s spine. It was bad enough that Jesper had gone willingly into the lion’s den, he could not even imagine the torment that stallion would be going through.
     
    Distracted though he was movement to his left caught his attention. A dark figure followed along the shoreline of the river, moving almost as though it pained him to be so near to the water’s edge. Leaning closer Belgaer noticed that there was something familiar about the black and bronzed figure. Stunned into disbelief the name presented itself to the chestnut almost immediately.    
     
    Peeling off towards his left he glided elegantly downward, his wings tucked nearly flat against his body as his legs prepared to land. In one skilled motion his hooves touched down, almost perfectly quiet in comparison to the deafening roar of the river’s current. Bounding into a gallop he rushed towards the freed captive.
     
    “Jesper!” he called out unsure of what else he could say in that moment of relief.
    The Prodigal Son


    @[Jesper]
    Reply
    #3

    Leilan
    Your beauty is beyond compare -
    oh, if I could hear but one song from you
    I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
    At first, Leilan had enjoyed his newfound freedom so much, he didn’t give the other stolen or otherwise captive horses of Beqanna much thought. He had been busy with visiting Brennen, who had revealed to him he would have liked kicking Arthas’ but over the steal, and his parents, his sister in Nerine (he was an uncle now and, apparently that meant he could spend some time entertaining the kiddo), and his lady friend Breckin. After that, he had been so busy roaming all the lands and meet other horses, he barely thought of the self-appointed task to mend the relationship with Loess where he could. Let alone the fact that he had earlier requested to see Sylva while in Loess so he could talk to Jesper.

    By the time he has enabled himself to actually meet with Arthas again, he suddenly is reminded that perhaps too much time has passed already. Roaming the riverland, a familiar whinny and then a name by someone else (also familiar) caught his ears, and he hurries forward.

    It is indeed the black and bronze male, whom he’d met with on the battlefield on the day of their Tournament. But whatever scars he might have inflicted on the black man’s hide are covered in far worse ones. New ones, but, as he nears and sees the mental state he is in, not only on the outside.

    He slows down and hesitates a little, just like Belgaer who must have spotted him from above. That man has a tendency to wander not unlike Leilan, although they both know where their home is. But Jesper, he seems disoriented. Perhaps in time as well as in place.

    Leilan is then the first to break through this hesitation, and approaches without giving it further thought. He lowers himself next to the black male, to ly with him, and pushes nose into shoulder. He notices the dirt, so he starts cleaning him also. ”Come on Jes. You’ll get through it. We’ll help.” He’d rather say I’m sorry for not visiting and failing to help you keep your sanity but he’d probably better not. At this state, the black stud reminds him of Nuage in his most helpless form, and although men aren’t generally so vulnerable, there’s really nothing else to do but soothe.
    there's something here that doesn't make sense
    let's go and poke it with a stick


    @[Jesper] @[Belgaer]
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
    |
    Reply
    #4
    He has been restless for some weeks, sleeping little and worried nearly to the point of actually expressing his irritation in the form of lashing out. He hadn’t, of course, in fact he had been extra careful to treat his Brothers and his family with only the utmost care, but those close to him have watched him start to fall apart as his family - chosen and by blood - have left, disappeared, or come to harm. So on the day that Jesper is due to leave Sylva, Brennen is ready to explode. He is standing on the shore, and by the time the sun has begun to climb the sky he cannot wait any longer.

    He crosses the sea on wing, but it does no good to fly, not when Jesper would be land-bound, so the bay stallion tucks his dark wings close to his sides and sets off on foot, following the most likely trail from Ischia towards Sylva: through the River. It isn’t far but he forces himself to a measured pace, head up and looking around carefully to make sure he doesn’t miss any sign or signal of his grandson’s whereabouts. He has steeled himself to need to travel all the way to Sylvia, to wrest Jesper from the jaws of his captors, Still, the sound of the black stallion’s familiar voice raised in a desperate cry is a shocking sound, and Brennen pivots and shoots off in that direction before conscious thought catches up.

    He’s expecting a threat, a fight, and so his ears are pinned and his eyes narrowed and his body stiff as he barrels towards them. If the two stallions converging on Jesper’s prone form were not intimately familiar to the bay King, they might have found themselves under serious attack. Thankfully, he recognizes his orange-and-white son and Scorch’s son instantly, and stops himself from lunging, instead hesitating while Leilan lowers himself beside Jesper and taking the time to catalog every visible injury and every hurt he imagines lurks beneath the surface; Modicum Mortem and his lackeys will pay for every bruise and cut delivered to his grandson, and every nightmare he has going forward.

    Brennen is seething, for once a true fire-hot rage instead of his impassive icy temper. It is all he can do to push down that red-hot fury, and gentle his voice and posture for the benefit of his Brothers. Still - he is sure when he meets Bel and Leilan’s gazes over the form of their suffering Brother, they can see what the future of the Brotherhood might hold. Brennen is not driven lightly to take blood in true battle, but he is protective to an insane degree and this is quite beyond the pale.

    He steps forward to the black-and-bronze stallion’s free side, lowering his dark muzzle gently to some portion of Jesper that seems unharmed by burns (his mind flashes to Scorch and he almost sends Belgaer to their ally with this news immediately, but he knows he has time to care for Jesper first) he blows gently across the younger man’s skin, a comforting wordless gesture to prelude anything else. “This is not a place to rest,” he rumbles at the boys, lifting his eyes again to scan for anything that should not be. “Come now, let us get safely to Ischia.” He touches another part of Jesper and feels the anger surging again, the desire to rip the Sylvan King limb from limb. “Can you walk?”

    He waits for a reply and then lifts his gaze to his son, to Jesper’s uncle. “Bel, can you fly to Nerine and then to Tephra, and to Hyaline? I would like to meet with Warwick, Scorch, and Solace together as soon as we can possibly arrange for it.”
    Reply
    #5
    He is battered and bruised beyond compare, surrounded by his worried family who knew not what to do. (Did she?) Her gaze roams brokenly over her lover's tormented form that shuddered and collapsed beneath the quiet whisperings of the men around him. The shinning ebony of his coat is dull now with burns and scars that twist the once smooth skin into a horrific map of the terror he endured in his time in the autumnal woods. 

    Any other day the splashed woman may have said 'excuse me' but she can not bring any other words to her lips as she pushes past Brennen and Baelgar,

    "Jesper?" 

    She whispers, tears welling in her bright gaze. They would not dare fall in front of them, she shall stay strong for now. Her spot is taken by the man she had met in the field, and anger can't help but rear its ugly head form beneath her aching heart. 

    "Oh Jesper what have they done to you?" 
    No one would hear this but herself, as it is broken by silent cracking sobs. Her poll lowers to press a gentle kiss to her ebony lover's jaw before it rises once more to meet the angered gaze of the Ichian king. What could they possibly do to understand? What could they do to help him other than be here? She searches the elder man's gaze for answers, but finds nothing but her own mirrored anger in his marble stare. She wanted so badly to take Jesper's place now. More so than ever before.


    (Unedited, needed to throw something up!)
    [Image: lav_by_heyyou80-dc01t5i.png]
    L a v e n d e l
    Reply
    #6
    His bronze-tipped lobes could not hear the beating of his Brother's wings over the rush of the River. He could not pick up the thudding of approaching hooves, either. Finally, a piercing whinny, which carries his own name, wakes him from his sunbath. Ears twitch as eyelids flutter open. The bright daylight causes him to squint and, his thoughts are still in a slight fog from his nap. Belgaer's and Leilan's cologne ring familiar within thinker-box and, a sigh of relief escapes nostrils. As Jesper feels the welcome contact of his Brother against his side, he leans his cheek into the other's mandible. He could rest easy now that he is the company of his family. He listens to the roan's words of encouragement though, cannot quite bring himself to move. It just felt so nice to be here - in their company. His lids begin to close again as the scarred ebony equine relaxes back into his previous state of rest.

    Before long, his nares catch the distinct cologne of his grandsire. Heavy lids pop open, again, and aquamarine gaze search the River banks for his King. Orbs befall the winged mahogany stallion and, Jesper notes the urgency of his arrival. I had everyone worried, didn't I? The onyx male can only offer a dip of his muzzle and, an expression of guilt as Brennen reaches out to him. When Jesper lifts his profile, he is astonished to see the buckskin and cream figure of Lavendel closing in. Instead of ducking his head again in shame, he opts to offer her a gentle smile. His smile is a sign of his gratitude that she had made it safely from Hyaline to Ischia and, that she was here, now, for him. However, his smile fades as he sees her glossy pools welling up with tears. His own ducts secrete salty tears as he realizes how much worry and pain he has caused her. Two droplets cascade down right cheek before he blinks the third one away. You have shown enough vulnerability, Jesper. Leilan's right, you will get through this.

    Attention shifts back to Brennen's words of caution before he nods with understanding. Front limbs unfold and stretch out in front of the stallion. Jesper pushes himself onto all fours and, redistributes his weight across legs. He is careful not to step on Leilan and, finds himself steadier than he expected to be when standing. Gaze shifts briefly between Belgaer, Leilan, Brennen and Lavendel. A soft smile crosses his lips out of appreciation before he swallows. "I cannot thank you all, enough. Thank you for coming to me." He falls silent and, allows his gaze to focus upon the rushing water beside them. He continues though, he is not talking to anyone in particular. "I have so much to tell you, so much to share. I saw so much. And, so many - including, a couple of our own. Astarael. Drax." He stops himself as Brennen's words, "let us get safely to Ischia" remind him that he should not say any more here. Someone could be listening in. He sighs and, shakes his poll before turning towards his grandsire once more. Jesper addresses him and, his last question, in a tone that attempts to hide the exasperation and, fear he feels standing beside the vast and powerful water. "I can walk. But, I cannot cross the River. Please don't make me face those depths again. Don't make me go back there." As gaze focuses on the River, lobes pin to poll and, skull lifts as chassis grows tense. Steed takes a step or, two, away from the rushing waters, just in case the tendrils try to pull him under again.
    jesper
    carnage x bethanie
    devin's∇designs

    @[Brennen] @[Leilan] @[Belgaer] @[Lavendel]
    Reply
    #7
    Belgaer
     The day had taken an unexpected turn. Belgaer’s journey home had been interrupted, a reoccurring pattern of late. However, he hadn’t expected to stumble upon the battered figure of his nephew. Quickly drawing close to Jesper’s side he skidded to a halt, gently stretching his nose out to offer a comforting touch. The stench of Sylva was heavy upon him. It was impossible for the chestnut to forget the first time he’d encountered his estranged family member. Although both stallions sported the matching bronze gift given to them by the goddess, Nike, they had participated on opposing teams during her games. He had gifted his silver to his sister and had taken her third-place prize for himself.
     
    That day felt decades in the past now.
     
    The sound of another approaching figure stole away Belgaer’s attention and, just as he had found the words he’d wanted to offer by means of comfort, they were stolen away once more. Not far in the distance a roan stallion paused. His eyes took a moment to digest the scene he had stumbled upon, perhaps attempting to decide if there was a threat or a need to be threatened. Like them, however, he too bore the symbol of Nike, this time golden. For a moment, Bel’s body tensed, instinctively protective of his wounded brother in arms. Prepared to defend Jesper, a warming breeze halts him as it carried with it the salty scent of Ischia. They were all, it seemed, headed in the same direction. Relieved that Sylva hadn’t sent one of theirs to retrieve their Ischian prize, Belgaer felt himself slowly beginning to relax.
     
    Breaking free from his stillness, the roan stallion moved forward and wasted no time in offering his comfort to Jesper. Remaining upright, Belgaer kept a weary eye trained on the tree line, his ears swiveling in every direction, ready to pick up the first sounds of danger. When a figure does emerge from the forest it’s shape and silhouette are instantly known to the winged diplomat. Brennen had arrived. Relieved, Belgaer called out towards his father, beckoning to him.
     
    Silence envelopes them as the Ischian king draws near, his eyes drinking in the marks drawn upon his grandson’s body. Behind his honey eyes, rage boils there and Belgaer senses all that is to come. Just and abundantly good, Brennen would not allow the actions of Sylva to go unpunished. It grieved them all to see their Brother in such a deplorable state. Anger rose up inside of Belgaer, but there is no time for any to speak before another voice breaks through their state of unease. Feminine and full of emotion she is clearly distraught as she gazed upon Jesper. Cracked words heavy with emotion soften the winged stallion and he moves to offer her his comfort. Gently, he draped the length of his wing over top her back, pulling her close in a stilling embrace.
     
    Everything is going to be alright. He whispered in her ear, but only loud enough for her ears. His was the touch of a friend – no, of family.
     
    At Brennen’s encouragement, Jesper rose from his grassy bed, a brave smile upon his lips. Listless and slightly unsteady, his words are heavy with gratitude. There is something else, though, hiding behind his gaze and Belgaer’s frown deepened at the sight of it. It should not have surprised any of them to hear that a few of their own had abandoned their beloved island to serve the dark intentions of Sylva. However, that didn’t lessen the sting of their betrayal. A shock of lightning coursed through Belgaer as his little sister’s name is paired alongside Drax’s. He wanted to ask for more information but is quickly reminded of the instability of their reunion beside the river. Ischia would be a much safer place for such discussions.
     
    Brennen does not stop there, however. Turning to face his son it is immediately apparent that he would not be joining them on the journey home. His task was urgent and he lowered himself in a bow to mark his acceptance of it.
     
    Consider it done.
     
    Without a moment to spare, he peeled himself away from the white framed mare and, with a parting smile, he launched himself into the air.
    The Prodigal Son


    @[Leilan] | @[Brennen] | @[Lavendel] | @[Jesper]

    Belgaer is out! lol!
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    #8

    Leilan
    Your beauty is beyond compare -
    oh, if I could hear but one song from you
    I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
    As soon as the mare speaks, Leilan connects her dots - she's very, very upset about Jesper, and he remembers her introducing herself as Ischian that day in the meadow with the blue lady; he remembers thinking she must have come for someone, rather than the whole bunch of boys. He was right then, and he is now, understanding that it is Jesper she had come for, stayed for, and waited for.

    Whereas Belgaer is perhaps a tiny bit slower to anger than his father, Leilan sees that he is upset anyway. But the red and white stallion is quick to comfort the young lady that joins them, upset as she is, and perhaps even quicker to the task that their winged Brother-King just set for him. The roaning stallion doesn't care for meetings much, but he knows this is one that cannot wait much longer. He stands when the black-and-bronze man does, stepping sideways a bit; there's life in him again, now, or at least he has enough will to pretend it to be so for his lady. Leilan makes a point to gesture to her with his head that she should come and take his place, stepping up to Brennen, but stopping when Jesper says something about the river.

    "Jes... What about the sea?" he asks softly, concern in his eyes as he thinks of the crossing he cannot avoid.
    there's something here that doesn't make sense
    let's go and poke it with a stick


    @[Brennen] @[Lavendel] @[Jesper]
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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