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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening


    GHAUL -- Year 209


    "(souls are not meant to live more than once — death was not meant to be temporary, and she is so sure that every time her heart starts to beat again that irreversible damage is further inflicted)" -- Anonya, written by Colby

    [open]  your new favourite herdmate

    He had been away for a while, a wanderer like so many, and he had expected Beqanna to be the same when he returned. It had been the same for so long – some occasional attempts at changing, sure, but they had seemed to him to be fleeting and temporary.

    Now, Malkin didn’t recognize a single damn thing.

    He had been wandering for a handful of days now, unaware of any boundaries he may be crossing, just hoping that something would smack him in the face with recognition.

    Another sunrise and no luck. Every once in a while there were hints, like someone had chewed up the world he had been born into and then spat it back out. Not recognizable, but you still knew it was, technically, the same thing.

    By the afternoon, Malkin found a forest and his pace slowed to a more leisurely one. This wasn’t the dense, humid jungle he had been born into – but the closeness of the trees was still soothing, still familiar.

    He didn’t know whether he was currently strolling through someone’s home or a neutral territory, but his demeanour was relaxed and un-threatening. He adapted a maroon shade to his coat, not very vibrant but enough to stand out among the golden leaves. It was his favourite shade, you know, contrasting the pale pink of his mane and tail and the vibrant teal of his eyes.

    New colours for a new start? He wouldn’t mind calling this forest home.

    Now he just needed to see if someone would come and chase him out of it. It didn’t even occur to him to call out – he was content to wander and wonder if he would cross paths with anyone. As he did not come here to threaten anyone, he could be discovered and questioned at their leisure.

    image from unsplash

    Starsin and anyone else who wants to say hello!


    The little pink girl had spent the majority of her day bounding through her newly adopted home.  She knew that she couldn’t hang out with Starsin all the time, since she was important and stuff, so she’d taken to exploring every nook and cranny of this place so she didn’t end up lost. Again.

    It was perhaps her greatest fear, bounding away into some other place and not being able to find her way back.  She just needed to make sure she knew her way around until she could use her wings. She figured flying would make everything much easier.  However, her fuzzy wings were of little use to her in that regard at this point in her young life. The girl was so singularly focused on her self-appointed mission that she was doing a very poor job of staying situationally aware.

    So while recognition may not have smacked Malkin in the face.
    Lala did.

    “AGHhh…” she shrieked, as she connected with something very solid in front of her.  She had just enough time to recognize that it was in fact a someone she’d run into as she crumbled into a tangled mess of spindly legs, pink fur, and feathers.  Before she could collect herself enough to get her feet back underneath herself, a pressured, panicked apology poured from her. “I’m so so so sorry! I didn’t mean to,” the words were garbled, but genuine. 

    She righted herself to look up at the stranger - eyes wide with apology and uncertainty. “Are you okay?”

      daydream believer.
     image credit


    A grunt wasn’t so much as spoken but pushed out from Malkin as the bundle of pink collided with him. The impact wasn’t enough to make him more do than stumble backwards (and grunt) and become instantly flustered because he hadn’t been paying attention either. He could have moved out of the way, probably.

    As he watched idly as the filly attempted to right herself, he realized that the impact did a little more than just shift him a couple inches. It awoke that dreadful shape-shifting of his. A quick glance backwards revealed that, though he was still in his horse-form, his once-beautiful tail had become a striped tiger tail and there was a patch of orange-and-black striped fur standing straight up in irritation on his back.

    God, if he could somehow get revenge on his mother for this little inheritance he would love to.

    That appeared to be the only little trait in store for him right now so he turned back to the filly. It was tempting to change his mane colour as soon as he realized that it matched almost perfectly with her coat, but he supposed that could wait until his horse-tail was returned to him.

    “I’m fine.” He mumbled. And then, clearly as an after-thought his teal eyes look her over, an echo of the concern he knew as a father to his children reminding him how fragile foals can be. “Are you?”

    image from unsplash


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