• Logout
  • 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]  the body in the funhouse
    #1
    The large animal ambled fluidly through the darkness, his own dark bodice slinking amongst the shadows. Moonlight cast its ghost-like fingers over the land he was walking, paling the already white landscape. Plumes of cold breath rose from his nostrils as he calmly exhales into his surroundings - honey eyes dancing exuberantly ahead of him. He moved with confidence, though he wasn't overly expressive, and there was a certain element of curiosity that softened his facade. Black hooves clattered against frozen rock, creating echoes that he imagined could travel some distance before falling silent. The quiet that surrounded him was pregnant with possibility. Flicking his ears to and fro, the stallion listened for any signs of life around him and he couldn't deny the possibility that there were many in this land, as their scent hung thickly in the cold air. He imagined a large herd roaming this area. A healthy land, if he may assume. 

    There were questions beginning to prickle in his mind - pertaining as to where he was, and to whom he would find here. Friend? Foe? With how strongly their perfumes swirled in the air, he doubted it would take much time before he found out. 

    Approaching a shallow cleft in the ground, the footsteps of the black stag halt as he lowers his powerful skull to inspect the cracked ground with his flared nostrils. A thick curtain of black mane falls into his light brown eyes, making him appear much wilder in nature than what probably was normal for him. He remained quiet now, and still. The sounds of nighttime fill his ears - snow falling from branches landing softly in fresh powder, the odd predatory bird announcing its kill call and the echoes that come with it. The brute raises his head, dark tresses remaining on his face. The urge to call out into the night came over him swiftly, but he thwarted his own idea with a flick of his black tail. It would make him too obvious, and as confident as he was in himself, he had to accept the idea that he was vulnerable in a new terra. So, he stayed quiet, with only the pattern of his soft breath tangible in the quietness.
    #2
    The apricot girl dances through the snow and moonlight. Clouds of breath come from nostrils that flare, as brown eyes shine bright like stars made of two fistfuls of dirt. She looks around, happy to be out in the night though she has no escort and is alone. But the girl is unafraid as a dark mop of wind-tousled curls sway beneath two spiraling points of horn - she is not without her own form of protection, even practicing a fencing maneuver and a feint. 

    Clumps of snow fly up from underfoot as she spins and dances and discovers - all in the same breath! - that she is another land. This is not the Pampas, but some place of hill and rock. Oh! She is in the Southern kingdom, and she is not surprised as a smile graced her lips. It took her a moment to recognize the landscape lit by the moon and draped in the trappings of snow and ice. Wander couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her mouth, as she spun around again, throwing up the snow with her happy feet.

    She was content in being alone; could entertain herself though she had the night and this land to do that for her. So she danced and ran until spent and blowing, she came across a set of tracks that were as fresh as hers had been. Nose to the snow, she followed them until she came to an abrupt halt before a big black stallion. She threw up her head but offered him a smile beneath her impressive horns and dark messy hair. “I see I’m not the only one about tonight,” she murmured softly, just a girl and one unafraid at that!

    @[Loic] ❤️
    #3
    @wander

    Loic

     


    It is some time before other sounds disturb the dark stag from his quiet pondering; it is the laughter of a child that brings him back into his headspace. Quickly his ears flick to and fro on top of his heavy crown,  and he can hear them in the distance. A child? Out so late, he thinks quietly. 

    The youngling’s scent rides on the cool air surrounding them, reaching him before her form comes into view. She is full of life, this the stallion is sure of, and he curiously searches with his honeyed eyes. The white layers of snow cushion whatever footsteps she takes so he does not hear what direction she will approach from. But he quickly seeks her out, gentle gaze landing on her light apricot coat. She is young - very young - and he shifts his chest to face her. She offers him a light smile underneath tousled forelock, and he returns it graciously. His golden orbs run along her impressive set of horns that spiral towards the sky; admiring them.

     “I see I’m not the only one about tonight,” the girl states unabashedly. A quiet chuckle rumbles from the stallion’s throat, almost impressed at her boldness. “You are right,” his thick voice begins. “Find anything fun around these parts?”  He asks with genuine curiosity; he is more than willing to entertain a young one in return for some viable information about the land he currently treks. 

    “I’m Loic… But you, you can call me Lo,”his rumbling voice is harsh against the silence encompassing the pair, but it is not intimidating. Loic is content around children - they are pure beings (for the most part) who can be great company when approached correctly. The black brute twitches his dark tresses, amber eyes dancing between his new acquaintance and their frigid surroundings. An interesting evening indeed, Loic thinks to himself, a very small grin threatening to pull the corners of his lips.





    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)