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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


    jackel –
    #1
    City loved to switch back and forth between forms, and the more she does it, the more seamless it becomes. Her age slows her at everything and shapeshifting is no exception to the pattern of her decline. There is life in her yet, but things certainly do not look or work the same with her rickety old body.


    The night is a good time to lay in the trees and watch the world below. The unsuspecting occupants of her field of vision are always entertaining as the pale cat drifts in and out of sleep. Before the sun fell she climbed the big oak that spreads its arms far and wide by the rushing water. The tree’s limbs are fat and comfortable for a jaguar of her size, not huge by jaguar standards. 


    As night falls deeper  she settles on a favorite branch and sprawls out. Her yellow eyes idly raking over any action below, nothing of real interest, and she lays her chin to the bark, her tail flicking as she falls into a light sleep. Her dreams are spun with the quest the faeries had given her  ̶  it was getting a bit more pressing with her rapidly declining health. She sees the day, the day Padme was born, the day they told her she could be blessed with phoenix immortality if she could manage to find more information on the subject… It replays in different ways, in echoing colors and sounds, flashes of nonsense and pretty things in between memories. 


    The elderly jaguar dreams with her tail swaying over the massive branch. The chilly winter’s night not touching her beneath her thick pale fur (unlike the usual black or orange). She is snow white, grayish muzzle, and her pattern made of faded rusty red  ̶  the same as her freckles, the remnants of her washed away bay color when she was young. She’s well above the average horses’ head, but not that hidden to anyone who might be seeking shelter from the frigid temperatures or sudden snowfall over the course of the night. 


    @[Jackel]
    Reply
    #2
    I’ve lost track of time altogether


    I don’t know my age or the count of years that have blurred past, and my only tick to some semblance of time passing is the number of wildlings I seem to keep giving birth to.  Which happens quite often anymore.  I’d say I need to take that down a notch too, like I thought I needed to not be such an adorably messy eater, but that would mean I’d have to give up the fun part of that business and I really enjoy the old wham bam thank you, ma’am, far too much to even consider that.  I mean, that’d be like asking the birds to stop buzzing and the bees to stop chirping.


    Crazy.


    The giant that holds me this evening is gentle and forgiving when I climb towards his crown, hardly flinching as my claws find purchase in his scratchy flesh.  I’ve cloaked myself with invisibility tonight, and I watch with waning amusement as the world slowly drifts by below me - until another feline catches the wild roll of my roving eyes as she approaches.


    What’s this? we ask.
    Watch her and see what she does.
    Watch her and see.
    Watch her.
    Watch her.
    Watch her.
    Watcher.
    Watcher.
    Watch.


    And I do, very keenly at that.


    My tail flicks in anticipation as she easily makes her way to a perch just beneath me.  I take this as a sign of divine intention, but Haide tries to tell me otherwise - tries to tell me not to bother.  I shut her up with an apple in the piehole and my smile grows a tad more freakish when I decide to engage.  


    My tail coils around the branch to act as an anchor, and melting my body into elasticity, I roll off the branch until I am hanging upside down, staring at her with my odd black eyes almost nose to nose with where her head rested.


    “Hi, whaaaaaatcha doin’ all the way up here? Are you sleeping?”




    @[City]
    first of all, i am sorry for this. second, for clarity sake she was an invisible cheetah watching city and then she turned off the invisibility to hang upside down like a freak and talk to her
    Reply
    #3

    A soft rustle above her head brings her yellow eyes blinking open. The pale cat is startled, but doesn’t betray so – the other feline dangling down from the branches above, eyes black and suspiciously freaky. Beqanna always has its surprises, doesn’t it? Even an old girl like City gets a bit of a shock once and again.

    Instead of recoiling with a growl, City yawns, her flicking tail the only evidence of her heightened anxiousness. “I was.” she purrs with a drag in her tired voice. “Being old exhausts you.” she sits up on her haunches, the branch wide and strong enough for her to do so comfortably. “And what of you then?” she levels her cold eyes onto the suspended cheetah. “What are you doing all the way up here waking old jaguars from their slumber?

    The darkness made it quite hard to see much. Bright, flickering lanterns hang all over, littered throughout the leafless branches of the tree tops. All light struggles to live, so the gentle pulse of firelight is dim, but enough to see some things if they’re close enough. Combined with keen feline vision, taking all available light to see the dark world, she is not so shook by the eclipse that has wallowed the world. (The monsters are a concern, for sure.)





    @[Jackel] i hope this is an okay time to start this back up!
    and dont you dare apologize I ALREADY LOVE THIS WEIRDO xD

    sorry my reply is 1000 moons after i said it would be <3
    Reply




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