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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


    baruch attah adonai - any, all
    #1
    oh, where do we begin? the rubble or our sins?
    She’s been lazy - no, they’ve both been lazy. Indulgent. Lost in each other like two over-the-moon little yearlings, when the truth is that they’ve done and lived enough for five lifetimes. Yael stretches her wings today, leaving their tree and the world they’ve created beneath its boughs. B’kanna ran on and on and on while they tucked themselves away, and it leaves the golden woman with an uneasy feelings - as if they didn’t quite belong here anymore. They were relics of an old world, and all their friends were either dead or gone. It’s hard to live that way. Your days become a blur, blending together, especially when her children are off on their own, and there is no trouble knocking at their door.

    She knows of the newcomer, Vidar, and the goings-on by the dinosaur bones. She’s brought back a new recruit, and reunited with Kark. Yael knows, and yet she does not “know” them anymore. Eliora is all grown up, and Qatar looks more like his sire every day. Shahrizai and Ilka are lovers like herself and Vanquish, and yet she could not describe the look in their eyes when they gaze on each other. And what of Feyre, and their various adopted children? Munroe, Kabechet, Volcan, Siloam - or Kratos? Her heart does not sit well in her breast, to feel like a stranger to their small contingent. And so she soars low over the sands, traversing back and forth over the miles of unmarked dunes and hidden oases, and when she finds them, she sends them a brief, but sincere message. An apology. An invitation to come and chat, if they like.

    What’s important is that they know she’s still here. As she’s always promised to be.

    Yael skims low over reeds and lands at the edge of a large pool of water. She holds her wings aloft, allowing air to circulate in and around her body - for the day is warm (it is winter, so the weather is far more bearable to the average horse), and her activity has made her sweat. The consort decides to wait patiently, to see if anyone will decide to come. In typical Yael fashion, she made no commands and her invitation was not full of pleading. It would be a pleasant surprise, she thinks, if more than one of them showed. And if more than three came? Why, she might even call it a party.

    YAEL
    mother, queen, magician
    #2

    zenzi

    The cocoa woman felt the slight chill of the large shadow wash over her rapidly before the spring sun once again warmed her. The dark eye lift to see the familiar face of the golden woman who had extended the invitation to join the Deserts. She witnesses the mare land, finding purchases with nails digging into the ground. Zenzi decides to approach the only face she knows, perhaps they could chat a bit.

    Limbs move the mare towards the bronzed pegasus. Her wings are large, no huge. They extend much larger than the equine herself and Zen wonders a bit if the weight were ever unbearable for Yael. Zen had lived a long time but she had never actually flown and wings were always a slight fascination for her.

    "Yael." She speaks the  other's name when she is closer. A smile is touching her dark lips when her skull dips slightly to the other in greeting. Her movements are fluid, flawless with decades of practice. It was seemingly rehearsed. Zenzi did know that just because she knew her, did not make them friends. There was still a matter of formal politeness that some required but perhaps in the future they could grow to lose such formality but for now it was best. "Good to see you again."

    This is the last night you'll spend alone
    Look me in the eyes so I know you know

    #3



    The sand parts beneath his hooves like predator’s teeth through warm flesh as the titan bullies his way across the dunes, chasing his Golden Queen’s shadow. A bellow thundered from the depths of the dragon’s throat as he calls up to her, drawing up beneath the rush of her wings. The Willow and the Oak had been together so long it was only natural that their boughs intertwine, the Nightwalker could feel the thrum of Yael’s heartbeat beneath her skin and the sway of her mood by the pucker of her lips.

    The magician slips from the sky too many strides ahead of him, the metallic sheen on her skin casting a pearlescent sheen in his eyes as his black gaze swallows her whole – greedily, selfishly. Sharp talons etch a trail in the sand behind him as his wings drag in his advance towards his queen, his head tilting curiously as the silver-maned mare approaches Yael with a familiar greeting.

    “I am Vanquish,” he says, gaze flickering shrewdly across the unknown mare’s face before softening across Yael’s. “My queen,” the Percheron says, head dropping reverently before raising to allow black lips to pull at her mane.


    .

    vanquish

    black king of the deserts

    #4
    Scalped is thinking of Kitra, as her daughter slips alongside her growing and graceful. She is spotted like her father was, but there is one thing the medicine hat knows that her daughter doesn’t - Stoney inherited her mother’s immortality, she just doesn’t know it yet. She sighs; the girl will discover it in her own time, she supposes, best now to enjoy what time she has left with this one by her side since all the others are grown and gone. The medicine hat mare feels the girl rub her face against her shoulder, and all she can think of is black skin in the desert sun, shiny like the gold that accented her and it isn’t like Scalped to dream of another mare but there was something about Kitra…

    She has not seen the black mare in a long time, and hopes that nothing has happened to her beyond the usual whims that come to them all. Her lips bend to tuck a stray piece of mane behind her daughter’s ear and in the distance, she spies the golden queen aloft in the skies. “Come Stoney,” she says, nudging the girl down the dune they occupy until the two fall into step together. “We’ve not been very friendly, sequestering ourselves away in the kingdom.” It is a fact that Scalped isn’t entirely sure she wants to amend, they’ve taken refuge here and the sands have served their purpose well but she and her get have done nothing for the kingdom itself but leeched off its kindness.

    The medicine hat is an old mare though, immortal, but still old and she does things the way she does them and lately, she has done little more than raise a gathering of foals - some her own, and some not, hoping that one of them might do more than she has done and actually make something of themselves in the Deserts. Stoney seems to be the most promising of those since the girl has stayed the longest, the rest left as quickly as they dropped from her loins it seems like. The pair make the short trek across the sands towards the golden mare, joined by two others from what they both can see and one is a large hulking stallion that causes Stoney to tuck herself away on her mother’s opposite side in an attempt to hide. Scalped thinks it really is a pity her daughter is so sheltered.

    “Yael,”
    she says with a nod to the only one she knows there. Her eyes take in the massive black stallion, deciding that there is something familiar about him and it must have something to do with Kitra, she surmises. To the unknown mare and him, she inclines her head in greeting and introduces herself as well as her daughter; “I am Scalped, and this one here is Stoney, my daughter.”


    ooc: it's poop but there ya go!
    [Image: commission____scalped_by_pegasusstudios-dahbsg9.jpg]




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