[open] wild women don't get the blues - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Meadow (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=3) +---- Thread: [open] wild women don't get the blues (/showthread.php?tid=26454) Pages:
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wild women don't get the blues - mako - 03-26-2020 In the end, all that had really mattered was her ability to survive. Mako’s sense of otherness alienated her from even her siblings. She felt especially scorned by her family, a withered scar she wears proudly upon her chest. I’m fine, she had told herself when it (that cold, biting wind of loneliness) first started. Mako was barely old enough to understand the way she froze even when the sun beat lovingly down on her, but it covered her child’s heart with vines of poison ivy. No matter how many times she scratched that itch with words of affirmation, it never subsided. She had turned into a beautiful thing, little Mako. From long, pale, spindly legs into a swirl of silver and blue. She wears her mother’s colors like a crown, the proud visage of the blood of dragons. Mother’s dead, she spits at herself when her ego grows too overblown. And no crown, no kiss, no embrace of family will change that. Castile wasn’t a bad caretaker, and Loess wasn’t a bad home. In fact, Mako felt the most comfortable there, for chaos and ambition suits her. Castile taught her enough of the dragon scales glittering on her skin, taught her enough of power and drive. They had mourned together: Castile, the death of a daughter—and Mako, the death of a mother. Instead of bringing Mako closer into her family, it brought her farther—this grief she thinks is so much more special, so much more intense than the rest of them. And so she wanders now, a glittering beast amongst the vibrant splashes of wildflowers. Her head tilts higher and higher and higher, until her chin can no longer move and her eyes are blinded by what is left of golden sun. Thunder cracks in the storm clouds racing to cover the warmth that will never keep her close, and Mako rolls her shoulders to settle into what will surely be a cleansing storm. RE: wild women don't get the blues - Garett - 03-29-2020
@[mako] <3 RE: wild women don't get the blues - mako - 03-31-2020 The water sings to Mako like the fire sings to most of her family. The frost she wears upon her hide is prideful and glittering, the mark of the enemy amongst a dragon’s den. Mako would be lying to herself if she thought she didn’t grow up incredibly proud of her supposed infiltration (and she would be lying to herself if she thought her affinities didn’t alienate her). Like a queen to a people that didn’t accept her, Mako spent her life peering down disdainfully at fire and brimstone. So when the rain calls, wistful in song but vengeful in grip, Mako turns an open face to the tears she knows the sky sheds just for her. The sound of her frost hissing beneath a pelting thunderstorm makes her heart race. Sometimes, when her mind has gone just quiet enough, she can convince herself it hurts to lose her frost—as if it is as much a part of her as her skin and bone. Perhaps this is why Mako is not particularly disgruntled when Garett disturbs her meditated waiting. He is green and brown, like an elegant and smooth sapling—so vastly other to the chaotic heat in Loess. “I love any kind of rain but, yes, I especially love storms.” Mako’s voice does not express the pleasant surprise she feels at being asked such a question, nor does it reveal how much she admires his shadowy brown and foliage green. Those glances to study his colors, fleeting and near-nervous, are quietly hidden by the unphased way Mako carries herself. She is almost robotic, the melodies of her voice covered by a practiced rise and fall. Fat, heavy droplets begin to plop here and there, occasionally slapping hard against Mako’s scales. “Do you?” she asks Garett, then flicks her eyes to the gray sky. “I think it’s a little too late, if you don’t.” A tease, but one that falls short on its delivery. @[Garett] RE: wild women don't get the blues - Garett - 04-16-2020
@[mako] RE: wild women don't get the blues - mako - 04-22-2020 “Oh,” is all Mako can initially muster. Afraid of storms? she thinks, suddenly feeling as if she is responsible for placing him beneath the thunder. Her eyes flit slowly to the bulging clouds and then back down to Garett’s unwavering green gaze. The rain continues to fall, slowly picking up its pace as if to build to something huge. Mako quickly comes to a decision. “We should get you out of here, then,” she calls over the noise. The edge of the Meadow and the Forest isn’t too far off, and if they run fast enough, they should be able to find cover beneath the canopy before the downpour is blinding. “Let’s get beneath the trees!” she calls while turning, hoping the sight of her galloping through the wavering grass will spur him into action. A strike of lightning crosses the sky, illuminating everything in such sharp silver that Mako thinks she cut herself. For a moment, she forgets about her frightened companion, exhilaration and wonder giving her tunnel vision. Alive, so alive! She feels so alive and it takes the last shred of herself to remain on course to the trees. Clap. And then a flash. Mako comes to a reckless halt beneath the canopy. Damp leaves squelch beneath her back hooves when she pivots to look for Garett, eyes wild enough to rival the lightning above. Suddenly, she grows hot and embarrassed, taking a step back and tucking her chin close to her chest. “Sorry I teased you . . . I’m Mako.” @[Garett] RE: wild women don't get the blues - Garett - 04-27-2020
@[mako] RE: wild women don't get the blues - mako - 05-06-2020 Mako is embarassed because even her family does not know of her love of storms. The way thunder thrums like wardrums when she runs. The way lightning strikes to light her way. The way rain falls to wash her clean of all shame, all displacement. Oh! How it makes her feel alive, aflush, anew. She burns bright red, like her family's fire, somehow not muted by the shadows of gray clouds. The shame slowly melts, like the occassionally hissing frost on her hide, as the scaled girl realizes how terrified Garett is. "Yes," she answers with a shy smile, thinking she knows nothing of facing her fears. She can't return to where her mother's body rests, for instance. She can't bear searching for her father. Such an innocent question, so capable of lodging a lump in Mako's throat, keeps her from saying more. Instead of returning the nicety, the girl stretches forward to brush noses with Garett. She thinks it easy to meet him so instinctually, with his nonjudgmental eyes and forgiving voice. A grin so bright it nearly glows lifts Mako's lips when the earthy boy speaks again. "Oh, wow," she says, subconsciously lifting her eyes to the trees in thought. "They feel as wild as I do. It's almost as if they are expressing something I don't know how to." She doesn't mention that they are the opposite of draconic home, mostly cool and soothing and fresh. "Why don't you like them?" she asks, nearly whispering. A desire to reach forward and barely brush her mouth against his pulse suddenly makes her heart race - she wonders if feeling his heartrate will help her better understand, like the way rain feels in her mane just feels right. @[Garett] RE: wild women don't get the blues - Garett - 05-09-2020
@[mako] RE: wild women don't get the blues - mako - 05-14-2020 Mako's heart thrums wildly beneath the captivated attention of Garett. She matches his vivid green gaze with her pale one, cheeks flushing hot as she realizes just how seen he is making her feel. Her family always paid attention but - she is one of three triplets, and their wildness always outmatched hers. Her wildness never seemed to fit in and even as the plant manipulator is frightened of the only thing that matches her ferocity, she feels he accepts it so much more. As flustered as Mako is by Garett's attention, she doesn't miss his flinch. She wants to draw next to him, to brush her scales against his fur in the hopes that it will comfort him (and perhaps touching her, the embodiment of a storm, will help him understand them better); but she doesn't, not now. Instead she feels the blood rush to her face once again when he whispers he likes her explanation. "No!" the scaled mare practically gasps, eyes going wide. "No, not at all," this time murmuring. Her heart continues to beat wildly, but it's no longer in time with the thunder. No, Mako is gently nurturing a crush. She wants to press her ear to Garett's chest and match her breathing to his. To know what it's like to be so soft, so welcoming. To know what it's like to look at her wildness and not fear or misunderstand her. "I -" she starts, attempting to explain something, maybe the way she can't seem to look him in the eye anymore; but instead that unruly nature of hers overcomes once again and she leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Garett's cheek. "I don't think you're silly," Mako whispers, leaning back and smiling shyly. "Do you want to get out of the rain? I . . . want to talk more but I don't want you to be uncomfortable." @[Garett] RE: wild women don't get the blues - Garett - 05-19-2020
@[mako] |