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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


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    #1
    Paola didn't mix with the other mares. She tried at first, convincing herself that these mares weren't like her old herd and wouldn't cast her out simply because of her looks. After a while though the little mare grew paranoid. With every whisper, every burst of laughter she was certain they were talking about her. She felt like she was going to burst into tears. In the end she simply couldn't take it anymore and found herself wandering over to the empty part of the fields, alone again.
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    #2
    With my speechless calm eyes,
    nothing is coming to rise.

    It has been a while since he had last visited the field. Nowadays the Tundra was bursting with life. Not only did the layer of snow that painted the lands white thinner, but the brotherhood had also grown. Although, Brynmor couldn’t really call it a brotherhood anymore, he now had sisters too. The Tundra’s lord still didn’t really know what to think of it, of accepting mares into their ranks, but he had to admit that the Tundra had grown because of it. Both casted were growing, he no longer was the only diplomat nor warrior, instead he soon would have to defend his position.

    However, all that didn’t mean that he would leave the field visits to others. He too liked to travel from time to time. Upon arriving his gaze instantly follows the lonely mare. She isn’t around others, looking somewhat timid too, and the graying stallion decides to approach her calmly. He nickers once he’s within hearing distance, not rushing himself and hoping to not surprise her. ”Hello, I’m Brynmor. Are you looking for a home?” He has never been the one to chitchat, or at least, not when he came with a certain reason.

    BRYNMOR

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    #3
    The stalion found himself in tall grass, he lifted his head, barely seeing above the blades. His dark coat making the summer heat hotter. He was sweating, and miserable.

    He finially comes to where it's shorn down by generation upon generation of grazing. He's timid, always getting missed and nearly trampled has a way of doing that. He sifts through the sceen, His two orbes of the sky catch a mare. She looks shy, even more than he himself would admit. He puts his head up, trying to appear taller, closer to her height. At only 8.2 hands, that would be quite the feat. He whinnies as he gets closer, to not startle her. He startles himself with his own whiney, making poor Dungaree jump. He's always been a loner, but he hopes oneday he won't be.
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