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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


    could i use you as a makeshift gauge - Lothbrok
    #1
    Were he the humming sort, the piebald stallion would surely be carrying a cheerful tune as he picks his way along the white sand shore. Each hoofprint he leaves is damp, the saltwater still dripping from his thickly scaled fetlocks and his tangled hair. Ivar is not hungry for the first time in years, and it adds an uncharacteristic lightness to his step as he moves down the beach.

    There is no one in sight.

    That is to be expected, but Ivar pauses for the first time since leaving the water and his wife to look out at the waves and not simply the land.

    There.

    A few dozen meter out to sea is a flash of movement, dark and light that is not patterned in the signature palette of the orcas. One of his children. Ivar step into the shallows, moving toward them. Too large to be Kalliope, so one of the boys. Too agile for Crashe, Ivar thinks, and ducks beneath the turquoise water to swim out to @[Lothbrok] in the warm water.
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    #2
    The young grullo painted stallion moves beneath the waves. He is agile, quick witted, precise with his movements. Dark eyes dark trce the vibrations int he waters of fish, their silver forms slittery but glinting like treasure in the fractured sunlight. His grey hair floats out from his body list forest smoke, billowing outward as his forelegs curl to his chest. His body is shifted with the length of his tail floating in a weightless manner.

    He is an image of perfection. A form of flawless face, hard muscles stropped to his bones, a child of the kelpie king.

    A single dark eye shifts from his unsuspecting prey to a flicker of gold against the grey-green of the water.

    "Father." The young stallion acknowledges him with a smile, sharp and handsome, an image of a younger Ivar (a young god). He is respectful, offering his muzzle, a bit of mischief in his eye to finally see his father without the watchful eye of his mother on either of them. The fish are long gone now as the grullo male converses with his sire. Lothbrok is in quite awe, proud, that this was the man who's blood was in his veins.
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    #3
    Though Ivar is not given to reminiscence, he can recall several hunts with his son, the two of them working in concert to bring down prey. They had started small: little rock bass in the lakes and ponds of Loess and then - better - the prey of the open sea. Mackerel, tuna, swordfish, even sharks when they were especially daring (or hungry).

    These memories bring positive feelings, unusual simply for the fact that they center neither around fury nor lust, but rather a more complex sort of emotion that the kelpie rarely feels. It's pleasant, and on a lazy spring afternoon the kelpie stallion is in search of something to pass the time.

    "Have you been hunting lately?" He asks the smiling stallion as they pair of them brush noses in greeting.
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    #4
    @[Lothbrok] has been infected by the plague (rolled a 1).
    He will show symptoms (rolled a 4).
    He will express a trait (rolled a 3).
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