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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


    all the beautiful conditions of a man up in flame; shiya
    #1

    desire consumes me like a fire consumes me

    It seems like another lifetime ago when he first met Shiya.

    He had been living in the Gates, and she had been visiting, trying to find a home. What had followed had been easy conversation as she had asked of his past and he had shared his story with her—at least pieces of it. He had not known that she was a mole, brought forth with a magician’s help. He had never known. So her memories of her are fond and when he sees her in the meadow, the sunlight glinting off her scales, his gold-flecked eyes warm with recognition. “Shiya,” her name comes easily to him, as he walks up to her, his handsome face washed clean and open. “It has been so long since that day in the Gates.”

    So much time has passed.

    So much has happened.

    He remembers her last words to him (Please don’t forget me.) and if it brings a pang to his heart, an ache that had spread in him even then, it doesn’t show. Instead he reaches over, closing the distance between them with ease. “I have not forgotten you,” his whiskey voice is low and something stirs in the back of his mind as puzzle pieces click into place. She bears such a striking resemblance to Vulgaris, to his great niece who he had recently picked up from Tephra’s shores, but Magnus doesn’t comment on it.

    It is not uncommon for family members to spread across Beqanna.

    Instead he looks for her serpentine eyes, studying them quietly for a moment. “How have you been?” He remembers her fears, her struggle with memory, but he doesn't mention such things now. Instead, he just gives her a small smile, the wind pushing the tangled mess of his forelock across his forehead to hang on the opposite side of his heavy-jawed head, and he remains silent, content to be in her presence.

    good shouldn’t need to tempt us above



    @[Shiya]
    [Image: gqYjsHr.png]
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    #2
    Deep down all you want is love
    The pure kind we all dream of


    Despair.

    Her life’s fuel is now her son’s name. It’s so perfect how his name mirrors the upheavals of her life, and how his birth is a somber matter for the family. What began as something beautiful spiraled in whirlwind out of control. In the Pampas, Vulgaris coddles Leliana and their children, throwing Shiya into the plagued wilderness with her - their - child. In reality, she should be accustomed to this lifestyle, but it’s more painful with the boy nestled against her side. Even now, she wonders if it would behoove them to meet their demise instead of one day facing the truth of Vulgaris and his role in this.

    Her mind sinks beneath the waves, into the dark depths where Pangea had fallen. Maybe she could visit there again – under the ocean – and bring her son. It could be peaceful looking up and watching the last of their air bubbles swim to the surface. They would be done then with the cruelties of the world.

    They would have each other forever.

    Shiya doesn’t realize how absently she is ruffling Despair’s mane when she hears her name. It’s the life preserve she needed to extract her from an ocean of suicidal ideations. ”Hmm?” But she is rapidly blinking away the haze of her thoughts to look at a face long lost in her memories. ”Magnus,” his voice comes unbidden to her lips like it has been only a mere few days since they last met. ”Wow, yes. So many years.” Back then, she had briefly taken interest in the Valley’s affairs, but it was short-lived. It seems she isn’t destined for life in a kingdom.

    But is she really meant for anything?

    A breath catches in her throat, surprised that he remembers both her and her parting words. It softly pulls on her heart, stirring it to patter sweetly in her chest. Shiya thought herself to be numb by now, destroyed by her lifelong torment, but the smile he ignites says otherwise.

    ”Ever a charmer,” a soft, tumbling laughter suppresses her previous grief, pushing it out of her mind even if only for the moment. How is it possible that he is able to return and part the looming, dark clouds of her thoughts? It’s effortless for him. Every sinking feeling retreats when their eyes lock – her emerald to his gold – but then she looks away and down at her child. ”Despair,” it almost seems like a response to her wellbeing until she elaborates, ”This is my son, Despair.” Behind her plastic smile, there is undoubtedly sadness that poisons her blood and shadows her reptilian face. Her gaze wavers, reflecting her inner conflict as she introduces the boy with a honeyed voice. Shiya glazes over Magnus’ question, referring to her son instead of admitting how poor her life has always been, and how she expects it to always be.

    For a long while, she steadies her attention on her son. A child should bring joy, but when she peers down there is an awful emptiness in her gut.
    She will hold onto him – the only foal she has nurtured – but he is a painful reminder.

    With a slow, contemplative blink, Shiya returns the question to Magnus. ”You look well,” she begins as her eyes lift again to his, ”How are you?” Better than me, she quietly hopes. Unlike her, however, Magnus is able to smile with his entire being. He is able to open his heart and arms. He can love and swoon and bring joy.

    He is everything she isn’t, or at least, that’s how she sees him whenever her eyes flicker across the storytelling edges of his face and scars along his body. He is perfect.

    SHIYA

    But we cannot escape the past,
    so you and I will never last

    original html by Jassal


    @[magnus]
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    #3

    desire consumes me like a fire consumes me

    If only Magnus could know her thoughts—know of how she dreams of a graveyard in the water. He could warn her against such things, tell her of how the saltwater had filled his lungs, how his limbs had grown heavy with it, weighing him down and dragging him into the murky depths. He could have told her how it has changed him, altered the fabric of his being, making time more slippery, his emotions more chaotic.

    He could have warned her that the pain of this life pales compared to that of such death.

    Still, he doesn’t know of the fantasies of escape that rattle in the back of her mind, the desperate search to find relief, to feel release, and he can only hold her serpentine gaze, studying the unreadable depths of it. She compliments him and he laughs, handsome face warming, loosening with the ease of her company. “I am many things,” he teases, humor in his gold-flecked gaze, “but charming is not one of them.”

    He breaks her gaze only to look down to her son, studying his features for a moment, eyes flicking up and catching the forced nature of her smile. “Handsome boy,” he comments in his whiskey voice, wondering where the lad’s father was—if he was even in the picture. Such things are met with hesitation though, something in him recognizing that she would not wear such a sorrow if the family was whole, happy.

    At ease in such situations, the grief as familiar as his own pulse, Magnus dips his head down, looking at the boy in the eye, crooked smile lifting. “What a pleasure it is to meet you, Despair.” The name holds strange on his tongue, almost a haunting sign of things to come, but he doesn’t comment on it, leaving Shiya her own devices and own methods of raising her family. He winks at the boy before lifting his head again, bringing the warmth of his attention back to the mare by his side.

    “I have been well,” he comments, wondering at the layers that make up such a statement. How do you tell someone, an acquaintance really, that you have given up your the anchor around your ankles, that you have given yourself permission to live your life according to your own moral compass? How do you tell someone how easier it is to breathe when you no longer tie yourself up with other’s expectations?

    He doesn’t know and he doesn’t try, although perhaps she can see such buoyancy in the shifting of his body, the ease of his lacerated lips curving in the corners. “You always look good, Shiya,” his voice is warm and honeyed, something playful in his eyes that he hopes will ease the sorrow that blankets her.

    good shouldn’t need to tempt us above



    @[Shiya]
    [Image: gqYjsHr.png]
    Reply
    #4
    Deep down all you want is love
    The pure kind we all dream of


    Shiya watches with a gleam in her viridian eyes how Magnus dips his head down to her boy. There’s an easiness in the way he confronts the two of them, addressing her as though years haven’t separated their last engagement. Despite the sorrow shackled around her ankles, Shiya manages to still smile. Even as her mind continues to swim with ideations of suicide, Magnus provides enough distraction to talk her off the ledge. His whiskey voice, husky as it has ever been, is a balm to her pain. His company gives her hope before she catches herself.

    Always a foolish girl.

    The muscles of her jaw coil beneath her taut skin as she clenches uncertainly. It would be easier to run away and avoid his warm gaze, to rip off her ears so she didn’t have to listen to the honeyed words that touch his lips. It’s so easy to fall into a spell around him, but she fights it with her entire soul because there is no such thing as true happiness, fairytale endings, or love. Friendship? She doesn’t even know the word.

    Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she manages to sweetly thank him although she has never thought herself to look good. Maybe, perhaps when she was young she had days of feeling fierce and beautiful, but that was before she was beaten down and torn apart and a mother to rogue, defected children. That was before life destroyed her and back when she thought she could ever have a life story like mother and father.

    ”I suppose the plague has not yet touched you?” She is immune, but her lips do not form the confession. It would tie into a question of how, and she would be forced to admit that she helped to resurrect Pangea for Carnage. Would that make her terrible? Still a monster? There’s nothing worse or lower than where her life is now. For this reason, she almost does, in fact, tell Magnus, but something holds her back. Perhaps it’s the boy innocently peering up at her. Willing to refocus the conversation away from herself, she asks, ”With the Gates gone, where are you now?”

    SHIYA

    But we cannot escape the past,
    so you and I will never last

    original html by Jassal


    @[magnus]
    Reply
    #5

    desire consumes me like a fire consumes me

    It’s easy to feel the tension in her, the way it knots in her muscles and catches her breath in her throat and although she is excellent at hiding it, he still feels the hints of it in their interaction. He wonders at what causes such grief, for such a vibrant mare to look so beaten, but he doesn’t ask—not yet and certainly not in front of her child. If she wanted to share such truths with him, it could be during another time.

    For now, he remains content to do his best to alleviate the shadows in her smile and bruises in her eyes.

    There’s so much unsaid between them, so many undercurrents of conversation, and he tilts his head to consider her, gold-flecked eyes warming. “Not yet,” he says simply, roguish smile curving his lip in one corner. “But it’s only a matter of time.” He wasn’t exactly hiding from it. Wasn’t exactly running in the other direction. If he kept finding his way to unsafe lands, it would catch him eventually. He shrugs a scarred shoulder, unbothered by the truth. “It’s worth the risk for conversations such as this.”

    Magnus has experienced so much in his life—so much pain and hurt—that he struggles to find fear of a disease in him. He had his immortality and his safe home. He could deal with whatever agony accompanied the sickness. He couldn’t deal with months upon months of quarantine.

    “And yourself?” he asks simply. “You don’t look sick.”

    Sad, yes. Exhausted, certainly. Sick? Not anymore, at least.

    She pivots the conversation though and his face darkens just a little. “I miss the Gates,” he confesses, even though he can recognize now that it had been a weight for him—an anchor. “But in the aftermath of the Reckoning, the faeries gifted Offspring and I with Tephra.” He glances in its direction. “That’s home now. It’s beautiful.” He looks back to her, to her child. “You should both come visit. It’s safe there.”

    And they both looked like they could use a safe place just about now.

    good shouldn’t need to tempt us above



    @[Shiya]
    [Image: gqYjsHr.png]
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