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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


    here we are in the heart of the darkness; Polaris
    #1

    Golden eyes watching our every move
    Losing time without the sun or moon

    He is exhausted. The last days have begun to take their toll upon him, sapping him of strength he had thought inexhaustible. But he has so much he must do yet. And so he continues on, ignoring his body’s warnings.

    He stumbles forward, frowning. Yellow eyes blink into the unfamiliar shadows of the pine wood. He had not intended to come here, yet somehow he had. Never before have the shadows refused to obey his whim. If he had paused to consider it, he might have realized how disease might sap one of strength. How that strength is so necessary to do what he must.

    But he does not pause to consider it. He does not recognize the symptoms for what they are, instead pushing ever onwards. Until even his invisible might cannot push him far enough.

    Shrinking into the cool comfort of the shadows, he peers uncertainly around him. Slipping through the welcome familiarity, he rounds a tree only to pause abruptly to avoid bumping into another. He steps quickly backwards, allowing his pitch dark frame to melt into the darkness of the mist, only his golden eyes blinking at her from the darkness.

    She is beautiful, a creature of subtle teal and purple with an undeniable air of fragility about her delicate form. The ephemeral touch of shadow marbles her skin, and for a moment Ether almost wishes he could touch her as they do.

    “Where am I?” he finally whispers, the reality of his situation intruding, dismissing those wayward thoughts. Refusing to allow the implications of those foreign impulses to settle.

    ether



    @[polaris]
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    #2
    Polaris
    It is night and daddy has disappeared to the borders of the forest, patrolling Taiga so that at her heart she is safe for the ones he considers his family. He was reluctant to leave them, is always reluctant to leave them, but their den is as safe as anywhere is these days. Thick tangles of tree and undergrowth, the mark of someone who has earth magic in their veins, she thinks, because there are other places that seem bare and lonely in comparison, still ruined from the day it came undone so long ago.

    Rian is with her, curled and asleep, so sweet when he makes those soft little snuffle sounds as his body relaxes, when he grunts and curls tighter in his bed of leaf-litter and the softest pine she had been able to find. She feels bad when she stands and uncurls her body from where it had rested around him like a reflective crescent moon, but she is always restless when Ruan is gone, always looking for him look before he should be back.

    She doesn’t go far, stays close enough that she can still hear the sleeping sounds of her little companion, close enough that she can nuzzle his cheek and kiss his brow if his dreams turn to nightmares without the heat of his mother to keep them at bay. Poor kid, he must miss her so much, must be so confused why she hasn’t come back yet. Even Polaris wonders at her absence, though she feels no sort of emotional connection to the amethyst woman.

    A sigh fills her chest as she turns her head to look out into the forest, dark with night and lit only by that faint, milky glow of the moon and her stars. She meant to breathe it out again so quietly, but suddenly there is a face staring back at her. A yelp escapes those twinkling teal lips, a sound like a small animal being strangled as she stumbles backwards in a motion that mirrors his exactly. Except where he disappears completely but for the glow of those eyes that might be stars fallen and capture within his face, she shines like surface of a sparkling pool, catching the light of every single star and reflecting it back again.

    His voice is quiet when he speaks though, somewhat gentle despite the way he seems like a creature escaped from a nightmare. So dark he has no form, no dimension. Nothing but a pair of strange gold moons bobbing softly in a face she cannot see. “You’re in Taiga,” she answers finally after so much silence woven between them, binding them closer, and then so softly, “why can’t I see you?”
    though i never needed any proof to trust the heart that beats inside of you
    Reply
    #3

    Golden eyes watching our every move
    Losing time without the sun or moon

    Taiga.

    He knows of it, of course. Had perhaps even passed through a time or two. But if he had, he had never stayed longer than a moment. For a breath of time, he wonders why the shadows had brought him here. Perhaps it had been purely coincidence. A fluke of fate.

    He should go, but his eyes settle on the woman before him, fixing there almost helplessly. He is so tired, and perhaps this would not be a terrible place to stop and rest. There is something about her that draws his curiosity anyway. Something that speaks to him, whispers for him to stay, just a little bit longer perhaps. It would make little difference in the grand scheme of things.

    Unless she should fear him, of course. He had startled her, her gentle squeak telling him he had taken her by surprise. But then, she had rather taken him by surprise too, so he could not fault her for it. Now though, she seems more curious than frightened. Perhaps she would not fear him then, would not demand he leave immediately.

    He watches her, unable to help himself. They way her skin shimmers in the dim light of the dying night is entrancing, in a lovely, ephemeral way. As though she might disappear at any moment, floating away one the barest breeze. A part of him wonders if he might catch her, hold her for just a moment. Not long, he thinks. She is like a shadow, not meant to be tethered or caged.

    He is not quite certain how to answer her question. How does one explain their very existence when one does not quite understand it themselves? Would she be frightened to know how very similar he and the shadows are?

    The silence stretches too long, and finally he forces himself to answer, still unsure what he might say. “I… am a shadow,” he offers rather lamely. “I think.” As though he might salvage such an impossible answer. He blinks at her for a moment, wondering if he had made any sense to her at all. “I’m Ether.”

    He offers her a name, little realizing how easily his explanation might confuse such thing. As though he truly is the ether he had been named for.

    ether

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