• Logout
  • 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


    [open]  Running Off the Track
    #1
    ;

    Her coat reflected the midday sun the way a flashlight gleams on a pool of blood - fleeting and bright before changing as her lithe form shifts, barrel flat and ribs rippling in and out of delicate view as each leg moved forward. Left, right, left, right, the four-beat gait of a walk steady, as if she'd been at this pace long enough to no longer think about it. Which was true. She hadn't rested properly for at least a day, and at this point everything was fuzzy. Her rounded hindquarters dropped to the grassy earth as her hind legs decided they would stop here, forcing her to sit. She didn't seem to care, and merely slumped the rest of the way into laying on her belly, though fully awake. She looked relieved to finally be away from whatever she had come from, though, and gazed at the other nearby horses longingly.

    It's hard when you are from a place where you were low, after all.

    Ainsley

    The race is short but oh so important.

    Holding Out on Grades
    Reply
    #2
    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 haze of summer sits against her mahogany body like a purring tiger, first winding against one flank before moving to caress the other. Wishbone revels in the bliss of the heat, enjoying the thickness of the humidity. It reminds her of Tephra, with their endless summer days and ashen skies, and her thoughts are nostalgic as she stands beneath the shade of a sycamore.

    Although her eyes are closed to the light of the sun, they flicker open at the sound of someone falling heavily to the ground. Wishbone’s amber eyes take in the shape of a mare sitting among the emerald of the summertime grass. There’s no breeze to stir the blades around the mare, yet the bend against the slope of her shoulders and the curve of her belly.

    First a sable mouth moves out of the shade of the large tree before the rest of her slender, lithe body follows. Wishbone’s long legs bring her easily into the sunlight and in front of the other mare, mingled expressions of amusement and concern caught in the sunset of her eyes.

    “Damn, honey, are you alright?” Although she’s a heiress to a kingdom and daughter to a king of a different kingdom, Wishbone’s never been one with a clean mouth. Polite, maybe — instilled from the manners her parents taught her — but the polite mouth of a sailor. “You look like you’ve been traveling for years.”
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[SaphiraG1rl]
    Reply
    #3
    ;

    Ainsley gives a snort, looking the filly's way. She was surprised at the appearance of someone who looked so much like her, though she kept her reaction exceptionally muted, so it just seemed she was caught off guard by the filly in general. "Just a little tired, I have indeed walked a ways.." Ainsley trails off, averting her gaze. It's obvious she doesn't want to talk about it.

    "..What are the horses here like?" She asks, quickly changing the subject. Her sides went in and out not irregularly in depth of breath, but in frequency - she seemed, every minute or two, to swap between quick breaths and slow breaths.

    Ainsley

    The race is short but oh so important.



    @Wishbone
    Reply
    #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’s never been Beyond (that’s what she calls the places beyond Beqanna, in her mind) but the thrill for adventure and discovery paints a delicious, wild picture in her mind. Perhaps there are lands far more colorful than Beqanna — where the grass is as blue as their skies and the sky is as green as their grass — or perhaps there are lands torn apart by the sword of war. She often dreams of the Beyond, making a name for herself in a land where there is no reputation of her father’s, and Wishbone will find herself waking covered in a thin layer of excited perspiration.

    She can tell this stranger is from the Beyond (the scents of the unknown lay thickly across her body, pressing bitterly against Wishbone’s nose) and her mind urges her to ask a thousand questions that already fall heavily on her tongue. Yet this newcomer doesn’t seem to want to discuss her past and Wishbone feels mingled disappointment and empathy marry with her enthusiasm.

    Instead, she is asking about Beqanna. It’s a simple question, all things considered, but the answer is far more difficult. Wishbone drags in a breath doused in summer humidity before answering. “This is Beqanna. There’s a lot of different horses here, from all different walks of life.” She hopes this is a suitable answer for the stranger, as vague as it may be. How do you explain dragon-shifting and ice-molding and time-warping to a stranger who has only just arrived?

    “My name’s Wishbone. I come from Nerine, a kingdom in the north.” She wonders briefly if the mare knows what a ‘kingdom’ is. “What’s your name?”
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[SaphiraG1rl]
    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)