• 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


    You put your cigarette out on my face; any
    #1
    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.
    She has always preferred solitude during the autumn season, safe from prying eyes and unwarranted touches. Beqanna during the breeding season would never be a word that she belonged to and she knew this all too well, accepted her fate with a quiet resignation. Virgo still remembers carrying Pantheon and feeling his soft kicks within her as a constant reminder that she was capable of giving life to something. The memory aches in her chest and she finds herself wandering in the cold rain without much concern for her surroundings. Maybe a disguise would make her feel better? She could pretend to be someone else, someone who doesn’t spend each day in her memories.

    Her legs grow longer and her torso grows slender, lovely in ways that she has never been or even dreamed of being. Virgo makes her cheekbones higher and more defined as she’d once seen on other girls. The once pale gray coat brightens to a gold champagne with little freckles around her nose, and then she supposes that she is satisfied with herself for now. It feels nice to be tall, she thinks to herself with something like a smirk across her lovely face. The smile even reaches her eyes so that she looks warm and welcoming for once rather than annoyed. This, she thinks, is the face of someone who could be loved.

    Still, she laments that this dreary day is spent alone. Wishbone had left Nerine in the care of someone else and secluded herself somewhere far from here. Virgo was finally beginning to warm up to the young queen, too. Sure, her heart had sworn off love and nailed its door shut until Eerie decided to return from whatever heaven she reigned from, but there was some spark that had made its home within her breast. The embers of her quiet affection still burn slowly there. But time waits for no one and so she roams once more.

    The barbs along her spine are slick from the rain and seem a little longer, a little more menacing in this form despite the sleek beauty of the rest of her. Her eyes are still bright amber as they search the forests for some solace from the rain but there are only trees offering half-hearted protection. She shrugs a smooth shoulder and continues on her way. Either she’ll end up back in Nerine or she’ll find something to keep her preoccupied, she supposes.
    Virgo
    he confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship
    and, oh, you put him on his knees.

    someone please love this crybaby, lol.
    Reply
    #2

    His woman had left Nerine. His woman had been the queen to fill the iron throne from the pied daughter of Nayl.

    There was a sickening ache in his dark heart for Hestia.

    He never allowed their child, Crucified, to witness the harness that filled the thudding vessels that moved his blood though his great form and he foolishly thought he would find the answer to why in the vastness of the misted forest. Birds call overhead with a shrill rapture to pierce the sky and shatter the solitude. A lavender grey eye slides upward as his lips press together in a slight grown upon his great, dark face.

    One heavy, feathered limbs draws after the other as he moves slowly. He had walked this path before when the dark mare had caught his eyes. She had been a radiant thing in this lackluster world and he had been foolish but he had loved the moody mare...but now she is gone, no scent, no sign. A low sigh slips from between the scarred lips as she knows Cru is off playing with the other children and it gave the man time to think. Nerine was no longer is his him (or so he thinks). There had been a change of hands too frequently in the last 2 years. He was nothing more than a scent amongst others that moved through the once great land like a revolving door.

    A champagne mare stands not far off, she is pricked by speared edges, armored against the world or even perhaps herself. Murc does not stop his slow procession towards her. A pale lilac eye slides towards her beneath the tangle of his dark brow as he grunts softly and dipping his head.  She is a pretty thing, young and filled with spite. Murc suddenly feels old near her vibrancy (though he is perhaps only 9 these days) but her lovely form surely drew the eye of plenty of suitors.

    "Be careful out here, mare." The words roll like thunder in the distance, low and offering the promise of something stronger than what meets the eye. He makes sure to side step her barbs, careful to not add to the scars upon his body, as he speaks to her with a steady gaze of his lavender grey eyes.

    MURC

    just as i can be so cruel



    @[Jassal]
    Reply
    #3
    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.
    Perhaps she has been proud from the day she was born but she can’t seem to recall that long ago. There are memories of being around three, of being old enough to be on her own and thinking that that meant she understood the world. Everclear tried to set her down the right path in life but she laughed in his face when his kingdom crashed around him. She mouthed off to anyone and slandered kings with no thought for the consequences – though when consequences came knocking she was quick to answer them too. Her heart swells with pride knowing that her mouth and her anger knew no defeat.

    Her ear swivels to catch his words of warning and she turns her head to match his gaze, daring him to speak further. She’s older now, wiser than before but still headstrong and ready to take on the world.

    I have nothing that might interest anyone this season,” she says with something like a snarl. Her biting words blend the sharp tone and a feminine purr to her voice. In truth, it is not his words that upset her, but rather their waste on someone like her. This body is a desert and she is as empty as the winter fields. Life was never meant to find its place within her womb and the knowledge of this has birthed a fury in her that refuses to settle. It smolders quietly in her heart and burns like a thousand white hot suns galaxies away.

    He reminds her of Everclear in that he means so well but says things she’d rather not hear. Neither of them is her father and they could never be Chernobyl. Neither of them would want to be.

    My name is Virgo, not mare.

    Her bright eyes remain narrowed but the front she puts on is more hostile than she truthfully is. She’s got a world of hurt all pent up inside of her and it breaks through at any given opportunity. If she were a little more self-aware, she would apologize for taking this all out on him. But she’s only vaguely aware of the demons in her closet and she prefers to keep it that way. Perhaps they can forge a friendship despite the way she bristles so easily.
    Virgo
    he confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship
    and, oh, you put him on his knees.
    @[Murc]
    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)