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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


    so long and good night; offspring
    #1
    Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you know.
    And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
    the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.

    The shadow child remains mostly ignorant of the ongoing war around him. He has long retreated deep into the neutral zone of the forest when the mere inklings of unrest between the gates and the chamber began to brew. The chamber’s tall pine trees had grown on him yet there was nobody there to keep his fickle attentions. Engelfors had disappeared into the shadows, much like Micahelis does himself at times, and he had moved on from the kingdom after a very brief stay within her shadowy embrace.

    Instead, he had found refuge within the branches of Beqanna’s newest forest. He was a native meadow-dweller, but this place has swiftly become his favorite. The thick canopy overhead provided relief for his light-sensitive eyes and he could wander freely through even the early afternoon when the sun sat at its highest peak. Essentially, this land was the perfect environment for the shadow child.

    He’s learned that many do not venture too far into the trees. If he were to find any interesting pieces for his hoard, he must travel closer to the border of forest and meadow. Michaelis found that he was always searching; those who were powerful, those who were confident in themselves, those who were ambitious. He found many attributes to be attractive enough to be placed within his hoard of shiny things.

    Even though he hasn’t seen some of the people he considers to be his, they still remained in the forefront of his mind. Makai, Sable, Lujza, Wayra, Nebibi – just a few of those he held precious. But his nest was empty of those who were here and now and he longed to fill these open spaces. The shadow child dearly wished to do so for he grew weary of just the shadow-tendrils to keep him company.

    As he grew closer to the border, those same tendrils vied for his attention, attempting to draw him back deeper within the forest and away from any possible distractions. They were jealous things – demanding that only they could hold his affections. Wispy and waving, they twirled about his body and face, always attempting to hide him from others if he would allow it. But he enjoyed company and would not be discouraged in his hunt.

    Michaelis
    ( The Shadow Child )
    Reply
    #2

    lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all.
    but lend me your heart and i'll just let you fall.


      It is within the shadows he feels most at ease. The eerie, spine-agitating sensation of its icy embrace so often envelopes him in a thick fog of disregard, allowing him to withdraw into himself and keep the darkness away from his mind. By becoming one with the shade, he wards off distant memories and tortuous thoughts with a black blankness, further pushing himself into oblivion as he tucks these things far into the deepest recesses of his mind. Today is not unlike any other; he has lost himself again.

      He is a stoic one most oftentimes, and he preferred silence to spoken word. The presence of others was most often craved when bathing in morning light, but as dusk nears and as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, quiet solitude beckons him to deeper depths. His dark, crimson eyes are unseeing - he peers out towards the falling sun, but does not see. His vision is unfocused, as is most of his body. He is breathing steadily as his heart rhythmically pounds against his tired ribcage, but he is detached. A living, breathing mechanism, massive in stature and mighty in thick, sinewy muscle, which twitches and shifts as a familiar ache of stillness begins to set in.

      He draws in a deep breath, shaking himself from his reverie, peering out into the clearing at the very border of the dark thicket of foliage. The coolness of the night air has draped itself across the land, blanketing the summer evening in its icy breath. He turns away from the star lit sky now and delves deeper in to the forest, away from old memories and ancient emotional scars, but finds himself overwhelmed by the soft, subtle scent of another. He pauses and listens warily, his muscles tensing beneath his heavily scarred, obsidian pelt as he observes a shadow figure lurking and loping through the brush.

      Quietly, he watches, drawn in by his presence but altogether unsure of why.

      He allows the rumble of his baritone to break the humming silence of the border, his dark red eyes still set firmly on his ashy blue shape and bright two-toned eyes as he speaks, "It is not often I find someone else in these parts," He murmurs, though it is boosted and echoed by the pines so near to him. "I very nearly didn't see you."



    OFFSPRING
    Reply
    #3
    Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you know.
    And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
    the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.

    The shadows have not always been a part of him. It wasn’t until that horrible quest that involved the giant fairies which changed him. His senses sharpened and enhanced themselves and suddenly he could see the opaque shadow cirrus wrapping lovingly about his body. But they instinctively felt right and they often blended together into one entity. The other hindrance he had was whenever his eyes were left in sunlight, he developed awful headaches and his eyes hurt tremendously. In order to fully accept his foray into the darkness, he supposed his dayblindness was one small price to pay even though it remained a terrible nuisance.

    Michaelis remained untouched by a troublesome past or a conflicting heart. His father had served in a kingdom but his mother had lived in the meadow. He was a wanderer at heart - not interested in petty kingdom politics or making a name for himself. Instead he opted in surrounding himself with troubled souls or successful people. He liked the company and the knowledge that perhaps he had the chance at polishing them up until they shown golden once again.

    He was the one meant to live behinds the scenes, in the shadows where he belonged, while he watched as his treasures shone brilliantly in the sunlight where they could be appreciated and admired.

    A deep voice cuts through the night noises of the forest and mismatched eyes (an inheritance from his mother) meet unusual red ones. His words, though soft, are easily picked up by his extremely sensitive ears. As the shadow child draws near, the tendrils swirl about violently, angry that their night walk was to be disturbed. They attempt to engulf their chosen one, yet Michaelis snaps at their poor attempts of concealment. They quieten down in response and return to swirling about in tense, choppy movements.

    They were absolutely exasperating at times.

    A friendly smile and inquisitive eyes are flashed to the stranger. It’s been awhile since his interest had been peaked and he briefly wondered if this stranger fit his criteria. He was certainly tall, for one. He practically dwarfed Michaelis’ petite yet stocky mustang build. But the shadow child wasn’t particularly interested in one’s physical strength. He preferred the inner layers over the outer any day. He wanted to know what made a person – a brilliant mind, a reckless abandon, a thirst for knowledge, a child-like curiosity, or a ruthless ambition. He was a avid collector whose interest was piqued by a multitude of things.

    A dragon couldn’t explain why it chose emeralds over diamonds to place in its hoard.

    It was driven by instinct and an innate sense of self.

    You’d be surprised how often I’ve been told that.

    He chuckles in amusement for it seems the only striking thing about himself were the surrounding shadow tendrils. Or so it seemed that’s what first drew others to him.

    Michaelis,” he introduces himself delightedly.

    Michaelis
    ( The Shadow Child )
    Reply
    #4

    lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all.
    but lend me your heart and i'll just let you fall.

      He studies him for a long moment, his darkened red eyes boring into him as he listens closely to the rumbling of his chuckle, which lingers within his throat and reverberates in the thick air around them. He draws his gaze away finally, warily eyeing the shadow tendrils that linger around him, wavering with the ebb and flo of its own rhythm, enveloping the male's presence entirely with its own. It is alluring, yet also causes him to be leery. He has not seen anything like it in his many years, and he was still uncertain about the demeanor of the cobalt-painted individual before him.

      His muscles shift and flex beneath his taut coat as he admires his unusual accessory, before his eyes meet with his again, fiery red to his two-toned set. His mind rolls his name over twice before he repeats it aloud - "Michaelis," - and quietly he finds himself valuing the simple, yet eloquent sound of it as he rumbles it out from the larynx. He allows his own stoic demeanor to shift into one of amiable substance, the corner of his lip upturned in a faint smile. "my name Offspring."

       His dark tresses fall in the way of his eyes again, though he does not pay them much mind - he is again observing the thick tendrils of shadow, which weave their way around him, lacing themselves around the foliage surrounding them, accentuating the depths of the darkness that lingered in the darkest part of the forest. Shaded by an impenetrable canopy, he is alone within the shadows with a stranger, surrounded by a powerful force he himself had never come across before - and yet, he is anything but anxious. He is intrigued, and perhaps in a small way, enchanted by them. 

       And he cannot deny, even to himself, that there is something to be said for his two-toned gaze as well. He finds himself drawn in, and for a moment, his mind protests - he is not usually so easily pulled towards something, but there is something undeniable enigmatic and potent about the overtly gleeful exterior of the figure that stand before him. His heart pounds slightly against his ribcage as his blood begins to pump more eagerly within his veins as his adrenaline flows freely through his body, causing his skin to tingle slightly with anticipation. He finds himself puzzled by his own reaction, but he tries to quiet it and stifle it to no avail.

       "The forest is so much darker where you stand. Tell me, Michaelis - what are these?" He pauses as they come dangerously close to him, irate for a moment but quieted - as if they are their own entity. "I have never seen anything like it before, and I doubt that I will again."



    OFFSPRING
    the ice king of the tundra
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