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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


    [private]  I want to share your sin; elestren
    #1
    ABANDON

    Abandon has only ever felt lost.

    Lost in a world that has rejected him. Lost in a world that has never wanted him. Lost in a mind that has betrayed him from the very beginning. It is a cruelty that wraps long fingers around him and digs into the flesh, but it is not a cruelty born for cruelty’s sake. It is the kind that comes from long, hungry nights. That kind that is fostered in loneliness and ushered into the world under the guise of wanting more.

    It is a hungry kind of hatred.

    The kind that feasts on itself, gorges on its fading promises.

    It’s what drives him, sharp-eyed through the meadow. Watching those who gather and those who pass through. Studying them and trying to mimic them. Pitying them and longing after them. Forever warring in his own head about what he is and what he wants to be. Whether he wants to be accepted or ignored.

    When he sees her, silvery and purple as the moon, he nearly dismisses her entirely. She is nothing if not another jewel against the décolletage of Beqanna. But when he sees the downcast eyes and smells something like panic in the way she refuses to look up, he cannot help but pause. Cannot help but watch her closer—her frightening youth mirroring the one stolen from him. It stirs the hunger in him once more.

    Winding through the flora and fauna, he comes up alongside her, his crimson eyes not bothering to soften. They are as raw as a nerve, demanding, greedy. “You have no idea where you’re going.”

    It would be a question if it were not for the blunt delivery, dull teeth whispering the sharp words.

    I want to see your sadness. I want to share your sin.
    I want to bleed your blood. I want to be let in.



    @[Elestren]
    Reply
    #2
    fell asleep inside a fantasy and woke up feeling lost
    She had hoped to blend in more than she did. She had hoped that by refusing to look up that maybe they would not be drawn to her, but she is so out of place that she seems impossible to ignore. She can feel the way their eyes rake across her, can almost hear the question in the way they look at her. It makes her wonder how often this land gets outsiders – makes her wonder even more how she ended up somewhere she clearly did not belong. Her coloring is not especially flashy, considering the vibrant colors that she has seen just in her short time here. She has no wings, no extravagant horns, or anything else to set her apart from the rest.

    But her fear and her unease seem to radiate from her, drawing them in like sharks.
    She is but a pinprick of blood in a sea, and still, he finds her.

    Her silver eyes lift to his when he speaks, tensing at the abrupt way he addresses her. It further instills the idea that she does not belong here, and that everyone can see it. “No,” she tries not to stammer the word and forces herself to hold his gaze, though she wanted nothing more than to look away. She had this idea that the moment she took her eyes from his face that his teeth would be at her throat, and so she stands, still as she can manage save for the thunderous beat of her heart. “I don’t know where I am.”

    She pauses, and then for no reason other than she is desperate to fill the tense space between them with anything other than his cold stare she says, “My name is Elestren.”
    E L E S T R E N
    Reply
    #3
    ABANDON

    He wonders how somedays he feels like that shark—sharp-toothed and hungry and cold. He thinks on these days that he could tear out someone’s throat and never think twice about it. He could watch them strewn across the forest floor and only feel the barest hint of amusement at it. There is something very cold at the center of him, immovable and inhuman, and he wonders if he has a pulse at all.

    And yet there are other days where he is the minnow. He’s the boy who cried when he realized that his bother was not coming back for him. When his namesake became his birthright. He is the boy who felt outnumbered in any crowd, constantly looking for some advantage, constantly aware of his weakness. On these days, he feels desperate for some kind of affection—to be plucked out and loved completely.

    How tragic that she found the shark.

    “I can tell that,” is all he says when she affirms his suspicions and he smiles, but his face looks all the colder for it. He doesn’t acknowledge her name or give her his own in return. (Why give someone that kind of power over him? Why let them know the most vulnerable parts of him at all?) Instead he just gives her that strange, piercing look, red eyes washing over her as if trying to pick out what lies beneath.

    There’s a moment where he studies her before he finds her gaze and holds it.

    “How did you end up at a place that you don’t know, Elestren?”

    He always did like how his tongue could twist a question into a threat.

    I want to see your sadness. I want to share your sin.
    I want to bleed your blood. I want to be let in.



    @[Elestren]
    Reply




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