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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


    anyone;
    #1

    how come I never got used to the feeling of sleeping in a cage?
    too long driving, too damn hungry; a tied-up hound but nothing stays

    Despite her blood boiling and a fire brewing in the pit of her stomach, it’s easy to be at peace when she looks down at Dracarys. Following the outburst with Mary, Valdis sought out her daughter only to find the bed of leaves abandoned. While there was a brief moment of panic, she listened as the serpents nearby complained of a girl nearly stomping on them on the way to a claimed Mountain. It crossed Valdis’ mind to follow, to pursue the child and deter her from such a daunting task, but she thought better of it.

    She knows her daughter is fierce enough to survive the trek and any obstacles. If not, then she didn’t birth a child strong enough for the world. It would have been a failure.

    With steely resolve, Valdis turns away from where she last left Dracarys. A single glance over her shoulder confirms that she is once again alone, a sensation that she often bathes in. With Ruinam having left – he seized an opportunity that would’ve been foolish to ignore – the forest seems quieter. There were others, but their voices have dimmed with the change of season. Suddenly, Sylva’s world seemingly shrinks. It feels like only Sinner, Mary, and Valdis remain.

    Her jaws clench frustratedly for a fleeting moment, but it ends with a deep breath and a quiet reminder to herself. Shaking her head, Valdis placidly wanders the forest, aimless and full of thoughts. 
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    Valdis

    Reply
    #2

    Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow

    CREVAN

    His eyes are sharp, but they can't see through trunks and dark tree limbs. Crevan has made himself at home in Taiga but often wonders what’s become of the red-gold forest he used to champion. Does the burrow he made his home remain? Would it smell like Merida still, after all this time? He weaves randomly past roots and over the pine needles underfoot, thinking melancholy thoughts until he resolves to just put them to rest. The off-white curve of his broad wolf’s chest rises and falls with a deep sigh; the next breath he takes is one through rounded lips and blunt teeth - his shifts are becoming smoother and less troublesome.

    As a horse he feels focused, less distracted by the overwhelming sounds and smells that always kept him on edge. He moves southwest with a distinct purpose now, cantering heavily on refined legs that are a few shades darker than the rest of him, breathing through nostrils that cannot smell as well as his other nose but give him great bursts of air he sucks down into his lungs. This body may not resemble his other, but its characteristics are still the same: baroque, thick-barreled with an overarched neck and intricately shaped head.

    The only thing that marks him as unusual is the navy color of his mane and tail, yet both compliment the dark mocha of his skin when they trail over his shoulders and hind legs.

    He is not unattractive, not ferocious... he takes after his father in this form, and his father was one who had two devoted wives in a world where that seemed nearly impossible.

    Breaching the outer boundaries of the autumn woods, Crevan slows to a rough trot and throws his head aside to flip his wet mane. He’s not particularly looking for anything, but he’s exhausted and the day is coming to an end. His trot shortens to a loud, extended walk and he relaxes enough to make sense of where he’s at. Up ahead there’ll be a pale formation of boulders, and after that (if he continues to travel farther south) there will be a breach in the woods and a small pond will reveal itself. He knows these paths and these woods, just like he knows the shadows of his own thoughts.

    “Hmm?” He stops suddenly, seeing Valdis and assuming she’s crossed ahead. They might’ve seen each other at the same time, or she probably saw him before this moment, Crevan couldn’t be sure. “Sabrina?” He questions, because the stallion is ignorant of his packmates horse-shape. Valdis could be her or not. He’d find out soon enough.



    @[Valdis]
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    #3

    how come I never got used to the feeling of sleeping in a cage?
    too long driving, too damn hungry; a tied-up hound but nothing stays

    Crevan’s footfalls aren’t silent on the forest floor as leaves crackle and groan underneath. They catch Valdis’ attention, reeling her from the stormy musings that clouded her gaze. She blinks once, twice, then turns her head to regard the stranger with an unreadable expression for a fleeting moment. Nothing of him is familiar and yet he expertly navigates Sylva as though he belongs to its shadows. Scrutinizing him, she reads the curiosity on his face when he mutters a single name – on in which she, unfortunately, knows.

    A scoff shatters the silence, unable to stifle her adamant distaste for the Queen and her children – even those that remain unborn.

    ”No,” she finally snips as she faces him now, inching closer to continue drinking in the sight of him. More words simmer and tickle the edge of her tongue – insults, really – but she swallows them down for the mild respect of a child. ”I don’t know where she is,” not that she cares what the princess is doing with her time. Admittedly, Valdis hasn’t ever cared much for Mary or anything she touches. When she initially arrived to Sylva, she only knew of promise and hope, but pieces of her life are flaking away. All because of her, because of Mary.

    With a long sigh, she weighs the situation with slight resignation. ”Is there something else you needed that I could help with, or will you run off to find the girl?”


    Valdis




    @[Crevan]
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    #4

    Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow

    CREVAN

    He watches her, absolutely still in the way that only a predator seems to manage. There’s no rapid rise or fall when he breathes, his ears are faintly turned in her direction and his face is completely lax when she scoffs. He hadn’t made a joke. Her laughter was sarcastic.

    The blue-patched mare’s voice resonates between the paper trunks, smooth and white against the overhead of such brilliant color. Winter light falls on them both, rippling with movement like faint dapples across her skin when she slinks closer to eye him even though he doesn’t move. His dark eyes follow her instead, drinking in the strange horse’s mannerisms as she sighs and he thinks how bitter she seems until the short introduction has ended, and the silence is left for him to fill.

    Interesting.

    “No.” He answers. He will not going looking for the girl. “Should I assume that you know her father, Sinner?” The shifter wants to know, his question more of a velvet rumble than words. The sweat drying on his skin irritates him in the cold. He itches to exchange it for another but holds his steady composure, much too invested in who might be lingering around Sylva these days.



    @[Valdis]
    Reply
    #5

    how come I never got used to the feeling of sleeping in a cage?
    too long driving, too damn hungry; a tied-up hound but nothing stays

    His motionlessness reminds her strongly of Sinner, of a predator. While dragon’s blood courses strongly through her veins – it has altered her, strengthened her – Valdis still does not consider herself predatory. Beneath her glistening skin, her muscles quiver uncertainly. She has adapted to her king’s intense stare and advances, but not anyone else. Her body has ever known Sinner.

    But this man – strange in every way – does not edge closer; his reactions to her sharp tongue are even minimal. Perhaps, once that would have enraged her, but his silence and demeanor somehow loosen the tension across her body. ”I see,” she says, for a lack of a better response when he confesses his intention to abandon the search. Sabrina’s name comes and goes quickly enough to ease Valdis’ nerves and soften her voice. As demanding as Mary and her brood are in regards to attention and focus, Valdis gropes for clarity in her thoughts as her gaze traces along him.

    ”Yes, I know him,” she admits flatly, clutching truths tightly to her chest and never betraying how well she knows him, how familiar she is with the warmth of his flesh. Inching nearer, she levels her gaze on his own and drinks in another lungful of his scent. ”I’m Valdis,” it feels nearly an eternity since she last introduced herself. Since arriving in Sylva, she has been reclusive. Every intent to reach out and spread her influence was consumed by her comfort among the trees. Then again, she was never raised to be a true, amicable diplomat. ”Who are you, and what brings you here?”



    Valdis




    @[Crevan]
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