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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening


    LILLIANA -- Year 206


    "There is still something of himself - something of the Wolfbane who would always love her - that rallies against the slime. It says, 'lie in the bed you’ve made'. So he gathers the covers and tucks himself in." -- Wolfbane, written by Calcifer

    The kind of person that keeps a parrot [Saint]
    She doesn't know anything about politics, she doesn't bring with her words of diplomacy or of war, she doesn't know the history that lurks under the quiet border between Tephra and Taiga. There is nothing to say that perhaps the leaders of these lands have not always been friendly, or whether they now are. There is nothing at all to demarcate the border, the foliage blends until the redwoods fade away and the ferns grow larger, more dense. It is warmer, but that, too, happened slowly, with the creeping scent of sulfur that reminds her of somewhere else. In places, the lava flows, the air above it wavering, shivering, giving warning of the red-hot, molten, rock that rolls below the cooler, black, surface. A break in the canopy gives her a good view of the volcano, the broken-topped mountain is quiet today, but scorched earth underfoot suggests this is not always the case. The soil is dark with decomposed lava rock, breaking down faster than one more familiar with the war might have expected was possible.

    Popinjay has no purpose in entering the kingdom, in fact, she was not entirely certain that she had, at first, but now, stepping carefully around a tangle of vines hanging from a tree only slightly shorter than her own impossible redwoods, she knows that she has certainly left the more temperate rainforest behind. The animals here are so drastically different, not chipping sparrows or blue jays or cardinals flitting from branch to branch and scuffling through the loam and ferns and fog. Even the brightest of her birds, the yellow warblers, the goldfinches, are drab compared to the colorful, jabbering birds of the tropics. She catches snippets of repeated conversations and words among their calls and her ears twitch, eyes turning upward to the canopy.

    Did that bird just say hello?

    It might not be so very odd for a bird to say hello, it could be a horse that has shifted, or perhaps the companion of another, though she has never been able to hear Turul's mind-voice, so why she would hear another's is beyond her. The yearling rears up against a tree though she gains no great height by doing so, and stretches her neck into the air.

    "Hello? Hello! Can you talk? I never met a talking bird before!" She shouts up at the high branches of the tree, standing until she loses her balance at last and drops back to all four legs. The birds above look down with glittering black eyes. Somewhere, one laughs and is answered by a raucous shouting that spreads like wildfire among the flock until she is surrounded by a cacophony of squawking and wingbeats as several swoop among the branches. It is madness, but she grins at it and tosses her head excitedly, ignorant of or simply not caring about the fact that some resident will surely come find her, the din making her location so obvious.

    Tephra is wild and wonderful and everything that Saint has ever dreamed of. The way her heart thrums with the growing of the plants is all that truly matters to her—the magic Beqanna gifted her runs so strongly in her veins that it puts her on edge. As a child, she tossed and turned in her sleep, fantasizing about tearing down all of her kingdom’s enemies. She is a violent creature but only in the quietest of ways: she’ll tear her enemy down before they even know she is there, then run home to eat dinner with Mom.

    Some might call her a monster, but Saint fancies herself a well-adjusted predator.

    Popinjay crosses into Tephra without a thought for borders, that much the dragonness can tell. She watches as her newest ability phases in and out: infrared vision that tells her where the yearling is even as she passes out of sight. Saint smirks, shifting her hooves into the strange scaled feet of a dragon and stalking quietly after Poppy.

    Admittedly, the Tephran princess is startled when the intruder begins yelling. She comes to a sudden halt, talons shifting back into hooves as she straightens her head to its full height. Her infrared vision picks up the vague shape of Popinjay, and she finds herself irritated when she cannot swap to her normal sight.

    So, she steps from behind the lush bushes she is hiding behind and peers at the girl with harsh curiosity. Poppy is but a blur of orange and red. Saint sighs then asks, “They’re able to mimic sound. Are they not in other places? These birds are everywhere in Tephra.” The dragonness squints desperately, attempting to pick out what she can through her impossible vision.

    Popinjay B)
    twin to drache
    leliana's and vulgaris' daughter of tephra

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