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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


    she got gold doorknobs / virgo
    #1

    she’s got jumper cable lips
    she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death

    It’s a long journey from the Field to Nerine, but Wishbone doesn’t mind the walk. There is much of Beqanna to see — from the eternally autumn forests of Sylva to the strong, high mountains of Hyaline to the distant bright-blue islands of Ischia — and the girl easily points out these features. She’s been well-educated on the Reckoning and the geological shifts Beqanna underwent to get where it is today so Wishbone is sure to mention the borders of the surrounding kingdoms and a few facts about each.

    There’s relief in the depths of her amber eyes when they finally enter into Nerine. There’s unrest in Beqanna, settling over the common-areas and shadowy trails, and to know they have reached the northern kingdom’s secure, protected borders brings her ease. The ocean roars not far from them, waves still slightly chilled despite the warmth of the season. Nerine’s summers bring warmth to the dunes and rugged landscape but the northern sea constantly holds a bitter temperature no matter the season.

    Wishbone turns her gaze toward Virgo as they come to a halt just within the border. They’re above the waves in this position and a wide plateau stretches before them. The ground is relatively hard underfoot, dense from the granite cliffs, but sturdy, wind-tried foliage grows regardless. A breeze whips along the empty space, tangling Wishbone’s mane even further and dragging the sun’s warmth off their backs.

    “Welcome to Nerine, Virgo.” A proud expression dances in her gaze for a moment as she scans her home before turning to gauge the newcomer’s expression. “We’re the northernmost kingdom, so the winters can be rough, but you have to admit there’s a tough sort of beauty here.” That first winter had been strenuous on Wishbone, especially having come from the eternal humidity of Tephra. Yet the hardiness of the kingdom and those who inhabit it has proved itself time and time again and with each season Wishbone falls in deeper love with it.

    “Would you like a tour?”

    wishbone



    @[Virgo]
    #2
    the first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
    the second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth.

    She thinks Wishbone is gentle like a merciful summer breeze, the kind of girl that she would like to be if only she could tame her fury. Her voice is practiced and proper as she recites the places that they pass along their journey. Sylva. Hyaline. Ischia. The names are foreign to her ears but she tries to tuck them away for a later day when she may need to know them. Perhaps she may visit them just to learn of their people and acquaint herself with Beqanna’s new face. The thought delights her, much to her own surprise.

    The distant hush of the ocean laps ceaselessly at the shore. It is a new, subtle lullaby for her that eases the tension from her shoulders even though she doesn’t seem to notice. All of summer’s heat retreats from her skin as the northern ocean’s wind runs across her body. Virgo isn’t certain whether or not she likes the cold but she supposes it may be worth the sacrifice if she the climate doesn’t quite agree with her. After all, something here is enough to keep this kingdom going strong.

    The Valley had offered its protection in the winter months as the surrounding mountains chewed up any potential storm that came their way. The Deserts only ever knew an eternal summer that kept Virgo bathed in sweltering heat and sand. Has she ever truly known the cold, then? She brushes the question from her mind and supposes it’s time to see a real winter.

    Her ears turn toward Wishbone when she speaks and Virgo’s bright eyes skim across the open land before them. There are others milling around and attending to whatever needs their attention while others idly chat. The wind curls her forelock from her pale face as she looks back to the queen again. “Of course. Tell me everything you love most about your home,” she says with a light nod. Her legs carry her forward and further into the kingdom as she surveys it further. There is a sudden desire to drink it all in and meet its people.

    This feels a little like the first time she saw Eerie’s face, she thinks. It feels like something akin to home.
    Virgo
    you will ruin him and he will thank you; he will say please.
    @[Wishbone]
    #3

    she’s got jumper cable lips
    she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death

    If Tephra or Nerine had been stripped away, lost to the ocean and the destructive forces of the fairies, Wishbone isn’t sure what she would do. The place of her childhood haunts (the warmth of the volcano, the heaviness of the smoke and humidity, the lapping rhythm of the waves on the ashen shores) and the place of her everyday haunts (the strength of the angry waves crashing against the cliffs, the undiscovered nooks and crannies of the caverns, the hush of the breeze through the pine-tree forest) are physical evidences of her comfort. To nestle among the rocky face of the volcano or to toss her nose into the chill of the northern ocean are some of her greatest delights.

    If Beqanna were to decide its inhabitants were ungrateful of their homes and simply eradicate them as simply as breathing, the physicality of Wishbone’s life would disappear.

    These thoughts bring a deep sorrow into her chest, almost to the point of aching, and Wishbone wonders if Virgo feels the same. The mahogany mare doesn’t offer sympathy or pity to the newcomer though, and none of these dark emotions play in her eyes aside from a slight twitch of her lower lip. Nerine and Tephra are here now, strong and fortifying against the oncoming wrath of Sylva and its members, and Wishbone takes comfort in that fact.

    A smile brings fierce warmth to her sunset eyes when Virgo asks her a question. They move deeper into the kingdom, across the plateau, and Wishbone dips her head in brief, albeit sincere, greetings toward each Leviathan they pass. “I love the ocean,” she admits. She’s always loved the ocean, even in Tephra; the waves and the endless rhythm of the tides bring her comfort while the unpredictability of the sea’s mood and the reflection of the weather in its depths sings to the recklessness within herself. “It makes me feel like a piece of Tephra came with me to Nerine.” She certainly misses her childhood land, but Nerine constantly proves itself that it is equally as worthy as a home.

    “I could rant about Nerine for days, though.” She laughs now, as spirited and intense as a summertime thunderstorm, and the wind seems to dance across their shoulders and through their manes as if it were laughing with them. They’ve stopped close to the ocean now, perched where the plateau ends and the granite cliff begins. A sudden edge is all that stands between the two mares and the sea below and while the waves on the shore not far down the beach are passive and playful, these waves are agitated and powerful, crashing against the cliffs as if attempting to push them down. “I’ve ran along this stretch of cliff before” — her hooves only inches away from the edge, threatening to push her own body off the side and into the positivity of death — “and I’ve never slipped yet.”

    It’s a simple thought, but the husk of Wishbone’s voice hints at the camaraderie of a thought spoken between friends.

    wishbone



    @[Virgo] / let me know if you want her added to the ranks or not — and where, if you do <3
    #4
    the first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
    the second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth.

    At night, sometimes, Virgo used to sneak into the Forsaken Valley long after she’d called it home, when only strangers roamed her hills. She used to hide in the forests that bordered the kingdom and curl up beneath the trees to sleep until dawn woke her. The smell of moss and fire felt like home to her, back then. Once she even found bones that might have been her mother. But it’s all gone now, so it’s time for her to carry on with the memories like a locket in her heart. Everclear had told her that life would move on whether she did or not.

    She follows Wishbone as she moves forward. Her head does not bow but she does offer a half smile to each stranger. Virgo is too proud to tip her head to anyone and she doesn’t know how to strip herself of such ego. It almost makes her laugh to remember her adoptive father trying to break her of such habits. How did he juggle the responsibilities of an entire kingdom and a brat like her at his age? Would he sigh in frustration with her still, if he saw her today? (She knows he’s out there somewhere, immortal and unyielding in his old ways.)

    Her ears turn to catch the queen’s words when she speaks and she can’t really relate. The oceans terrify her, to some degree. Perhaps she will learn the love the scent of salt and the crashing sound of the waves around her. “Don’t you ever wonder what’s out there, lurking beneath the ocean surface?” she asks as she looks at Wishbone now. Virgo has seen the face of magic, watched the way it ripped the land apart countless times. It makes her wonder just what sorts of monsters are out there, what wondrous things exist beyond her sight.

    She maintains a certain distance between the edge of the plateau and herself. Fate had not seen fit to gift Virgo with either immortality or wings, and so she is careful to avoid certain dangers. Her bright eyes watch Wishbone dare the wind and the edge to take her but nothing rises to meet her challenge. Instead, life yields to her and sends the winds to run its fingers through their manes like a loving parent tousling its child’s hair. She swallows hard. Amazons, Leviathans, whatever name they choose, are wild and fearless all the same. Time must love them best.

    But she seems to have shared a secret; it is time to do the same.

    “When I was younger, I used to let myself get tangled in the vines until I thought for certain I would never escape,” she says as she looks out over the ocean. “Eerie used to pick them off me and laugh at how helpless I was.” A smile spreads over her lips then and it sounds like a lovely image. Truth be told, Eerie also wove those vines tight around her and then laughed at how weak she became. Her voice is cashmere and heat despite the chill the current brings across their faces. The darkest depths of her heart ache.
    Virgo
    you will ruin him and he will thank you; he will say please.
    @[Wishbone] -- yes, please! you can add her to the imesh
    #5

    she’s got jumper cable lips
    she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death

    Wishbone doesn’t doubt her friend’s hesitancy. Although fear is a concept that doesn’t frequent her mind, the mahogany mare knows that it can paralyze others. The slippery, cold ink of dread sliding into her stomach is a feeling Wishbone often translates into adrenaline and a fierce desire to run toward that which bleeds the dread. Her life is lived in vibrant shades of color and none of them include the requirement of shying away from what frightens her.

    The ocean has always been a mystery to Wishbone (mysteries — the things of the world that grip with a fervent, shadowy hold and tantalize while dragging jagged teeth against throats — are often creatures that ignite distress in tender hearts). Although she has known it and swam in it and thrived in it her entire life, the Khaleesi would never claim to completely understand it. She can comprehend the shifting of the tides and the bitter taste of the salt on her lips and the familiar way the currents brush against her legs, but there are depths that will always be foreign to her.

    She has some faint ideas of what lurks in those dark shadows. Wishbone spent one long day trying to desperately reach the humpback whales that lingered just outside Tephra’s shallows, but her mahogany body had never been able to swim among their woeful songs. She’s also watched a pod of orcas — large, dark bodies sliding easily through the frigid waters — mercilessly hunt down a young, slick-bodied seal who had gotten separated from its mother. Among her more private memories the shape of a suave, dangerous kelpie comes to mind, fanged mouth gliding against the curve of her neck and leaving a trail of blood behind it.

    The queen smirks to herself at this last thought, nearly losing herself in the moonlight-soaked memory before reminding herself she must give a mature answer to Virgo. “I have some ideas.” She decides on this vague, albeit responsible, response before dragging the conversation away from her humid thoughts and toward a different secret. A sincere smile alights her face when Virgo replies with her own private memory.

    Wishbone is beginning to think there is much, much more that lies beneath the gray mare’s barbed spine than what she initially tells. “Was Eerie your mother?” In the moments between the foal exchange and her rise to queenship, Scorch had taught her charge to memorize the previous queens of the Amazons and the Leviathans. The mahogany can faintly remember the name Eerie tossed among the list of powerful Khaleesi’s in the past.

    To have a daughter of a Khaleesi of the Old back among the Leviathans is impressive and brings pride to warm Wishbone’s reckless heart. She takes a few steps away from the edge of the granite cliff, feeling another breeze sweep over their shoulders. Her amber eyes turn toward Virgo at her side, a soft smile dancing across her lips faintly.

    wishbone



    @[Virgo] / sorry this took me so long <3
    #6
    the first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
    the second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth.

    Fear is, in short, the one emotion that rules her life for as long as she cares to remember. Virgo was terrified that she wouldn’t be a fit mother for her son and so she set him free to become his own person. That was the greatest failure in her life and she tucks the memory deep within her bones where she doesn’t have to think of it anymore. Wishbone’s answer brings her back to the present and she watches the queen as she replies. There is a faint smile on the queen’s face but she decides not to pry into her personal life just yet.

    Her question, though, makes Virgo throw her head back as laughter fills her lungs for the first time in a long while. Eerie and Anarchist were the furthest things from mothers and yet they fulfilled the role better than the barbed girl ever did. But what could she possibly call them? Partner or lover seemed too soft for what they were but they were far from enemies. If she knew a word to describe obsession and violence then she would surely choose that title above all others. For her, there is no love without bloodshed and agony. She shakes her head no before looking back to Wishbone.

    No, Eerie was my... lover, I suppose you could say,” she answers with another short chuckle at the thought. “As was Anarchist. It’s a bit complicated, really.” Her cheeks grow warm with the confession and her gaze becomes focused on the line that marks the edge of the cliffs. No one had known of their relationship prior to this moment and she had never planned to share even the slightest detail. Still, an honest question deserves an honest answer, she supposes. Virgo avoids the queen’s eyes for a while and wonders if she could ever explain how the queens shared a body with one another back then. Magic created a messy history for the gray girl and she has never really thought of just how strange her tale is until now. It might make her head dizzy if she tried to chart out the path her life has taken to reach her arrival here in Nerine.

    What about you, Wishbone? Have you taken a consort of your own?” she asks with a brief glance in the other’s direction. The barbed girl preferred to keep her secrets safe and so she’s quick to change the subject to more comfortable topics, for her at least. She has noticed that Wishbone lacks any signs of pregnancy and she wonders if they might share the same flaws or if it’s a matter of choice for the young queen. Truth be told, carrying Pantheon had been one of the happiest times in her life. His little kicks and stretches within her womb were constant reminders that she was not alone so long as he was growing within her.
    Virgo
    you will ruin him and he will thank you; he will say please.
    @[Wishbone] -- it's all good! i loved reading it <3
    #7

    she’s got jumper cable lips
    she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death

    While fear is a drastic emotion, love is another.
    And while Wishbone does not feel fear so frequently, love is an entirely different story.

    That’s an interesting fact to consider, especially when her life has not been because of romantic love. Although her parents love each other, it is not with tender touches to soft places or sweet words murmured under moonlight. Wound and Warrick might exchange private glances and whisper secretive words, but her father’s heart ultimately belongs to a cloud-splashed mare with her eyes in the future. Tangerine’s presence in her parents’ relationship has always been prevalent and Wishbone grew up knowing the faces of her half-siblings.

    While Wound and Warrick’s hearts might long for only one other heart to nestle against, Wishbone’s is destined for more.

    She hadn’t realized she’d touched a tender nerve with her question, but the mahogany queen doesn’t regret it. In fact, her mouth curls into an amused expression at the way Virgo grows warm under the topic. Wishbone again wonders at the layers to this barbed mare; for this moment, she marvels at her ability to be equal parts tender and hard-shelled. “That sounds like a hell’uva good time to me.” Although her voice is dipped in the same colors that paint against her amused lips, there’s a strong amount of honesty to Wishbone’s words.

    Virgo is shifting the conversation back toward her again — yet still embellished with the questions of love — and a true laugh winds out of the mahogany’s throat. Although it might seem a simple question to answer, love is never simple. Wishbone mirrors her friend’s earlier statement, “It’s a bit complicated, really.” Faces and their assorted memories dance through her mind and she isn’t regretful to see how they are numerous like the nighttime stars.

    Wolfbane, with his gold-blue face and deeply-etched memories.
    Khaedrik, with his haunted eyes and deadly, mysterious shadow-creatures.
    Ivar, with his vibrant mouth and dark, invigorating gaze.

    There’s potential for more — for some feminine names and feminine memories — yet none of the individuals who draw themselves to her (and she, to them) are what she would call a consort. Such a word brings about thoughts of politics and, heaven forbid, children; those are thoughts that fill her with both a certain degree of dread and the overwhelming desire to laugh wildly into the wind. “I’m more of a free spirit,” Wishbone finally admits. Where Virgo’s eyes search the horizon, the mahogany’s eyes seek her gray face.

    “I’ve done pretty well avoiding the restrictions of a marriage so far.”

    wishbone



    @[Virgo] (;
    #8
    there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands - hands that map
    a communion in the cradle of your hips. hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
    Somewhere in her heart of hearts, she knows that she was born of a pure and perfect love between her mother and father. Their devotion knew the warmth of the sun as well as the precious words whispered beneath the moonlight. Still, she tells herself that her father was scum and that he deserved to burn for bringing life into the world after her mother passed. He tried to reason with her, to tell her that he felt so hollow he might crumble in on himself without Fleshlip to fill the void of his life once more. But the barbed girl does not allow pity to ever weaken her and so she cursed him in a fit of rage. Even now she dreams of the pain she would bestow upon him, though the words never find her lips. She lets his name die in her memories of him.

    Her bright brown eyes remain locked on anything and everything in the distance when she offers her opinion on the strange relationship she shared with the past queens. Again, her cheeks grow warm but she’s thankful that the subject has evolved into something more comfortable already. Laughter finds her voice when Wishbone also sidesteps the subject, and the sound is oddly warm for someone who seems so cold. She has only ever had one face to conjure up in her memories and it might make her head swim in confusion to take multiple possible lovers.

    She sees Wishbone search her face in her peripheral vision and she turns to match her stare. Her gaze is bold, unyielding as she begins to grow comfortable in the queen’s presence now. The idea of taking a new partner has not occurred to her yet, although the other girl seems eager for her next conquest. The gray girl keeps her heart locked away in some far-off tower where it cannot be stolen away again so easily. (Where it cannot be hurt so easily. She loves too hard and too fast.) If the Leviathan seeks to make its home in her, it will find only an eternal winter to make its nest within.

    Do you fear devotion, Wishbone?” she asks with something like fire behind her gaze now. She seeks only some admission of secrets again, some trust to serve as the foundation for their future – whatever it may hold. Perhaps she has asked too much of her new friend, though. A brief frown flashes across her lips before she speaks again. “Nevermind. Maybe you can tell me another time.

    But she supposes the seed is already planted. They’ll have their fun yet.
    Virgo
    he confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship
    and, oh, you put him on his knees.
    @[Wishbone]




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