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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


    sunshine, won't you be my mother? aquaria
    #1

    let my shadows prove the sunshine

    He tries to forget.

    He tells himself he hadn’t died - it was only a nightmare, long and everlasting in its entirety, but a nightmare all the same.

    He knows it isn’t true; it hadn’t been a nightmare and perhaps he would one day come to terms with the reality of it (that he had died, resurrected, and brought forth life from the dark god that had sentenced him to such a fate), but today - he only searches for something unfamiliar. He looks for something that he could cling to that wasn’t memories, something new and exciting and distracting.

    So, he finally returns to Ischia. It had been a decade since he had last dallied within the crystal clear waters that are known through all of Beqanna for their glorious depths and clear tide pools. Even now, with the shadow of the afterlife hanging over him (and the swell of new life within him), he stares into the pools, watching the hermits crabs as they scurry along, as well as the silverfish that dart between the cool waters as they search for the rising tide for escape.

    He is lost amongst all of these things: the sun, the calm waters, and even the gentle call of parrots within the nearby jungle. All is a distraction most welcome.

    svedka




    @[Aquaria]
    Reply
    #2
    aquaria
    - THE TIDE IS HIGH, IT'S SINK OR SWIM -

    It is another day. Always, another day. One after another, over and over until a year passed and the pale seamare found herself anticipating the birth of another child. A replacement, the cruel voice in the back of her mind jabbed. The guilt twisted her gut when she slowed down, and so she kept moving. All day and into the night until exhaustion granted her mostly dreamless sleep. 

    Today she paced the edges of the mainland, a task she had grown hypervigilant about. Obsessive, maybe, but she had to keep her home and its occupants safe. That was her only goal. 

    The magic the ocean granted her had restored her beauty from the ragged state those first months had worn her to. Funny. Magic made it so that you couldn't let yourself go, even if you wanted to. It could erase the dullness from her scales, it could keep her fins smooth and her hooves glossy and unchipped. It couldn't, however, remove the broken edges in her eyes. 

    The well worn smile was easily hitched on when she trotted up the shoreline. A stranger, something she'd once been so excited about and now could only muster a general pleasantry when one arrived. Still, this was part of the job. "Hello, and welcome to Ischia," she greeted in her saltwater roughened music when she drew near enough. "My name is Aquaria, I'm the Dame here. Anything I can help you with?" 

    It was the same way she greeted everyone. Almost everyone. Words meant to set new faces at ease, because that was why they were here. To offer peace and relaxation to those tired of mainland ruckus. Sand and sun and crystal water, enough to set just about any heart at ease.

    - MY ONLY RIVAL IS WITHIN -


    @[Svedka]
    Reply
    #3

    let my shadows prove the sunshine

    He remembers a time - long before this, long before the beast and even longer - where he had dreamed of going to Ischia. He had wondered about the crystal clear ocean waves; ones so transparent that you could see to the very bottom of the ocean, with all of its rainbow corals and fish and white, perfect sand. It had been merely a dream then, a daydream of a young colt with so much passion and love in his heart that it had been full to burst. That would still ring true, he likes to think, somewhere deep inside. But he had reached and found nothing; only what seems like a missing piece and bloody memories that paint the back of his eyelids every time they close.

    Svedka remembers meeting a girl here once. Lavender and white and as graceful as a swan she would walk upon the calm, rippling waves towards him. In his memory he is dazed, staring out into an empty ocean with an equally empty look on his face, terrible and gnarled wounds - a lion’s claws - running from one side of his withers to the deep muscle of his shoulder, all swollen and inflamed. He had been swimming in the ocean, in this memory, and she had come out to meet him so that she could help him to shore. The stoic stallion finds a soft chuckle on his pink lips as he remembers how daring he had been to swim from Tephra to Ischia just to see her.

    Again, a heart so huge you would swear it could fill the ocean.

    With eyes as blue as the ocean sky that stretches out before them without a single cloud in the atmosphere, the stallion turns his head slowly towards the figure that trots towards him. Svedka blinks slowly, taking in her form with a somewhat far-off gaze. He perhaps wonders if he is dreaming - she shines like the inside of those shells he loves most (the ones that he would bring Kagerus in his youth, where the smoothness catches all the sunlight in pinks and creams) - and despite his condition, finds a weary smile on his mouth.

    “Svedka.” He pauses, as if considering her question and then adds: “Actually, yes,” without hesitation. Turning towards the sea, his head tilts slightly, pursing his lips. Flaxen and blue twirl around his face, salt-dried and crisp against the pale gold and white of his neck. Had it not been for his haggard state, perhaps he would even come across as charming. “Aquaria, would you help me take a swim?”

    It is obvious that she would be able to do so and, in this moment, he knows he would not be able to get in or out of the water (no matter how calm and still those waters were) without assistance. Not when his wounds are still healing and often break apart if he’s not careful of his movements.

    svedka




    @[Aquaria]
    Reply
    #4
    aquaria
    - THE TIDE IS HIGH, IT'S SINK OR SWIM -

    The downtrodden were her specialty. Those worn with life and loss, who needed a break from reality. Those were the ones she knew best how to help, and in doing so she was able to distract herself from her own unhappiness. 

    Her eyes brightened at his name, a touch of genuine pleasure filling the corners of her mouth. "Svedka," she repeated, enjoying the lilt of it on her tongue. Her sleek head bobbed at his request, after a quick glance at the inner island. It didn't have to be a long swim. "Yes, I think we could do that." She hummed. 

    The water lapped the sand with pleasant rhythm, a sound that soothed her even after years of hearing it. It was the sound of home. The pearly nereid paused knee-deep in the surf, looking over here shoulder to wait for the cloud-stained stallion. It was a gentle enough sea they waded into, the cool water glossing her scales where it touched. Easy enough to convince to behave, to be helpful when she asked. 

    It wasn't much to request buoyancy for her companion. Just a little extra salt to hold him afloat, while the water held him in its rocking embrace. It was in a good mood today, and that in turn lifted her own spirits. 

    She guided them a little ways from the shore, deep enough to not touch the sand but not so far out that the currents would be too much for her companion. With the sun on her back and the water beneath her, the world got a little kinder. "So tell me," she said after a little while. "Where are you visiting from?" The world was vast, after all, and it had been a few years since she'd traveled much beyond her own island.

    - MY ONLY RIVAL IS WITHIN -

    @[Svedka]
    Reply
    #5

    let my shadows prove the sunshine

    She smiles at him and perhaps if he had been fully himself (he still is, he reminds himself, but there is an ache that he cannot explain of something missing), he would have noticed that though the smile is lovely on her enchanting face, that she too seems to have a shadow cast over her - much like himself. But he isn’t as observant as he normally would have been and he does not think to question it; especially when she repeats his name the way that she does.

    Part of the stallion feels that familiar stir - that longing to be near to someone, to bask in the glow of their beauty and liveliness, to breathe in their scent and dance with them beneath the moonlight and its shadows. He nearly listens to it, taking a sweeping step towards her to initiate that bold way he would take over the conversation, but then falters. Perhaps it is the way his wounds ache and rip with each step, or the fact that even a beautiful stranger could not quite erase the still fervent memory of dying and being brought back from the dead.

    However, Svedka’s able to offer her that same charming smile he so often wears - sultry and nearly lazy on his pink mouth. She’s so calm, so extravagant, so otherworldly; a beautiful balm against what’s inside him (what he is lacking?). So when she agrees to his idea, he is elated. She steps away from him but Svedka is quick to follow, his pale legs bringing him further into the depths. He’s more confident now with a guide so near to him, for if his muscles were to fail then at least he would be rescued by her.

    He wonders if she is thinking about the terrible claw marks on his golden skin, or if she is merely pretending that they aren’t there. Either way, he is glad she is treating him in such a way that he nearly forgets of their ugly presence, all gnarled and swollen and red from new skin attempting to heal.

    As they float in the calm, gentle waters of Ischia, Svedka begins to relax. He can feel himself becoming weightless, nothing amidst the crystal clear waters. He sighs, his white eyelids fluttering closed over his cerulean eyes. A single pale gold ear flicks towards her, the flaxen and bright blue of his now-wet mane plastered against his damp neck. “Tephra,” he replies gently, opening one eye to peer at her. He pauses, taking time to lick his lips and to taste the salt that dampens them. “It’s always been my home, but there is just something about your calm waters that I cannot find back home.”

    Svedka smiles at her easily, closing his eye with another contented sigh. “Is that one reason why you stay?”

    svedka




    @[Aquaria]
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