• 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


    a gleam, a flash • castile & any
    #1
    https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Slabo+27px" rel="stylesheet">

    Now that the expectant mothers have become the mothers of newborns, his own Jah-Lilah included, Amet can take more comfort in his wishes to visit the territories that border his own home to the west. No longer dredged down by the worry that they may need his assistance ─ and quite promptly, at that ─ the dragonhide stallion leaves his red wytch with a small tug of her tousled mane and the promise of his return in a few days’ time. Masuda is not yet old enough to be away from his dam for any length of time greater than a few hours, forcing Amet’s hand to leave the young boy in Hyaline as he heads towards the western edge of their sanctuary home and towards Loess.

    Thunderclouds rumble overhead and the dark sky promises rain. The electricity in the moist air causes his nostrils to flare and his mahogany tail to flick with involuntary agitation at mother nature’s threat; admittedly, he’s always been quite fond of thunderstorms, but it would seem that he is destined for a lifetime of prey instincts.

    Kensa could have, perhaps, told the gilded stallion who the current ruler of Loess is ─ but if she had, he had forgotten who it was until his lithe akhal-teke frame summited the mountainous border of Hyaline and the scent of Castile soon began to mingle with saltbrush and the summer breeze. The corners of his lips turn upward with an unexpected smile. A long-ago friend, Amet had always been fond of Castile; their friendship had ruptured (though not violently) as politics and women oozed into the folds of their relationship, and despite this he is pleased that he will be chatting with a familiar face today.

    It would seem that his return to Beqanna, just over a year ago now, would still be full of unexpected reunions.

    Amet doesn’t venture far into the bosom of Loess, opting to remain above the foothills, closer to the border, on a fairly visible plateau so that he may not be taken for an intruder. From here, his bright amber eyes survey what unfolds before him and linger on a distant saltwater spring. He calls into the heavy air, his dragon-plated head upturned towards the promise of the storm, and listens to it reverberate, knowing full well that he will not need to wait long to be greeted by the son of Nayl.

    ─ don't get cut on my edges
    @[Castile]

    #2

    but you’d never get hit without earning it
    and i only hit you first ‘cuz i deserved my own hit too
    still it comes the time to call you out
    since i’m the one that you should be about

    Hyaline is far too strong on the wind to just be the normal Loessian breeze.

    Litotes is in his usual lion form when the gentle wind brings Amet’s presence into his nose. He opens his mouth, the fresh and cool smell settling on his tongue. His golden eyes close to slits, pale and near-white fur fluttering as the scent passes. Kensa is certainly not visiting him, and he can recall the distinct smell of the man that took his place from his last dance into the East.

    The wind tells Lie that the Primarch is close, his head slowly turning toward the direction the stallion is in. As he studies his surroundings, chewing on the idea of greeting the dragonhide man, the smell of rain pervades his every sense. His gaze rolls lazily to the sky, the gray reflection turning the topaz a murky brown. To greet or not to greet? He supposes he should do his Marauder duties: on top of leading the warriors, offering an unspoken protection of the borders. Simple kingdom life Lie has plenty of experience in, though such mundane things he finds distasteful when reminding him of a past life.

    A sigh: loud, feline, and resigned. He pads in the direction of Amet’s prominent call.

    As he travels, he returns to his natural form. The equine stretch of his legs is beginning to feel more and more like him, even if the discomfort of transition is a constant cloud distorting his mind. In his most honest moments, he knows that he is not meant to be a lion forever.

    The delicate web of his thoughts is interrupted when the Primarch’s golden hide gleams quite visibly upon a plateau. Litotes notes that Castile has not yet arrived. Again, he considers turning back, certain that Amet is here to smooth over any leftover wrinkles between Hyaline and Loess. He pauses out of sight of the visitor, digging a single hoof into the pliable dirt as he ponders. Once more, that devilish grin returns to his face, and he thinks he belongs in a discussion such as this. Perhaps Amet will not be pleased to have to face the one whom Kagerus places all the blame upon, but will that not make the encounter all the more interesting? Delighted at the idea but truly expecting nothing, Litotes approaches.

    “Amet,” a lion’s growl in the back of his throat, fangs that never shift hanging just visible below his lip. “I assumed I would meet you eventually, but not within the Loessian borders. My name is Litotes, Marauder of Loess - well met.” He smiles a cold smile, teeth like the cruel edge of a sword.

    “Looking for Castile, I presume? I can’t imagine Hyaline has any other business here than to meet with the king.”

    Litotes


    @[Castile] @[Amet]
    #3
    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
    On the easternmost border of Loess lies the jagged mountain peaks shared between it and Hyaline. It’s here, in the summit, that Castile has determined to be the dragon’s nest. It’s a place of seclusion for his family, a den for those dragonborne to rest after a day’s hunt. More often than not, his body reflects his inner beast – a titanic monster with a snake-like neck and tail, jagged teeth, and crushing talons. Here, the world doesn’t see him. Here, he is able to feed the raspy voice that hisses into his thoughts periodically.

    For that reason, Castile doesn’t expect visitors. Those from Hyaline – the rare visitor – have often met on flatter ground versus scaling the summit. Amet, taking a more scenic route high above Loess’ valley, careens not far from the den. Reia is there, nestled in a bed of pines that she gathered during her many adventures. She, however, doesn’t acknowledge the visitor on the adjacent peak, her slumber dulling her senses. Castile, on the other hand, soars and spirals around the mountain top, playing among the clouds with swift rolls and turns.

    The wind slips quickly along his hardened scales and spines. Every row of his wings sounds like the rushing crash of waves as he stays afloat, mostly gliding as he finds solace in his draconic isolation.

    A gradual turn around a bend brings horses into view. His eyes take note of first Litotes moving, then to a vaguely familiar face overlooking a ledge. High above, they do not yet see him – but maybe hear his wings buffeting the air? – and so he turns with agile grace into the clouds. A low growl erupts in response to the intrusion, but he addresses it nonetheless by first shifting seamlessly back into his equine body. His draconic wings remain as the only remnant as he alights adjacent to the two men. ”Litotes,” he first acknowledges his newly-appointed Marauder with a lopsided grin and nod before flickering his eyes to the gilded male. ”Wow. Talk about a blast from the past,” he isn’t sure where they stand, how much of their relationship suffered when he detached Hyaline from Nerine and when Ciri couldn’t decide between the two of them.

    Still, Castile musters hospitality. ”Hello, Amet.”


    castile


    @[litotes] @[Amet]
    #4

    His name is growled by an unfamiliar voice, but the stallion's anonymity ends the moment Amet's amber eyes come to rest on the cremello face of Litotes. The dragonhide stallion smiles politely ─ he could be perceived as an intruder, after all ─ though the harshness behind the expression of the former-Primarch does not go unnoticed.

    "Your name preceeds you," he responds simply.  Kagerus had, of course, mentioned Litotes but only vaguely. It had been Kensa to tell him all he had needed to know about the cremello stallion, and even her remarks on the matter had skirted the topic as best they could. Nevertheless, he's not here to lay judgement upon the stallion who had once stood beside Kensa. "Yes. He's an old friend." The terse sentence is all he offers to Litotes, his attention turning instead towards the rain-heavy clouds overhead and the rippling of a breeze caused by something other than mother nature.

    It doesn't take long for the painted frame of Castile to follow after the sound. Amet turns his amber gaze in the direction of that voice, settling for a moment on the lopsided grin he'd seen a time or two in his youth, before his own lips twist to reciprocate. "Castile. Man, it's good to see you." Too much had happened in his time away from Beqanna. He had learned to live off of uncertainty and scraps of food. Ciri's departure. Finding Eternal. The ice age. His separation from Eione. HIs return to Beqanna.

    It's only now that everything seems to be settling back into place, back into the familiarity he had craved his entire time away. It's the comfort behind that familiarity that, perhaps, keeps him from feeling awkward or contemptious in the presence of Castile. Because it doesn't matter anymore; this is his normal. It's hard to feel negativity when he is thankful for so much. "I wanted to introduce myself to Hyaline's neighbors as the new Primarch," he offers with a small chuckle and a shrug of his shoulders, "Well... new old Primarch, I suppose." Castile had been there. He knew.

    "But I'm quite pleased I get to skip the introductions here. Tell me how you've been."

    ─ don't get cut on my edges
    @[Castile], @[litotes]

    #5

    but you’d never get hit without earning it
    and i only hit you first ‘cuz i deserved my own hit too
    still it comes the time to call you out
    since i’m the one that you should be about

    Amet dismisses Litotes curtly. A statement like your name precedes you in a tone such as his is not exactly friendly, though the cremello certainly does not mind. A little off for a diplomat from the East, he thinks, but he tends to not take offense from the quickness of strangers. Instead, his eyes follow the Primarch’s to the clouds above, the beating sound of approaching wings delicate in his ears. Castile arriving just in time.

    The pale green grass bends beneath the will of the wings’ air. Lie’s eyes widen in delight as he watches them bow. The grin of his king is a bit of a reassurance, and the cremello returns it as devilishly. For the dragon’s sake (and for his own attempts at being a “good diplomat”), he does not roll his eyes at Amet’s enthusiasm; instead, his eyes crinkle to critical slits. Clearly there is history between the two - history that connect dots in the Maurader’s eyes. There is discomfort in the back of his throat though he does not show it.

    Concerns are like a hurricane in his mind: a little paranoia and lack of knowledge do not make for a good mix. Though he has not spoken with Castile directly about his ideas, he has gotten the impression that the two will make a good team. Now, in the face of yet another “neutral” leader, his mind wonders. Certainly the draconic king will not want peace? There is too much chaos reverberating beneath his skin. Lie does not exactly care for war, but in his opinion the East can remain uncomfortably on the edge of their seats.

    Beqanna is far too boring amongst the plague. Their plans align in leading their universe in another direction. Lie just has to sit in his discomfort and acknowledge that.

    He remains silent, allows the two their reunion, analytical eyes passing between them.

    Litotes


    @[Amet] @[Castile]




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)