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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


    .:Bloodfeather:. (Pteron, Castile)
    #1

    Winter bears down over Beqanna, leaving her skies heavy with frozen rain. As he coasts through the heavy cover, Wolfbane can feel condensation growing over his wings. It accumulates quickly and freezes even quicker, coating his feathers and eventually forcing him down into a lower altitude until he bursts through the somber heavens and out into open sky. Below him, the Pampas stretch out far and wide, undulating with brown waves of costal grass but otherwise peacefully quiet. He feels a sense of relief at the sight and continues north.

    A familiar curve to the right leaves him skimming past Sylva and her hidden inhabitants, giving him enough time to glance down and see the blur of colorful woodlands before the first outcroppings of Loess mesa begin to pop up from the middle of the earth.

    Just the sight of them looming in the distance - craggy hillocks and secret alcoves, of which he knew plenty - made his heart soar like his body currently was. To be home again, truly home in the sense of a feeling, not just a place, was ecstasy for his eyes. Bane was tired but as he glided overtop those outlying stone structures the exhaustion of a days-long journey left him, replaced by the rush of adrenaline.

    He flared both wings, pale white and dulled by a cloudy day, then arced them down in a powerful gust of movement that sent him rocketing onward. The striped horse had little idea that when he landed, his life wouldn’t be the same. All he could see was Loess ahead and his worries behind; a son to find and a wife soon to join him. In his mind he still reigned King, so the stallion drifted even lower and trumpeted out a bellow for Vulgaris, for all his kingdom, and that’s when he saw Pteron.

    “Pteron!” His thoughts became a word, echoing over the deadened hills. It was hard to mistake the joy in his tone. “Pteron wait right there! I’ll come to you!” He shouted with a laugh. The years had given him wisdom but had ceased to take his youthful, charming look with them. He circled lower and, eventually, came to a hopping sort of stop some yards away.

    Twisting back on one heel, the older pegasus shook out his characteristic mane that stood so proudly upright and trotted back the way he’d flown towards his firstborn. Coming to a hill he buckled his legs underneath him and took the incline stride by stride, as adept on the ground here as he was in the sky, rolling over the top with lanky, confident ease before slipping back down the opposite side and nickering out for Pteron to hear.

    Refugee of Loess : Member of the Southlands

    Wolfbane



    @[Pteron] @[Castile]
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #2
    Pteron stands on a rocky precipice just south of the crescent lake, his olive green eyes flickering across the land below him. Loess looks much different in the winter, blanketed by the snow. It is a good sort of different, the young stallion has decided, and it is nice to look at. He is doing just that - looking for the sake of looking - when he sees the shadow.

    Lifting a wing to shield his gaze from the bright sun, the tobiano seeks the source of the shadow in the sky, one that he recognizes as that of a flying horses. He spots it just as the pegasus lands, and Pteron's young heart skips a beat at the familiar shade of gold.

    His father's voice calls out a well-remembered bugle, and Pteron spreads his wings. Wolfbane's words keep him in place, but it is a near thing, and he shifts his weight excitedly until the striped stallion crests the ridge. Once he does, Pteron approaches him without a moment's hesitation, burying his pale face in his father's blue and gold shoulder.

    "Dad! You came back! I knew you would!" Pulling back from the embrace, Pteron looks up at his father, a little surprised that he no longer has to look up quite as far as he had at their last meeting. He knows he has grown - he is nearly two now! - but knowing and seeing it is something entirely different.

    "I missed you." He adds, and then looks up at the sky once more. Shouldn't Mother be along soon, he thinks?

    @[Wolfbane]
    #3

    Pteron’s embrace seemed like a bit of magic itself, the way it swept up concern and replaced it with quiet, happy peace. His father exhales, Oof! A sound that rings out from his chest when the broad forehead of his nearly-grown son butts into the curve of his shoulder. There was hardly any boy left in his child; time had taken away the awkwardness and soft, downy feathers of youth. What pulled away and stood before him now was handsome in its paleness and imposing in its obvious strength, displaying a pair of wings so much like Wolfbane’s own set.

    The drake can’t deny a tinge of sadness at the sight of his boy all grown up. “I would never abandon you.” The gleaming elder spoke, his voice a bit stern but his eyes betraying a softness. That Pteron would even doubt his return seemed impossible! “I missed you every second we were away. I owe you a very large apology.” He smiled now, the dark mask covering his face shifting with the slight action. “C’mere!”

    And taking a step forward, Wolfbane engulfed his eldest fledgling by draping his neck across the span of two bumpy shoulders and pulling him close, as tightly as he could manage.

    “Your mom and Marni will be here soon. At the first sign of Sping, I promise.” He tells the youth after a moment's reprieve. That hopeful look at the sky hadn’t been overlooked. “For now though it’s just us guys.” His brows wagged, “I’m so proud to see you here! Surprised but proud. Are you out patrolling for Vulgaris? Where is that old bat anyways?” His father asks, rapid-fire.

    Refugee of Loess : Member of the Southlands

    Wolfbane



    @[Pteron] @[Castile] Aeris this is a just a second tag in case you're interested Smile feel free to drop Castile in or maybe later he & Bane can meet. I know you're busy!
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #4
    The green-eyed colt breathes in the familiar scent of his father's coat and finds that it brings him a warm sort of comfort that he had not even known he had been missing. Pteron has friends now, but he has been without family for nearly a year. It feels as though something has returned to him, as though he had been just a bit off-kilter and has finally regained his balance. It feels good, and he smiles without reservation.

    He doesn't even need the apology, but the dun colt accepts the embrace without hesitation, sighing happily into the warmth of his father's chest before they pull away to speak once more. Mother and Marni are coming soon, his father promises, and Pteron nods in understanding.

    His chest swells a bit at his father's praise, and Pteron bobs his head at Wolfbane's question if he is out patrolling, though he pauses mid-nod at the mention of Vulgaris' name.

    "Vulgaris isn't leading Loess anymore, Dad." At first this is bewildering to the young colt, but he realizes that of course Father won't know this. They were gone when the throne changed hands. They'd all been gone, really; Pteron had only known that Castile was the leader when he'd said as much upon their first meeting.

    The shift in leadership had changed very little for Pteron - he was just a low-ranking boy with blood ties to the former leaders. He still patrolled, still meet newcomers, still traveled to the field in search of recruits. It has not occurred to him, at least not until just now, what a change in rulers might mean for his parents. Vulgaris had been charged with holding the throne for them, but he had instead given it to Castile. What does that mean for his parents?

    It is worrying, and something that Pteron is not entirely prepared to deal with. It is his luck then that he can still slip into the ignorance of childhood. His parents will handle this, he thinks; they will take care of it. He is simply glad to have them back again.

    "I think he's still around, but Castile is leading now. He's a dragon!"

    @[Wolfbane]
    #5
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    Where there is Pteron, there is Castile. Although their blood is different – the boy is not of the dragon’s brood – there’s a bond that tethers them. Their families have been a unified force for years, bound together by sheer loyalty and friendship. There was Djinni and Nayl, then Ivar and Castile, but then the affection trickled down the ladder. Castile kept a steady watch on Lepis as a girl, but in her absence he has since adopted the placid role of watching Pteron.

    The boy is a gentle soul, a playful one with wanderlust and a driven hope that his parents will soon return. Supportively, Castile voices a similar wishfulness; it would be lovely to see Lepis again, a woman grown and no longer a child. Days have passed in which the dragon king has pondered her whereabouts, but the question still remains without answer. Today, however, brings a change in the wind. It comes as a voice breaking through the peaceful day, calling to Pteron. Vigilant, Castile lifts his mismatched eyes to find the Pegasus and follow his descent. A purposeful walk separates them, but his arrival is shortly after their reunion.

    ”Hello,” he says following Pteron’s exuberant description. He cannot restrain the smile that surfaces across his lips as he draws to a halt in front of Wolfbane, a name he has only heard among hushed whispers. The affection exchanged means only one thing, confirming his lurking suspicions. ”I’m pleased to finally meet Pteron’s father. I hope Lepis isn’t too far behind. I haven’t seen her in years.” It’s a familial love, perhaps something that not everyone would understand. Romance was never a thing. Despite Ivar having taken Isobell as his bride, thus formally uniting the family of kelpies and dragons, Castile never held that sort of love for any of Djinni’s descendants. As much as he cared for Starlin, much like Lepis, their rendezvous had been unexpected and brief. Their son roams somewhere along Loess’ hills.

    A deep lungful of air clutches to the soft lining of Castile’s nostrils and registers Wolfbane to memory.

    His predatory nature is easily enough suppressed, calmed by the tenderness of the reunion, but his stance remains more formal. ”And as Pteron said, I’m Castile.” He doesn’t add that he is King, or even that he is a dragon. His features remain untouched by his draconic attributes, creating a clean slate for Wolfbane to judge.


    castile


    @[Pteron] @[Wolfbane]
    #6

    Expectation and the reality of what's occured since Wolfbane had left couldn’t be farther apart from one another. He’d expected a different sort of reply from his son, and the sweeping cloud of bitter disappointment at the words Vulgaris isn’t leading Loess anymore doesn’t shy away from his expression. For a brief moment Bane’s eyes harden and his ears begin to tilt back, but he’d rather not strike fear into Pteron’s heart. He wasn’t mad at his son, after all. He was incensed at the friend who’d disappointed him beyond words.

    Carefully, casually, the elder pegasus schooled his emotions and an exasperated sigh got swallowed down. There’s more to hear anyways, and Pteron is forthcoming about who rules instead. Castile - the dragon - but Wolfbane knows him better as Castile - the uncle - who’d groomed Lepis for a throne that eventually fell on his own shoulders. “How frightening.” He muses gently, replacing a tight-lipped frown with the hint of a boyish smirk. Forming a question, Bane paused and listened instead to the unfamiliar, hitching step of another approaching.

    Raising his eyes above the topline of Peron’s folded wings, he took an initial glance at the horse who’d replaced him and for a moment, Bane contemplated the creature approaching them.

    There were too many concerns he thought about. Too many conflicting emotions that at first tugged him one way and then the other. He had questions for Pteron but they seemed insignificant now that the object of his curiosity was here to answer them himself. Quiet and contemplative, the winged stallion nodded softly as a reply and only answered after Castile gave his name. “She’s arriving soon with our daughter and unborn in tow.” He’s happy enough to report, glancing aside at his son with eyebrows raised. Yes, unborn his expression seemed to say. Pteron would be a brother again.

    The quiet hum of insects and the comforting smell of Loess surrounded the trio, giving Wolfbane strength enough to carry on when he’d rather leave and begin hunting for Vulgaris. Instead he inhaled and steeled himself with resolve, preferring to set an example for his eldest child. There were many things Bane could be: childish and impulsive to name a few, but he’d watched his own mentor go off the rails enough times to never want the same for his brood. Castile wasn’t deserving of his anger. “I want to thank you foremost, for making Pteron feel at home and giving him a place here in Loess while I was away. I’m indebted to you, more or less.” He grins.

    “But I can’t help feeling confused… how did you end up in charge, if you don’t mind me asking?”

    Refugee of Loess : Member of the Southlands

    Wolfbane



    @[Pteron] @[Castile]
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #7
    Though he knows the dissappointment that clouds his father’s face is caused by the news he shares and not his own actions, Pteron cannot help but shift uncomfortably. Should he have done something, said something? There is no way the boy could have stopped a coronation that he didn’t know about, but for a brief moment he attempts to think of how he might have accomplished it. Very breif, because Wolfbane is speaking, and while the reaction is not quite what Pteron had been expecting.

    As far as the piebald colt knows, Castile is his biological uncle: the draconic brother of his mother’s monstrous father. All the stories Pteron knows fit that narrative - as does the smokey piebald coat of the Loessian monarch. While the two tobiano pegasi are not especially close, Pteron does admire the king in a way that is an echo of the way he looks up to Father. So Castile’s arrival brings a bright grin to Pteron’s pale face, and he turns to the dragon with an eager nod of greeting.

    The greeting between the two older men is something that Pteron watches with interest: Castile’s desire to see Mother, Father’s mention of a debt. Wolfbane then turns the conversation back to the subject that the boy knows had caused an odd reaction. His blue ears turn toward to the dragon to hear the answer to the question about the change in leadership, but his olive green eyes cannot help but travel back toward the horizon now and again.

    Soon, father had said, they’d be coming soon. The warm weather is surely a sign of their imminent arrival. He wonders how Marni will have grown and who his new sibling will be. Another sister, or maybe a brother like he’d requested of Mother the first time? Lepis had laughed and told him there was no ‘requesting’ the sex of a baby, but Pteron still holds out hope.

    @[Wolfbane]
    #8
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    ”Then, a congratulations is in order,” another child is always a means of celebration no matter how strange it is to still picture Lepis as a mother when it seems only yesterday she was a filly herself. ”Loess welcomes you back,” as of yet, there is no reason to refuse Wolfbane from a land that was once his home, his own kingdom. There isn’t a challenge in his voice demanding it back, no concern that it is failing in Castile’s grasp. On the contrary, it continues to thrive. It remains a pinnacle in Beqanna, kept strongly alive by those within its borders – more so than most places. Although Castile didn’t expect to return, he finds himself relieved that he had. Oddly enough, it has been the only place to hand him such power and success.

    It was – still is – Lepis’ home no matter who is at the bow steering Loess’ ambitions. It would’ve been cruel to turn away Pteron; both for his blood ties and for the close bond that tethers the families. It hasn’t been a problem, because truthfully he enjoys the boy, but he accepts Wolfbane’s gratitude nonetheless. ”Of course.” It’s a simple response edged by a grin and soft eyes that fall to Pteron for a long moment before returning to the former King. ”You owe me nothing. He’s family.” The power of family was instilled in him at a young age. It’s something he values above all else, even above the crown that sits on his brow.

    Truthfully, that was the reason he wanted to lead - to provide security for his family.

    But Wolfbane is wary of this with his calculative eyes and level tone as he asks how it came to be. Many have asked the same. They all want to know what convinced the viper to stand down to the dragon, what force was administered for the abrupt takeover. Alas, it isn’t such an exciting story. Castile shrugs, a familiar gesture every time he replays the decision in his mind. ”I was coming here to be a soldier. I lived here once, long ago, and I gained more than I expected. I’m not sure why, or his intentions, but here we are.” After all, it could have been a trap or a diversion, but Castile still acquiesced to the offer. ”Nothing exciting, admittedly.” Not that he would indulge the intricacies to a stranger anyways.

    castile


    @[Pteron] @[Wolfbane]




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