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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


    [open]  Do you feel the breath of sunken apparitions; any
    #1

    out in the deep, i've seen something real
    the mouth of the void that the waves conceal

    There is a song through the sea, a discordant and disharmonious melody of corrupted static and white noise that rises in pitch like a scream… that pierces the very waves and depths, that stretches across the foamy shores and all the grains of sand. Bubbles in the blackness begin to rise and like boiling waters it grows and grows until all the sea is raging and stirred. Waves ebb and flow and pound against the stone and sand: against rock and boulder alike.

    Charybdis, glorious sea-beast, God how she churns.

    Maw and tide begin to quell but amidst the grey skies and blackened… inky waters, the shape of something amorphous and grotesque begin to manifest and take root. Like a mockery of an equine it shifts and strays: long legged and thick with muscle. Yet? It’s face is a bizarre reality- a mask of long tendrils ringed around a black beak that chitter and chuffs, tentacles form on its shoulders and stretch in almost six feet of reach… lashing and swiping with barbed suckers.

    Unumbered tendrils take place of mane and tail, and it’s flesh shifts and strains with bizarre color and texture changing features. Porous and wet it glistens beneath the moonlight and ink drips across it’s form as if it were water. Blinking the orange eyes the barbell shaped pupils narrow and it moves across the shore without hesitation for fear… without any sort of regard for the land around it.

    Through the wind and through the rocks there is a piercing scream: a sharp sound that rattles the earth as the Aeon’s eyes begin to adjust and it lashes against the wind.

    Yidhra, she remembers, Yidhra was the name of the vessel.

    She, though it hardly understand the concept of gender, moves with the graces of a predator: stalks quietly and slithers amidst the rocks… capable of climbing and stalking through the grooves and holes… through the caves and chunks of fallen rock.

    Pangea had been beneath the sea once, and it’s evident by the bones of whales and porpoises alike… by the corpses of fish. Their soil is fresh and fertile, the land in bloom, and she walks along the shadows and dead gardens of algae and grey coral. To the very heart she walks, to the very place where Carnage dwelled: where she had been reborn… that is where she settles.

    Patience is her virtue in the moment, however, and she drags a tentacle across the ground as she studies the shells and broken sand dollars. There is no laughter, however, and the Aeon saunters about without fear and without hesitation- in fact… she employs a tactic of her own.

    Like a leeching poison the air grows heavy and thick, the moisture rises and the temperature drops- a field around her form as the Kraken’s boldness arises and through the air a primordial sensation of fear begins to grow and rise… to tangle through the heaviness and the chill. Her every sense prickling as she looks around, as she studies shadows and allows her beak to click as she waits.

    Yidhra
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