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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening

    COTY

    LILLIANA -- Year 206

    QOTY

    "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


    what it is to burn; any
    #1
    L U X

    When we can crucify our tragedies on overbearing parents or the razor tongues bullies in our foalhood, blame is far to easily painted against the skins and hearts of those who care most. One can walk roads of glass shards without being cut if only they should believe that they are untouchable.

    Lux enters the field not knowing it is more than a thickly spread grass blanket that lay before the homeless and abandoned. Each foot fall of the Arabian is muffled only by the small sounds of crumbling vegetation. Her black eyes are wide with ears moving in the nest of her dark hair. She can smell others but they remain just beyond eyesight, camouflaged on the edge of tree line and great grass sea.

    From the edges of her eyes are shadows and whispers. The sun is warm but she shivers slightly, the flames along her spine a modestly low and burning gently. Lux wonders briefly if she could tear this world apart. Malice was not a bitter drink on her tongue but a genuine curiosity for each world she slipped into was different than the last, each a puzzle box that held secrets that are never truly meant to be concealed.

    One foot after the other, she moves, the grass licking her slender sides. Mars of black smudge the green edges as they greedily dip into the wax drippings that carve their way down her barrel. A crawl of a smile drifts over her black lips as she notices there are others not far up ahead. Lux debates a moment to call but knows that as the sun begins to sink, she would glow against the inky sky and would soon be noticed.

    She has fire in her veins and embers in her eyes
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    #2
    again you’re gone, off on a different path than mine
    i'm left behind wondering if i should follow

    Lepis stands at the edge of the Field, perched at the peak of a hill that falls sharp into the summer-bright plain in front of her. Her golden wings are pulled tightly to her sides, and her blue-marked face is deceptively serene. In this world of magical creatures, the dun is visibly remarkable only for her wings and the navy shade of her markings. Her blue-grey eyes track a far more arcane creature, one who is far more eye-catching than the sturdily built dun mare who watches her.

    Flames dance along her spine, and though Lepis is appropriately wary of fire she finds herself nearly unable to pull her eyes away. It’s an odd sensation, for the stranger otherwise does not seem to exhude other qualities that might catch the tobiano’s attention. She is here for Loess, to see if there might be anyone in the Field that would fare better in her red kingdom than here in this aimless land. The chaos that her king longs for has begun, and in the absence of other responsibilities, the Cleric has come to the Field. Falling back on age-old habit is nevertheless odd; how long as it been since she came here for Loess? Five years? More?

    Lepis reassures herself that comfort will come with time, that slipping on an old dress always feels strange for the first few minutes.

    With that, she descends her hill, and angles her path so that she might come up beside the flaming mare without startling her or cutting her off. Twilight is falling steadily, and the glow of the other mare is easy to track, as is the foreign smell of her skin. Is that where she comes from, Lepis wonders, or the odd substance that drips from her sides? The scarred mare’s eyes linger there for a moment, but there is no stink of burnt or damaged flesh, and she assumes the substance is harmless, at least for the woman who wears it.

    “I’ve seen fire-wielders before,” she says by way of introduction, “but they’ve carried it inside them, not along their bodies.” There is a smile on her face and the very faintest bit of friendship in the air. Not nearly enough to sway another (Lepis has learnt her lesson well), but rather just enough to suggest it and just enough to be easily ignored if the other is not entirely receptive.

    “My name is Lepis,” adds the dun mare, “Am I right in welcoming you to Beqanna?”


    LEPIS
    i’m the one who sees you home--
    but now i’m lost in the woods

    and i don’t know what path you are on


    Lux
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