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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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    [open]  You’d be home; any
    #1
    Smile 
    We got older and I should have known
    that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
    The trip continues; south this time, to the Loessian herdland. The idea of being part of Castile’s lands is somewhat strange, as much as the fire-man being part of his had also been unfitting. Then again he might have to say the same thing about the Resort; his being subject to another dragon might just not work. But a herdland, not bothering with politics, well - it wasn’t such a strange thing.

    Even though politics could and would still catch up to him wherever he went… in the end, the ice-attuned stallion might find he belongs only there in the ice, as he always had.

    And yet here he was, with a new friend he’d made and a young mare he was willing to give the benefit of doubt. The field’s climate was temperate, though it probably didn’t snow much this far south. Wintery drizzles would be all he could get, so he’d have to change the downfall himself every time. Hard work for a winter. Would it be worth it?

    A visit then. Putting out feelers.

    The ice-scaled male consciously changes his appearance slightly - to what it once was. Thick scales under icy ones are not much of a difference, and the teeth he’s used to never failed him before. His eyes scan the flowers curiously; though the summer temperature is one he can bear, he wonders why the amount of flowers is so large.

    A question for Cyprin, then; he calls out, standing at the border.
    Leilan
    no. 7 | ice forged in fire


    @[Arquus] @[Cyprin]
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
    |
    #2

    nobody dies a virgin, life fucks us all

    Leilan had grown on Arquus. The silvery-mahogany roan and the less-flashy—all-the-while less modest—hickory toned overo had hardly looked back since the day in the field. They were undoubtably similar in thinking and venturing to each kingdom did give them ample insight into finding suitable residence.

    Though, Arquus couldn’t deny the alterior motive hanging predominantly in the centre of his mind.
    (I wonder how long until Cyprin remembers we are here?)

    Politics were hardly the focus of Arquus, merely immune to that sort of devotion and care. Life became complicated when the thoughts of others consumes the thoughts of you; like voluntarily committing suicide against everything real and raw left of you. It ate the strongest alive and left the weak at the top, hiding behind titles and an army of blood-thirsty devotees.

    Though, the idea of being able to watch the rotational door of royalty without the consequences of blood-spill would be entertaining.

    So, here he is—submissively interested in politics.
    (Just putting out feelers.)

    “Quite the space,” he considers, noting the elegant abundance of flowers and lush grass without the annoyance of blistering heat.


    ARQUUS


    @[Leilan] @[Cyprin]




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