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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


    [private]  like coke in the nose of nobles
    #1
    CRYBABY
    so we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight

    Crybaby curls around and around the tightly packed trees of the forest. He is beautiful, pale perlino with brilliant flowers in his mane and tail. The leaves around him are dark reflections in his pink eyes - they glimmer with interest, snarky grin on his face.

    Hatchetface is in Pangea while his twin wanders, and the perlino cannot help but feel a bit naked without his counterpart. A bit of nervousness pervades his mind, sending heart palpitations to throb painfully in his chest. The grin on his face wavers into a straight line, and he flattens - or rather, deflates - into what appears to be the most hollow creature on earth. That is what his mother taught him, or what a child perceives as a lesson: never show your true nature. Sure, his father may see a flash or two, but the twins lead intensely private lives. Crybaby is not even sure if he loves Litotes - or Jackel.

    He is not sure of anything. His single year alive has been particularly tumultuous.

    So, one could say that he is “finding himself” as he weaves, curious about about having a life outside of his family while simultaneously terrified of where he might go without his brother. The forest appears safe, at least, and he finds solace in the way the branches weave together like handmade wicker baskets. Beneath the canopy and low-hanging leaves, most would not be able to spot him (that is what he tells himself, though his shiny perlino frame is much more noticeable than he will admit).

    It is those exact interlaced limbs that hinder him when he nearly runs head first into an equally as pale yearling. All Cry can muster is a grunt before reeling back and into the trunk of a tree. He can hear his companion python snickering in his head, though she is some distance away.

    “Nageera,” he snaps without thinking about how strange this colt must find him to be spouting gibberish. Crybaby then snaps his attention back up to Beelzebub, hot pink eyes suspicious. “What are you doing?”


    @[Beelzebub] i wanted to get something up for them <3
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    #2
    you are sacred because i have made you sacred.
    Beelzebub
    When the fires spread across Loess, his mother had pointed out the black blur across the night sky and told a sleepy-eyed Beelzebub that that was his father. He stayed up all night and watched the fires chew through the kingdom from a distance. When the volcano bellowed and threw its ash and lava, the boy watched in awe until the sun finally rose across the morning horizon. Since that day, he has practiced his own fire breathing and managed small bursts of flame. The rest of it – the scales and the wings – come and go as they please without his control.

    When Crybaby skitters backward from him, he feels the wings rip from his spine and flesh until they can spread wide in some instinctual threat display. He winces at the sudden pain that makes his breath catch in his throat and stumbles backward also. Beelzebub forces himself to inhale when the strange boy barks his question at him, making the dragon child narrow his eyes briefly. Glassheart never chided or admonished him, so he doesn’t take kindly to the demanding tone.

    “I was minding my own business until someone stopped minding theirs,” he answers shortly as he shifts his footing, lifting his chin defiantly as his wings settle against his back. “Who is Nageera?”

    His golden eyes search their surroundings as he glances around for anyone else nearby but he comes up empty handed. He hasn’t noticed, but the grass and flowers around his hooves have begun to grow taller and healthier as his agitation fuels them. Instead, his focus returns to the pink-eyed boy as he tilts his head to examine him once more.

    “I’m Beelzebub and I have decided that we’re friends now.”

    He gives a short nod as though approving of his own actions without waiting for a response from his new companion. How delighted he would be to learn that his new friend has a twin that Bee can also claim as his.
    there is no burning that i did not create.

    @[crybaby] he likes baby but he doesn't know how to show it.
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