06-25-2017, 10:54 AM
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Beqanna
Assailant -- Year 226
"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] No hammer to hold; Any
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06-25-2017, 10:54 AM
06-26-2017, 07:23 PM
Through despair and hope, Through faith and love. Till we find our place, on the path unwinding. Zenith is nearly always hungry. And today, he has been hunting far too long for much too small of game. His long golden back and elbows are low to the ground, his powerful shoulders and haunches level with the tops of the meadow grasses. He is a lion, and he pads softly towards his prey. He does not hunt anything equine, he never has, and probably never will. Maybe that’s why his belly is never really full. Like most days, today he is hunting his usual quarry, ground squirrels, chipmunks, maybe a coyote if he is lucky. The forest provides him with deer and rabbits, but he enjoys the open spaces of the meadow, and often finds himself here despite the lesser game. But all of his thought of food are dismissed when a scent much like his own, yet foreign catches his attention. He sits upright then, all efforts for stealth abandoned, his massive head turning on his maned shoulders in search of the source of the feline scent. And then he sees her. Like a shooting star she appears and disappears in the tall grasses, and he lets out a gruff wuff, which is half laugh and half summons. It would be good to meet another of his kind, or almost his kind, again. ZENITH
06-26-2017, 10:49 PM
With the chill in the wind, Mafdet prefers her smaller form. Heavily furred, with broad paws that grip the branch below her, the female looks down at the field below her. Only her tail is moving - a quick peach twitch now and again. The motion is bright against her plush snowy coat, and is signals that while she is keeping a careful watch she is not truly hunting.
A creature her size is plenty satiated by the prey of the open meadow. The field mice and plethora of birds provide a varied and bountiful diet; Mafdet has never considered leaving this place. She's been here since she first found Beqanna after all; why leave paradise. For the most part she ignores the horses. From time to time she wears her equine skin, but it is only when she absolutely must. That shape is weak and fragile compared to the impressive brawn of the mixed breeds that populate Beqanna. Here, in this shape, she is powerful; muscular, broad shouldered with sharp claws and needles for teeth. Today is no different; the bumbling herbivores are utterly boring. Her blue eyes are watching the quivering grass instead, but the source of the intriguing motion is easily discarded at the low sound. Mafdet chuffs back without thinking about it, dropping down to the ground in a single fluid motion. Once there she crouches low, suddenly cautious. Who had that been? Why are they in her field? She lets out a single curious 'mew' before inching forward to peer over the low edge of a fallen log in search of the strangers. | ||||
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