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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


    and nothing hurts when I’m alone, Heartfire
    #1
    ryatah
    hell is empty and all the devils are here
    To many, Tephra was a safe haven. It was why she had selected it, so that her children had a place to grow without the risk of falling ill. Unfortunately, her children were similar to her; none of them seemed to care much for the offer of safety and protection. She cannot fault them for it, when it was her own shortcoming. She tried to keep them safe; she tried to remain focused and keep herself from straying even further than she already had. But not even they — her beautiful jewel-colored Evenstar, her vivacious Casimira, and her handsome Cassian — were enough to anchor her down anymore.

    But, she always came back. Always subtly changed in some way, but she comes back.

    It doesn’t feel like home, but it is the closest thing she has. She’s never been very good at keeping things — especially nothing that was stable and reliable, and Tephra is no different. She comes back to it, though, as she does with most of her things, because she always will until she is told she can’t anymore.

    She does not recognize the roan colored mare as she comes into sight, and a flicker of curiosity sparks in her dark eyes. She was accustomed to everyone being a stranger; there were so few left that she knew. Apart of her was tired of it. Tired of feeling aimless, tired of feeling forgotten. A larger part of her wanted nothing more than to turn to dust and complete the process of disappearing. But she is soft enough as she approaches, with her lips lifting into a wisp of a smile. “You’re not from Tephra,” She states plainly. She does not know who she is, only that she smells of the sea — and if it evokes a peculiar stirring in her chest, she artfully suppresses it. “I’m Ryatah.”


    @[Heartfire]
    Hi they will be best friends now, thank you
    #2

    She's got the devil's eyes

    For all the power she can wield at her fingertips, even she is not familiar with every soul that inhabits these lands. Though she has seen many upon many faces in passing, there are those she has not had chance to inventory. Perhaps there is a familiarity in the white mare that interrupts her departure from Tephra, but it is little more than a passing one.

    Still, it is these equines that she has always found to be the most interesting. Few realize just how much can be found in the obscure and the forgotten. But that is not a mistake Heartfire has ever made.

    At first, she barely spares the woman more than a passing glance. Indeed, had she not approached, she might have continued onward with little more than a thought. But she has discovered that fate seems to have a way of placing those with the most interesting stories in the places she least expects. And she is certainly not one to ignore such things.

    Her gaze settles on the pale mare as she approaches, blue eyes sharply assessing as she studies the stranger. Her gait eases briefly before slowing to a halt as the clearly Tephran woman greets her rather plainly. Heartfire, so often plainly spoken herself, can appreciate a woman who speaks so without artifice. And for that alone, she finds her curiosity piqued.

    Even if that had not done it however, a swift glance into the woman’s sight would have convinced her to stay. As it is, that brief inspection stirs greater questions, awakening a deep-rooted curiosity that has long been a rather unfortunate foible of the blue and white mare.

    Settling her slim figure more easily, Heartfire tilts her head slightly, lips quirking into a barely visible upturn. “You are correct, I am not from Tephra,” she agrees easily, her voice light and even. “I am Heartfire,” she offers then by way of introduction before adding, “From Nerine.”

    She considers her for another lengthy moment, pale eyes piercing in their intensity. Finally, almost absently, she continues, “You are a curious woman Ryatah.”

    and they'll cut you like a weapon

    Heartfire
    #3
    ryatah
    hell is empty and all the devils are here
    There is something quiet but fierce that she observes in the other mare, her own almost-back eyes settled on her face. She can see the way she looks at her, though she isn’t sure what she sees. She doesn’t know what she must look like to strangers, now. Before, when nothing but hollowed sockets sat dark and scarred where eyes had been, she had many assumptions of what they must be thinking — pity, intrigue, perhaps a sort of morbid fascination. There had been a time when everyone had known the how and the why, and they didn’t seem to mind when she stood too close, when she would lay touches against their skin to anchor herself to something solid. And even permanently trapped in darkness, she had never felt afraid.

    Now, there is so little that stands out about her. Plain and white, with sable eyes that have seen so much and somehow hardly anything at all. She feels smothered by the shadows more than she ever had when she was blind, and even when her eyes stare out into the brightness of the world, she feels more invisible than she ever had; as though she can now see the way everyone looks past her.

    “Heartfire,” She repeats, and there is something warmer in her voice when she says it, something seeming to alight in her somber eyes. With a name to attach she is no longer a stranger— not to her, at least. “I haven’t been to Nerine yet, but you smell of the sea.” It doesn’t remind her of the beaches of Beqanna — not at first. It makes her think of her home before this, before she had even met the albino stallion that would dictate so much of the course of her life. It was perhaps the only time she had ever been innocent.

    Curious, she says, and it sparks a lilting laugh from her tongue. “You’re not the first to say that.” Everyone seems to be able to see beyond the tranquility she displayed on the surface. She wonders, then, if Heartfire can see what he, and others, could see — or feel. That indescribable need to feel broken to feel alive, to be shattered so she could piece herself back together. She didn’t know how to do anything else but fall apart.   “I’ve never understood why.” Here, she tilts her delicate head, inquiring in her soft, but knowing way, “Perhaps you can enlighten me.”
    #4

    She's got the devil's eyes

    “That’s a pity,” Heartfire responds, alluding to the statement she had yet to visit Nerine. She lifts one brow faintly before continuing almost idly, “Perhaps you’ll rectify that soon.”

    Heartfire had never particularly objected to being a woman relatively few notice unless she forces them to take notice. There is a great deal of benefit to be had in being able to disappear into the shadows or a crowd. Of course, that is much more difficult for others to understand. But then, she has never particularly needed to be understood.

    The white mare might feel invisible, but Heartfire cannot pity her for that. Not when it has so often left  her in...rather unique positions. Of course, what is not there to be seen is far more intriguing to the mottled blue mare than what she can see. It is that which had inspired her rather bald comment. That which holds her attention when it might have so easily slipped away.

    “I could,” she agrees passively, though her eyes are sharp on the pale woman before her. There are certainly a great deal of things she could enlighten her about. The question is, did she truly wish to know? Tilting her head faintly, she allows the silence to stretch for a moment. “At least, I could tell you why I say it,” she amends before adding, “Though I’m not certain I could enlighten you as to why others might.”

    Her blue eyes glittering enigmatically, she shifts, pressing ever so slightly closer. As though she has a great secret to reveal. Of course, while her words might often be boldly forthright, she is rarely terribly informative. “Tell me Ryatah, do you enjoy your life?”

    and they'll cut you like a weapon

    Heartfire
    #5
    ryatah
    hell is empty and all the devils are here
    “Perhaps,” she agrees with an upward quirk of her lips when Heartfire mentions visiting Nerine. “I do miss the beach.” She isn’t sure if she still smells like seawater to others, and if the other mare would think her insane for missing something she had just left. But she offers no further insight, even if her mane is still tangled and course from the saltwater that had dried in it. Instead, she is silent beneath the blue mare’s sharp stare, and if she notices the way she is being scrutinized, it doesn’t appear to bother her.

    “Why do you say it, then?” Her sable eyes simmer with amusement, and it is difficult to discern if the once-Queen is truly ignorant to the way she is portrayed to others. As if the scars that decorated her smooth, porcelain-like skin did not warrant any sort of curiosity – the dark mark across her skull from her daughter, the various scars across her withers and shoulders left by nearly every man she had ever laid with, and most recently, the peculiar symbol emblazoned on her hip. Even without the vacant sockets – now filled with dark eyes, a gift of sorts, even if they were not given freely –  her body was a roadmap that nearly begged to be questioned and poured over. It’s difficult to say if she pretends to find herself boring, or if she truly believes it.

    For just a brief moment, her eyes sharpen at the question she is asked, with a glimmer of confusion reflecting on her face fleetingly. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” Her tone does not match her stare, for her voice remains delicate and placid, casual. Her life, and the way it has always played out, is the only way she has ever known it. For as long as she has lived it has been nothing but chaos and mistakes, until turmoil became her peace. True tranquility made her uneasy. “To answer your question, yes.”


    @[Heartfire]
    #6

    She's got the devil's eyes

    It's oddly satisfying, the way they each dance so peculiarly around that which they would say to the other. Heartfire is no stranger to such things, but she is beginning to rather enjoy the banter, even if it isn't truly getting them anywhere. It's refreshing almost, to have a conversation in which the outcome doesn't really matter.

    It's easy enough for her to see beyond the idle musings, beyond the faintly spoken longing for the beach despite the brine still tangled in her pale hair. She has seen a great deal if terrible things in her life, so this is nothing new. No, what intrigues her is not the actions so much as the unusual longing behind it. The mind of woman who would so actively seek out such torment even as she denies it.

    Others might find it odd. Heartfire finds it oddly useful.

    "I think," she begins slowly, as though musing over her words, "that you know why I say it, Ryatah." The white mare might be many things, but stupid is not one of them. Foolhardy and reckless and complacent? Absolutely. Stupid? Never. "I've seen your story a hundred times, but never have I seen quite this outcome," she continues somewhat cryptically, alluding to a history she had never actually shared with her.

    She considers her silently then, not bothering to answer the question she had put to her. Heartfire is hardly one to judge in the happiness she had found. Indeed, there are many who might wonder how Heartfire finds happiness in her own life.

    To each their own.

    "Come with me to Nerine," she ends abruptly, interrupting the silence. "Just for a visit." Her lips tilt slightly then, the faintest of smiles. "I think you'd find it worthwhile."

    and they'll cut you like a weapon

    Heartfire




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