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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


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    [open]  dirty paws & glistening scales; any
    #1
    A light snow falls.
    A portal opens.

    The peace is shattered as a swirling picture-window, into what could easily be confused with hell, rips open the icy air.  From the juxtaposition of darkness and flame, a young wolf steps out in a blast of heat that melts the snow around him.  The gritty tundra below is bare as his broad, black paws steam against the should-be frozen earth as he finds his balance. Behind him, there is the sound of a void being created - and then a pop as the arctic air refills in the space where Tephra had briefly been. 

    Then silence. 

    For a moment the wolf wonders if he has found the great white oblivion, so quickly had he been thrown from chaos into the nothingness. Not even another mind brushes against his own. But it is a passing thought, and the yearling is almost disappointed as his dark head turns and he realizes he has seen this place in the thought of others.

    Confused yet unscathed, Firen sits and waits for he knows not what and wings of flame ripple above his brindle back. The residual heat rolling off his thick coat causes the frozen earth below his haunches to groan but he does not stir. He was nothing if not patient - too passive for his own good - his father liked to say, and he finds solace in the silence. 

    Still shook and a little disoriented, he is content to remain a nameless figure somewhere along the coast of a barren winter world, looking out across the great North Sea.
    [Image: Firen-insane.gif]
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    #2

    Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow

    CREVAN

    In springtime the barren Tundra was not so unbearable. Even at the end of winter, when he’d coaxed Sabrina away from her home and further north, they’d been adequate at keeping the cold at bay by curling into one another during the long nights. Falling into step beside the she-hound hadn’t been intentional, but now that their time together was expanding Crevan can’t help but feel a pleasant shifting inside of himself - as if something askew had fallen neatly back into place.

    Yes, he misses Merida more than words can say.
    No, he will not dwell on the past. Never again.

    In this environment he nearly blends in; a white underbelly but mostly tan topside. Further south his paws could dig into dark, wet soil from where the snows had melted for the season, but at the tip of this great island ice reigns supreme. It would be hard for any normal creature to survive it, so imagine his shock at trotting along the coastline only to see a dark, semi-flaming figure out in the distance.

    The great wolf stills, body motionless. There’s an obvious curiosity in his eyes; since coming here both he and Sabrina hadn’t seen much of anything aside from the resident flora and fauna. But the soft ridge of hair stiffening between his shoulders belies a more sinister emotion.

    Nails digging into the snow send him traveling sideways, slowly, as his head pivots to keep both dark blue eyes trained on the newcomer. Where did he come from? is his first thought, the unmistakable scent of male washing over his tender nose. He fringes the boy and halts, close enough that the two can discern markings and expressions. “A pup.”

    It is a statement, and nothing else.



    @[Firen]
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    #3
    On this spring day, Jesper patrols in his given form; a coal black equine of Arabian blood with a white dot on his forehead and, a white band between his fetlock joint and coronet band. The bronze streaks in his mane, and the bronze tips of his ears, shimmer when the meek daystar hits the hairs just right. The terrain remains frozen solid and blanketed in snow. The air is still bitter and dry despite the promising glow of the sun.

    This all seems a huge contradiction: Arabian blood and arctic cold. It is true. Typically, during this time of year, Jesper would be in canine form, making use of the dense fur coat that comes with it. That is until Beqanna's fairies blessed him once more. His quest for the Ice Queen earned him another, entirely useful trait. The stallion wakes and finds himself quite comfortable as his body adjusts and adapts to his environment. Whether he needs a thicker pelt to insulate him from the cold, or scales to keep the frigid waters from chilling him to the bone, his body comes prepared - as if it is second nature. Jesper could not be more ecstatic and, so so very grateful.

    Today, a pair of strange and, strongly male, musks reaches his olfactory sense. The steed makes a point of altering his course directly towards them. After all, as a permanent fixture of Icicle Isle - even if his new post had not quite sunk in yet - he ought to know who is just passing through, who are intruding and, who are relocating. Truth-be-told, the stench of these strangers made his hackles rise. He did not know what form they arrived in but, Jesper knows his stature as a fox is far less intimidating.

    He marches confidently towards them - a pair of dark-hued canines. Tufted lobes poise alertly atop poll while the remainder of his expression bears a calm blankness. There is no need to jump to conclusions; no need to make a fuss over what isn't there. With a soft sigh, the black steed draws to a halt and levels his light blue gaze with the gazes of the other two males. He offers his introduction with a level tone that suggests nothing more than his passive curiosity. "I would be Jesper, keeper of the Isle. Your faces are new to me but, welcome. What brings you this far north?"
    jesper
    carnage x bethanie
    devin's∇designs

    @[Firen] @[Crevan]
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    #4
    Firen is alone with his own thoughts for the first time in his young life, and he feels as empty as the endless sky before him. But he does nothing to change that. When his ears stop ringing, the young wolf listens to the snow gently falling, and that is all.

    A shell of a boy, he passes an hour in quiet meditation. The confusion and adrenaline settle, but he is unwilling to decide his own opinions on the ruin of his home while his emotions are so raw. So he doesn't think on that; he thinks on snow gently falling. 

    A pulse of life disrupts his quiet musings, as he feels the unguarded consciousness of another being. This other has seen him, and this being does not enjoy the sight of a newcomer. The fingers Firen's mind quickly latch onto the stranger and it is a hot and violent consciousness he finds, at least when compared to the snowfall.

    The brindle wolf turns to face the distant figure before he should have been able to know he was there - before sound or scent met his senses.  He turns slowly, laying his belly against the soggy earth and lowering his ears, even though the other still has minutes of trotting to cover the distance between them. 
     
    'A pup.' the pale alpha states, and Firen sinks a little lower as if to confirm this fact, licking his lips with his red eyes fixed on the bare earth. He allows his wolf instincts guide his actions as the larger, older male evaluates him. 
     
    But just behind the first another comes trotting towards them with cool confidence, yet the horse's mind does not match his posture. Firen is puzzled when he feels that both males see him as a threat - at least, enough of a threat to raise their suspicions and hackles - he had only ever been seen as an awkward child in Tephra.  For just a second his eyes flick up to view the horse as he speaks, but he remains low and submissive at the other wolf's side. 

    "He sees us as a threat," he murmurs in a wolfish grunt, barely louder than the falling snow.
    [Image: Firen-insane.gif]
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    #5

    Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow

    CREVAN

    Their way - Firen and Crevan’s way - is more ancient than any land in Beqanna. It seeps past the common trivial lives of horses, who live in a prey state of mind and seek each other out for comfort, holding onto their powers and magic when the night grows dark. But he and Firen are more than horse, they’re kin. Wolf kin. And somehow it never fails that Crevan will eventually cross paths with another shifter no matter where he goes. Like magnets, like moons to planets, those of similar skins are drawn to one another out of a necessity. An understanding.

    He’d felt that way with Merida, with his mother. In fact watching the younger pup go belly-flat reminds him of his early days and though Crevan snarls without sound, it’s a forgiving action. His tongue slides past teeth and licks pink gums, rolling over the barely discernible glint of silver that runs through the bone. This is how they do things; order is established because it’s necessary. There can only be one Alpha at a time because nature demands it and Firen, well… he’s too young to run at the head of the pack.

    They’re on the verge of coming to this understanding without the need for speaking it over when Jesper arrives. The tan wolf’s nape is slowly settling back down across his shoulders, his lips have lowered and he’s poised to take an inquisitive step nearer to the newcomer when the heavy crunch of snow being broken underhoof turns their heads nearly in unison.

    Silently, the two watch him. One more closely than the other. Crevan’s thoughts in this body are typically streamlined and they latch onto the fact that the black stallion who looms over them isn’t phased in the least at the sight of two predators roaming his frigid beach. In fact he speaks outright to them both, fully aware that they could interpret and understand the language of Beqanna. For Crevan, this is a glaring sign that either Jesper is extremely familiar with shapeshifters or perhaps one himself. But not a wolf. No.
    Firen confirms it, catching the back twitch of Crevan’s pointed ears when he murmurs that the horse sees them both as a threat - despite the way Jesper’s face appears calm and mildly amused.

    In the second of time it takes for him to twist around so that Firen is at his side and Jesper is fully facing him, the nomadic immortal briefly considers putting on his horse skin to look the Icicle Isle keeper dead in the eye. But the presence of a youngling stops him. He’s overly large for a wolf anyways, and the palpable strain of this experience on the fire-striped boy is enough to keep Crevan as he is, simply to comfort him.

    “As he should.” The navy-eyed shifter replies to the pup first. “But we’re not here to threaten, are we?” He smirks rhetorically.

    “I’m Crevan. My packmate Sabrina and I are interested in making this Isle our den home.” The wolf explains, inhaling deeply before tucking his hind legs underneath him to sit. “We thought this place was barren, not that it matters. The boy-” he peers back at Firen, “-and I were just getting acquainted ourselves.”



    @[Firen] @[Jesper]
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    #6
    Standing before the pair of canines, aquamarine gaze notes the behavior between the new males. Jesper feels a reduction in his bounding pulse and, the stiff, erect hairs, between his shoulders, fall back into place. The equine lowers his poll ever-so-slightly as well. Even though he begins to wind down, sharp antennae remain hyper fixated on the pair. He listens closely to Crevan's words though, also notes the nonverbal cues, which speak just as loudly. The larger wolf offers himself to take point and, naturally, Jesper directs his gaze to match the striking, deep blue eyes of the beige canine.

    The equine hears his name and purpose but, it is not until the male sits down that Jesper truly begins to process what has been said. Crevan. Where did he know that name from? It whispered from his past and, slowly, the black retraced his steps to Sylva. Of course, the initial memories he dredges up are tainted by Morty and Co. However, he cannot recall a direct experience with Crevan. Maugrim, Jackel (he briefly wonders how the smiling lady is these days and then, reminds himself that their encounter with her was not one of his proudest moments), Dynast, Drax, Astarael and Morty the clown himself all come to mind. Perhaps, the wolf lurked in the woods during those times but, did not actively participate. Or, maybe, the wolf was there before Morty; during Sabra's time. Jesper supposes he could simply remember him from any of the Kingdom meetings.

    In any event, a shudder travels down the stallion's spine, which is enough to pull him from his musings. Despite the negative impression Sylva leaves behind, Jesper maintains his calm demeanor. He holds no reservations against either canine. On the contrary, the fox within him chirps and chuckles at the prospect of more canines joining him. If only Merida was about. He had yet to show her his sit! Pulling himself away from his tangent, Jesper re-addresses the pair. "By all means, make yourselves at home. If you are in need of any shelter, there is a cluster of trees on the northwestern side of the Isle. Also, as a territory of Nerine, we may seek shelter or, food, there. Certainly comes in handy when gearing up to hunker down."

    He pauses as he mulls over his next words before continuing. "I hope you can understand that we do not get many visitors here. So, if I came off as suspicious, I do apologize. If I can offer any more insight, please let me know." Jesper plans to linger so long as the pair wish to engage with him. He stands, waitint patiently still, with mass balanced evenly across quad limbs until he hears a response from the canines. For all intents and purposes, the black accomplished what he needed to do. If neither of them have a further need, he is more than content to permit them to go about their mingling while he sees to other important matters.
    jesper
    carnage x bethanie
    devin's∇designs

    @[Firen] @[Crevan]
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    #7
    It is a dance he never had to learn the steps to, it is in his blood, and Firen finds comfort in the ritual. A weight is lifted as the Alpha proves that he is just that, and the young wolf is absolved of any responsibility beyond looking for direction - a task his particular type of magic has equipped him well for. 

    As quickly as their dynamic is established, he is allowed to fall into the shadow of the larger, bolder wolf and observe. The brindle yearling ends his groveling to return to a hunched sit and his ears remain low. Although he is alert and curious, his posture does not show it.  

    With the ocean now to his back, Firen steals a look around while Jesper addresses them. The cold which has begun to nip at the skin of his hairless belly and the hunger rumbling there are firm reminders that he does not want to be left on his own in this unforgiving land, and the way he came was not the same way he would go home. 

    A shiver ripples across his skin as he listens to the speakers thoughts as carefully as his words, cataloging the names and places even knowing most will be forgotten. But one stands out - the one he has heard twice today.

    Merida.

    Neither male has let on that they felt the gentle brush of his mind against their own and the mind reader is emboldened. He wonders who this creature is that two strangers both share thoughts of, and he reaches to see if he can discover more about her from Jesper. But his investigation is cut short as suddenly the attention is back on him. 

    With red eyes, he looks up to the stallion as he is mentioned by the other wolf.

    "Firen, of Tephra,"  he says as his stomach rumbles, and he wraps his tail more tightly across his paws.
    [Image: Firen-insane.gif]
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    #8

    Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow

    CREVAN

    Before Sylva there was Hyaline, and before Hyaline there’d been Taiga. Time marches on around Crevan and he stays the same. Only their world changes and grows. He’d tried Taiga again when he’d first came back and found the idea resented by its leader Aten, could’ve resorted to more savage measures to get what he wanted but found that the idea of forcibly taking control was an exhausting one. The freedom of roaming and being one of Beqanna’s more resilient types just fit him better.

    In fact, he was only here because he’d decided to come on a whim. Some stallion with a good memory named Leilan had brought it up and the idea of a tundra-like island was too good a thing to pass on seeing for himself.

    Now he was here. Apparently Jesper was ok with that. “No further insight needed. I guess I’ll be staying… your hospitality is the kind that makes me feel warm and fuzzy.” Crevan jokes sarcastically towards Jesper. The wet corners of his dark brown nose quiver, committing the horse’s scent to his memory. Firen is another story.

    “Long way from home, aren’t you?” The bold animal shifter comments. One of his ears flicks towards the faint sounds of a clenching belly. A runaway? Seemed too clean-cut for it, too practiced with his abilities. The pup had an intense way of staring right into you. Didn’t bother Crevan, just gave him pause to think.

    Ugh… he really shouldn’t be such a softie. This kid didn’t belong to him, wasn’t pack.

    “I left a half-eaten snow hare buried up by that cluster of trees Jesper mentioned.” His ears fell back, mostly at himself. That kill had been a slippery, hard catch. “Don’t want it going to waste, don’t have time to hunt right now.” The older male shrugged, then lifted his heavy body and shuffled towards the lull of the ocean. Quite a swim… but he has wings. Why go so far north? He thinks, watching the ebb and flow of identical gray waves.



    @[Firen] @[Jesper]
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