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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


    Time and time again, I commit the same old sin; any
    #11

    He shies sideways with mock affront as the red wytch reaches for his knee with blunted teeth, though his gilded head serpentines back towards the mare with a loud snort, followed by unfettered laughter at her display as she works to stand against the cool sand of the beach. "You can't fool me," he says warmly with a smirk twisting at the corners of his lips as she groans and shakes the sand from her red frame, "I know you're still young enough to put Takhar in his place." And she'd never hesitated when the need arose, either ─ which, admittedly, was quite often considering the rebellious nature of Takhar's very existence. It was one of the many reasons he had come to love the soothsayer.

    Love.

    It had been around the time that Aya had tampered with the waters that flowed through Eternal that the akhal-teke stallion had begun to see Jah-Lilah in a different light. From the time he had met Ciri, the red soothsayer had been a permanent staple in his life. She had worn many hats in that time: healer, life coach, milkmaid, closest confidant. And Amet had always been caught up in one crisis or another that had effectively distracted him from the way he had truly felt about Jah-Lilah all along.

    But Aya's magic had allowed him time to finally realize what it was he felt for her ─ and then, once the magic of the earth-mother had worn off, his true feelings for Jah-Lilah had remained. Of course, as was the story of his life, Amet's timing was off. Eione had been pregnant with their first and only child. Jah-Lilah had been distracted by Gypsy and the long-term absence of Canaan. And then... the ice age.

    But now they stand before each other again, embracing as they have always done, and Amet's heart threatens to beat straight through his chest. Dragon-King, she calls him, familiar and comforting as she plays at the scales and mane near his withers. He returns the favor, working methodically to groom her as a gentle rumble of laughter creeps up from his chest.

    "An invitation," he tells her plainly, excitement dancing in his molten amber eyes. If there was anyone in the world aside from his own sister who knew just how much Hyaline had always meant to him, how much of his heart he had given to it ─ it was Jah-Lilah. "I've secured myself a throne in Hyaline again, beside the current Primarch Kensa. And I don't think I could handle if you and I were separated again." The words come out with a hint of amusement, a playful mask to hide the truth behind them, and he falls silent as he awaits the soothsayer's response with bated breath.



    ─ don't get cut on my edges
    @[Jah-Lilah]




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    #12
    Jah-Lilah
    I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain
    Many times I’ve been alone, so many times I’ve cried.


    After his feigned fear, he laughs at her and calls her bluff. As naive as the young king was about all these mares he seemed to love so much, he sure was well-versed in the wytch’s ways. It didn’t bother her, she had no desire to deceive or mislead her dearest friend anyway. The mention of her son causes a smile to grace her features, and warmth radiates from her core. ”How is my wayward cub? Still sowing his royal oats wherever he pleases?” She chides the scaled stallion, but the concern in her voice is not easily masked. Lightening the mood with a joke, she smirks and tosses her head. ”You know, for him to not have sprung from my womb, he sure does take after me…”

    Standing comfortably with the desert-born, she reflects silently on the tribe she had built and then lost since coming here. How ironic that they and their progeny were the only ones left, yet not once had they come together to create a life of their own genetic makeup. So many others for them to nurture, to raise, him inside the walls of his leafy castle, and her wherever the wind blew her.

    The Wind.

    Their love had been as intense and fleeting as a tornado, and just as much of a natural disaster. However, my mare has loved and lost before, died a thousand deaths and lived twice as many lives, and this will not be the heartbreak that kills her. There is still so much left for her to do. And so she will do it, as happy and free as she’s ever been.

    They stand chest to chest in momentary silence, enjoying the familiarity of one another again. Closing her eyes as he tends to her filthy coat, she allows herself to relax and cock a lazy hindleg, one ear turned to him. Listening as his smooth baritone fills her head, she perks up a bit at his offer, made a bit excited by the prospect of a new adventure and something to do. After a purposely drawn out pause, she decides she’s made him squirm long enough. With more reluctance than she would ever let on, she agrees.

    ”I cannot promise you that I will grow roots there, Dragon-King, but I will come. For you, I will be there...at least for now.”


    Anyway, you’ll never know the many ways I’ve tried.
    she is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness
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