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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


    i don't have my head on straight [starsin]
    #1

    In the long run, Icicle Isle means nothing to him.

    He leaves the land as easily as he had come—by swimming the narrow channel that separates the isle from the rest of Beqanna, arriving on the coast somewhere between Nerine and Taiga. He does not fear the plague as he straddles the border of the two kingdoms on the way to the Meadow, and though it takes him most of the day and part of the night to arrive in the neutral grounds, he is no wearier than when he began as he settles along the edge of the Meadow.

    The final vestiges of the illness that had taken ahold of him have finally faded away, and he feels stronger than ever as he flexes his new ability. He watches the grass under his hooves wither away with a mere thought and can’t help but to smile darkly. It is not much of a power, he has to admit, but the things he could learn to do with it... he could eventually destroy all of the flora within an entire kingdom with merely a thought. Death escapes him, so it’s not like he would need it to survive anyways. He could gather the gifted, the immune; these thoughts of his are delicious and his eyes shine feverishly.

    He is not alone long, however—no one is ever alone long in these parts. He hears the hooves shuffling behind him and turns, eyes falling on a girl who’s color is indistinguishable from the inky darkness. He cannot tell her age by looking at her, but she is lanky enough to be younger than his newest granddaughter—though all of the horses in his family are so heavily built, who is to be completely sure?

    “Hello,” he says gruffly, tossing his head to clear his tangled forelock from his eyes. “What do you want?”

    OXYTOCIN

    I don't have my head on straight



    @Starsin
    immune.
    Reply
    #2
    do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

    She grew bored easily. That’s what she told herself, at least. In reality, spending too much time in one place frightened her. Growing attached to anything — a land, another soul — was simply asking to be let down. At just over a year old, she had already mastered the art of leaving. She was building her reputation of being unreliable and delusive, even if it was not her intention. Being the foolish girl she was, it was easier to jeopardize her own happiness rather than let the universe do it first.

    Stealing away from Ophanim — again — she had come to the meadow. Her perfect angel boy deserved much better than a self-destructive girl like her, but of course she wouldn’t give him up. She would cling to him until her last breath died on her lips, even if it meant slowly killing him along with her.

    The moonless sky is crowded by clouds, rendering the land far darker than usual. She slips amongst the tall grasses, the cool autumn breeze lifting and twirling the inky tendrils of her mane. Piercing through the darkness, her eyes settle on a stallion — clearly older than her, but that does little to deter her. She is already gliding towards him, the shadows muting her sterling silver coat and the pale dapples that cover her. What little threads of moonlight manage to strain through glint off the cobalt blue of her irises, and despite his less than friendly greeting her pale lips have curved into a simper. ”What do I want?” She echoes his gravelly question with her lyrical tones, a lilting laugh spilling into the dark expanse that lays between them,”I haven’t decided yet.”

    His thoughts, though indistinct, give her a cold and uninviting impression. While she is not bothered by it, she chooses to not invade his personal space the way she may have with someone else. ”My name is Starsin.”



    @[Oxytocin]
    Reply
    #3

    What do any of them want, truly? A place to lay their heads, nourishment, the company of another when the nights are long and the days are cold, certainly. But it goes deeper than that; most of them long for companionship at all times, never wanting to be alone. Some of them want to make the world a better place for everyone involved. Others still are selfish, only thinking for themselves. What do you want is such an uninteresting question, since everyone wants so many different things.

    Oxytocin only wants to watch the entire world burn.

    Chaos is where he is the happiest; wars and battling give him a joy that is unrivaled, aside perhaps from the company of a lovely woman. He remembers the days when Lokii and Flamevein flanked him wherever he went, a pyrokinetic on one side and a powerful illusionist on the other. Everyone had thought of them as cocky back then, but he knows that the three of them had made quite the threatening trio, and even now he longs for those days again. He was at his strongest then, with the Valley behind him and the whole world laid out before him like some tantalizing buffet.

    As things do, everything had eventually come crashing down and while he had been a furious child at the time, he has made peace with it. He hadn’t been strong enough to lead the Valley then; he’d had supporters but not the following he needed, and he had been an arrogant, angry child. No wonder Vanquish had despised him—he despises himself, looking back, even though they are still fond memories. He has grown since then, become stronger and more powerful, and maybe one day he can even take what he wants once more.

    The girl draws closer and he notes that she is even younger than young Dawn, still lanky and about as graceful as a yearling can be. She may sound mature beyond her age, but Oxy remembers the cockiness of youth well. “You don’t have to decide now,” he tells her, dark eyes meeting her cobalt ones, “but if you wait too long you won’t even recognize yourself.”

    She offers him a name—Starsin—and his eyes trace the constellations on her side, not hungrily but curiously. Despite his bone-white mane and tail, he is not used to unusually colored horses, though he supposes they are probably quite common these days. “I am Oxytocin,” he offers finally.

    OXYTOCIN

    I don't have my head on straight



    @Starsin
    immune.
    Reply
    #4
    lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me, do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

    He is of older blood. She can hear it in his thoughts, the way he flips through  the thumbnails of his past, reminiscing. She wonders if she will ever be like that; if someday all she will have are memories of what she used to be. However, that is a long way off. Freshly two years old, still ripe with her youth; not even into her prime. It’s not something she worries about, yet. The blank pages of her life are still laid before her, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to fill those pages to the brim.

    But she picks out something from his thoughts – something that stands out like a beacon, that makes her dark blue eyes search his. Chaos. War. Both of those things are blossoming in the south; perhaps slightly due to her nurturing, but she wouldn’t dare to take full credit, not yet; not unless it turned out in her favor. She is quiet, though, for now, keeping her thoughts inside, even though the smile that now slides across her lips has a bit more weight behind it. ”Oxytocin,” she repeats his name, and she likes that it sounds and tastes like lust on her tongue. Kind of like hers.

    She slides past him, letting the glow of her dapples press into his skin just briefly, cocking her head backwards as she croons quietly into the night air, ”You crave chaos and war. I have a proposition for you, should you want to accept.” Her body arcs then, curving back around to face him, that same almost haughty simper perched on her lips and accompanied by the inquisitive tilt of her head. ”Come to Loess. We’ve got something we’re working on.”



    @[Oxytocin]
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