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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


    [open, possibly mature]► i saw death of a most uncommon nature
    #1

    Black as it was, depthless and without end: stretching infinitely towards the horizon line… the ocean rolled and its ebb and flow brought little more than the song of the rolling tide with it. Even painted with the myriad of stars above there was only darkness and endless void to accompany the moonlight that glinted on the peaks of small waves. Sand bled into soil and the water lapped it, stained and wetted the ground giving rise to a salted but loamy smell of primordial land, one accompanied by the faint undertone of dew and wild sage. This wild was consumed not suddenly, but slowly, as the eerie fog rolled across the waters and poured itself onto the beach at the edge of the expansive field. Through each stalk of grass, and through each swaying plant it bled and wound itself: touching and combing through like a lover’s fingers toying with hair. 

    Patches of snow began to wheeze and crack, ice forming on the surface and glinting like the eyes of a thousand unseen creatures all peering out from the utter black. non-Euclidean shapes haunted the shadows and the ground, swaying and moving in such ways that the mind tormented itself to find the truth in the echo and verve, in the ripples that felt like whatever these were they were there… and yet not at all. Such it was that from the waters there was shape and form, and sound akin to hooves breaking the surface of the water. Familiar and yet not so, it was shaped like a horse; but one that too perfect. Its coat too smooth, figure too lean and muscled, too much life and at the same time movements that were jaunty and sudden… like a corpse in its death throes.

    From it’s maw teeth could be seen beneath the lips and water coughed and spilled forth, choking and gasping: as if fresh from birth. Shaking and chilled the salt clung to its body but not enough to prevent ice as it formed and crusted the shaggy fur. Perfection began to change and where smooth it had been, now fur coated it and color too became more notable: gray and black, patched and strange. The face half white and split perfectly so; but it’s eyes, oh those eyes… they remained as they had been. Grey-green and smoldering, the thick lashes darkening the already bizarre stare and where whites may’ve have been there just seemed to be black… but only until the head was turned and then: the black was no more.

    Rasping and spitting it carried forward beyond the edge of the water and into the grasses, crickets and birds: night songs echoing in ancient ears. What beauty it saw it watched with careless attention, instead it stopped after a time to chew and to eat… to taste the tang of the grass and recall the clover and its texture, memories danced in its mind and for a moment it considered the world around it with little more than the affections a spider gives to a fly. It lifts its head, bends the neck and cracks the old bones: its shoulders rolling back and like a feline predator it moves with a sway in its hips and a pace that spoke of leisure. It stops beneath a sliver of moonlight, waits and lingers before stepping into the light- the body bathed in the glow and all the curves given shadow and shape.

    It speaks to itself, gruff and hoarse at first, touched with the accent of a land long list to time. ‘Yidhra.’ it breathes, a name… a word: a title. The taste of it is sour and mealy, it comes with the scent of decayed fish and rotted wood, and its texture is something between putrefying meat and maggots writhing in on themselves… it recalls that this was the name of it’s grave, where the corpse was supposed buried and so it names itself this. 

    Alone, it gathers itself and it recognizes itself as she, as Yidhra The head tossed and eyes peering into the firefly clouds dancing over scattered snow, watching the shadows and gloom: and all the life that wandered the night.

    y i d h r a
    of all living things only she escaped death, escaped birth.
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    #2


    Nightfall has become his favorite, more oil-black shadows to crawl among, to hide in, bathe in. He moves through the darkness without total silence, but close enough for his considerable bulk. The crunch of snow every few steps betray him well enough to grab the attention of anyone listening.

    The mists that reach out and molest the dead stalks of grass, creeping toward him, they feel cool against his host skin. It makes his skin prickle and a shiver happens somewhere in his soul, outwardly he only lifts his head and quirks a single white ear. He stops at the edge of it, but he can hear the choke and crash of what’s unfolding beyond the misty veil.

    He steps into it and as he does it fades. What it reveals doesn’t shock him; a smirk bends the corners of his dark lips. It couldn’t simply just be a horse, he guesses, and still he takes another step and another step. A mare, he ponders, or something that looks an awful lot like one…

    Quite…” He snickers, “..an entrance.” He pretends to peer around to the lapping waves behind. “Staying or just passing through?” Still his crooked grin prevails, his teal eyes glinting against the little bit of light cast by a skinny sliver of moon.



    chemdog
    astra inclinant, sed non obligant.



    @[yidhra] <3
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    #3

    Snow had blanketed portions of the ground, and areas tattered by discolored plants and bare brush seemed to glisten with touches of ice. Low fog and steam bled into one another above the earth, the frozen soil cracking and breaking: its being tormented by the season and worse yet when the harsh hoof impressed upon it. Lacking blood there was no puddle of red that came to fill the hoof shaped void, but rather there was an ichorous darkness where shadow greedily melded into the shape and stretched itself out like a quilt. An endless myriad sky of stars, of emptiness in the space between… and in them there was only a sliver of the moon: thus it was no surprise to Yidhra that the earth’s screams subsided if but for a moment and her shivering and shaking of branches manifested into a great sigh- pained and sorrowed.

    Disharmonious and sharp the wind pierced her ears and the sigh came and went with it, but what did not was the patterned crunch of footsteps. The sheer volume of them suggested much and yet? There was nothing that beckoned her to turn immediately. Ears swirled and she listened, yes she did that, but more so Yidhra began to dream… to sway in idle motion and close those bold teal eyes. No smile crossed her lips either, and the face was sobered as it could be- her dream vivid and wild: the flash of memories fading and as they did a feigned laughter carried itself from her lips. “Waking in the ocean, a reef returned to the sea and lands empty and diseased.” she speaks, raspy from the damage to her throat; but nonetheless her voice is smoky and deep: accented in such a way that the words almost a song.

    Eerie and cold she begins to turn her body in the shadow of the night, to slide a spidery leg across the other and roll her hips: to stretch the sunken flesh and ancient muscle. Her body is sore and stiff, not at all smooth, in fact the motions seem puppeted and mechanical, corpselike in their own way. Air is drawn in and her nostrils flare, the smell of salt and another curling together as she seeked to stare deep and long into his eyes, her own unblinking. “Pressure and darkness, what light existed was that which grew on creatures of the depths.” hissing for a moment a cough forces its way and her salt-laden lungs heave. From the black lips a trickle of blood stings her wrinkled tongue and decorates the snow beneath her maw. 

    Lack ceremony, she leans down to taste and bite at the very snow, the water not drank but passed through her teeth and maw before being spit upon the earth. Metallic tangs of blood washed away and the smell of the sea fading. Through she hears him, her mind is foggy and her eyes roll before she resolves to stare, unblinking and focused. “Where am I?” she asks plainly, her body shifting to face him and head raised. A creature of dark skin and splattered whites and grays, of teal eyes and an expression hardened; but curious. Shifting her weight the legs stretch and her body moves, shoulders rolled back and the arch deepened as she rolls her hips: stopping a distance from him and this brief sliver of light. 

    Yidhra


    @[Chemdog]
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    #4

    The moonlight offers only a faded view of him even to those with sharp vision, the cloud’s shadows rolling overhead to make him flicker faintly while he watches her. He’s a little creeped out, if he is being honest, but nothing about him portrays it. She bleeds, bites it, spits it; bizarre. When her eyes settle onto him he internally shivers a little, but forces himself to perk up and walk forward.. He peels out of the shroud to meet her closing of distance between them with a little of his own, despite his immediate apprehension.

    Even the wind moans in an eerie fashion it’s been doing the entire time. This particular part of the beach seems to be staying misty, fingers of fog creeping around their ankles. Everything becomes coated in a sparkling layer of frost, even their breath curls from their nostrils in frozen white plumes.

    “Where am I?”

    Most of her talking up to now has appeared (to him) as incoherent or mumbling something he could not quite decipher. Admittedly he was quite lazy in trying to puzzle out random spooky strangers on the beach at night, but, it was the Field and he was trying to keep busy lately. Not to mention he was really hoping for a doe-eyed mare looking for a warm shoulder to lean on, or someone to snuggle under.This…does not appear to be that – but interesting none-the-less.

    He lets the question smolder for a moment, mixing with the ghostly surroundings already afoot. His white ears twist, one back and one just leaning out. Not the underworld, sorry..? This answer presses at his lips but he swallows it politely and says this instead, “Beqanna.” His voice is deep and without cracking, like a growl drawn up from the gallows of one’s chest. “One of its eastern shores, to be exact,” He flicks his nose to the darkness opened up beyond the shore, what lies rolling on in vastness after it, “and that is the Field.



    c h e m d o g

    in absentia luci, tenebrae vincunt






    @[Yidhra] <3
    Reply
    #5

    Faded and fickle, no matter, the slivers of silvery light give the illusion of the subtle line to edges where he ends and the shadows begin: lines that she stares at and watches, notes their bizarre curves and natural geometry. There is a period of time in this observation that she inhales and her sunken skin puffs up, the bones in chest visible even beneath the shaggy fur; but its not an unnatural smoke, nothing magical or impossible that she exhales, just seawater trapped in her lungs and spat out in finality… black only because the darkness is so pervasive. 

    The tilting head is craned in a manner that when shadows obscure parts of her skin it seems to bend at angles impossible for an equine, yet, she- it, the creature called Yidhra… she smiles faintly. Black lips drawn back and her ears twitching as they part a sea of inky black and shaggy hair.

    He speaks, and she looks around: her teal eyes switching from the curves to the painting around them… to dark beaches and the start of a field- to fireflies and the sound of crickets. Snow, too, keeps her attention; but she dismisses it when the spring breezes are beginning and the faint scent of life curls into her nostrils.

    “Ah, I recall it,” she begins to speak, raspy and deep. “The name, but, not the place. Never my home, I believe, it seems fair in a way I am here now. When the land is in rebirth and the flowers grow upon the corpses… worms and beetles feasting.” her pause is intentional and she turns her attentions back to Chemdog with those underfed and sickly features suddenly coming into full view.

    The moonlight drapes itself over her and the sharp bones in her hips are visible, the impossibly sunken in ribcage and the thing figure of famine and death. Shaggy and tattered, the ageless creature stretches its body and legs especially, lifting the head and rising to full height… though smaller than him significantly, she still grew several inches. With confidence and cracking bones Yidhra remained where she was, her imperious gaze lingering on the slightest hint of his curves and her smile fading to a sobered expression.

    “Fields are often where those who have not, wait to have; but also where those who can steal away all the things they wish to possess. Covetous in nature are you? Or perhaps there is something else.” fog and mist are natural, the billows of it rising and stretching out around them both, and silence begins to settle into the world around them. “Yidhra, is a name you may use to address me. What name may I address you with?”

    And there she lingered, questioning and waiting. 

    Yidhra



    @[Chemdog] I am so sorry it took so long<3 work killed me.
    Reply
    #6
    Hey sweetie, I'M REPLYING TO THIS ASAP.
    i'm so sorry it's been forever and ever.

    <3

    i love this character so much. @[Yidhra]
    buy the ticket, take the ride.
    —  Hunter S. Thompson


    ______________________________________

    snowphish, city, oleandar, wrena, kota, let, seasick
    chemdog, klaus, padmé, fenwe, claudia, mourna
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