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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


    [open]  you're the means and the end
    #1
    asphyxea
    i've been around this world and now everything's a bore
    i don't know that much, but i know about keeping score
    With a crescendo of whips and snaps, Asphyxea crashes through loosely grouped trees to the pebble-strewn shore of a quiet cove. She comes to a sliding halt in the water, liquid splashing upward to spatter her teal and gold fur. Moonlight from an oval opening opposite her illuminates her panting, alive face as the furious snarling of hungry wolves sings behind her. She cranes her neck around to peer at the direction the wolves are following her from, face now shadowed as her aquamarine mane glitters beneath the moon.

    Around her is pockmarked rock, save for the opening steeped by levels of rock and gently falling water. She could run for it, escape into the light and toward the ocean; but what fun would that be? Instead of fleeing those that wish to make her prey, Phyx turns back around to study the clinging vines trailing up the damp rock walls, then back to the trees and the sparkling pebbles.

    The chorus of wolves grows louder.

    Phyx digs her talons into the sucking mud, cursing her parents for not passing on their wings. She'd light the creatures on fire from above once she was finished with them, but it appears as though her only option is potentially losing their chase through the stacked waterfall. The princess snorts to herself, nodding her head up and down energetically before turning to splash into deeper water. She is just in time, too - for the wolves now crowd the bank and splash desperately into the once-calm cove.

    Boisterous, haugty laughter peals from Phyx's throat as she launches onto the first waterlogged ledge, talons digging into the silt and rock for a better hold. From here, she sees how the opening stretches into a wide river and even wider ocean. She gallops now, out of the water and into rough sand that kicks up as she goes. The wolves nip hungrily at her heels, frantically attempting to surround her but not quite fast enough to form a circle.

    Phyx cackles now, barreling toward the gentle washing of the winter ocean. Smoke rolls from between her open lips, twisting and spiraling around her sharp teeth and gold lips.

    When she reaches the sea that the predators won't dare venture into, she'll blast them with fire and fury.

    As long as they don't catch her first.
    and if there's one thing i know for sure,
    it'd be a long cold day in hell when i take you back

    i think she's a psychopath but we'll see
    Reply
    #2

    Lightning laughs, choosing her tree

    Popinjay wears her feathers today, relishes the feel of the sky rippling beneath her wings. It has been too long since she tasted the clouds, a brief, dull interval she intends to forget completely. Well, mostly.

    A peal of laughter catches her attention far below, her eye finds the distant shapes of predator and prey. The mare doesn't run like prey, though, and from on high, Poppy tips her head curiously, begins her descent, and is fully horse again when she lands, small and dark, her black mane full of loose curls and witch's knots and crackling sparks. Nobody pays her a second glance. She has never met this clawed horse that scrabbles up the algae-slick ledges, but there are few that match her description. No, she is certain that the girl one of the dragonlings, and she's alone, except for the wolves nipping at her heels as if they cannot smell the smoke and the fire in her throat.

    Popinjay watches from a distance, the benefit of her eagle eyes allowing her to follow unhurried,  uncertain why the pack would chase this prey - they should have more sense. Perhaps she should let them meet the fate they pursue so fervently, awash in flames, but she does not feel like waiting anymore. A bright crack breaks the air between palomino and pack and the wolves scatter, whining, yelping, as the little bay waltzes out onto the sandy soil from where she had been near invisible among the trees, and she spares no look at the foolish hunters. The sharp smell of chlorine flavors the air around her.

    Dark eyes trace the claws and swirls and jade antlers, and Poppy thinks those tines would look lovely among the night-black flytraps that have sprung up since this tawny and teal child took part in the burning of Nerine, and she smiles her wide smile, flashing white teeth.

    "Oops."

    Image by Fiery-Vulpes


    @[asphyxea]
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    #3
    asphyxea
    i've been around this world and now everything's a bore
    i don't know that much, but i know about keeping score
    When the lightning strikes, Asphyxea launches backward against the push of the water. Her heart races with a force she doesn't understand: fear, excitement, and anger all mingling to create a tsunami of blood in her chest and a ringing tornado in her ears. The ocean tugs and beckons around her, calling her into the tide, a force almost distracting enough to pull her gaze from the singed earth where the lightning struck.

    But Phyx is transfixed, amazed, enraptured. Was she simply lucky or was this the kindness of a watching magician? It doesn't strike her that the one manipulating the skies is a Nerinian, and a mischievous one at that.

    "Oops?" the little dragon calls back, teal eyes hopping from shadow to shadow to find the voice she barely caught above the waves. "Don't tell me that was an accident," she adds with an eager, if taunting, smile. The water splashes around her legs as she rushes toward the sand, finally catching Popinjay in an intense stare.

    "What're you hiding behind that smile?" Phyx asks as she presses closers, settling a few feet away from Poppy. Her talons dig restlessly into the malleable sand. "More lightning?" she murmurs, deciding she likes the woman's grin and her presumed snark. Her eyes float from Poppy's face to her wings then to her legs, finally meandering confidently back to the mare's eyes.

    She's not particularly intimidating, but Phyx hopes she's surprised.
    and if there's one thing i know for sure,
    it'd be a long cold day in hell when i take you back


    @[Popinjay]
    Reply
    #4

    She was not quite what you would call refined

    The lightning burns away as fast as it appears, and on the beach it leaves little trace except for the point of its strike where a scorch mark hides treasure beneath the sand, branched and burning hot, turning to glass in the darkness. Above, in the gleaming light of day, where sunlight dances and makes the ocean ripples gleam, Popinjay pauses, her head tilted to one side in a bird-like manner as the sea-scrolled young mare startles back until hungry waves lap at her heels, as she lunges forward again and catches those dancing dark eyes in a challenge.  Nothing about the little bay's grin changes, her left ear flickers back and forth, brushing the question away as insignificant.

    "There's nothing behind my teeth but my tongue, Lizard-Breath, but I can smell perfectly well what you've got behind yours." Her expression turns puckish as she goads the other mare, neck arching beneath the thick fall of curling mane, shading the broad star that shines bright as laughter across her brow. She can smell the smoke-smell of dragon's breath, a hot smell like red rock baked hard and brittle under the Pangean sun, a smell like lava running red as blood under its own black skin, and the faded scars across her flank burn in response to the thought. They remind her that she is no more fire-proof than, she suspects, the antlered girl is lightning-proof, so approaching is a reckless thing to do, but Popinjay has always been cavalier.

    The little bay sidles up close - and if it weren't for her antlers, the sulfur stranger would not tower over her at all, they are very close in height, which is to say, neither is very tall at all. As the fire-breather cannot mask smoke, Poppy does not hide her lightning but lets it hum and snap as it pleases across her skin. If the two mares are close enough, small strings of electricity might find their way loose of her, arcing across the space between them. There is, in Asphyxea, enough of a mirror to her brashness that Poppy does not trouble herself with remembering to tame the sparks. The idea of trapping them behind white teeth is surprisingly unsavory - lightning is a swift, feral, thing that wants to taste the sky, and she prefers to let it run wild.

    "I could vomit lightning - if I wanted - but I'm not a cat with a hairball." the ebony strands of her tail flick as though to emphasize her point, "Besides, it's rarely necessary; lightning seeds are everywhere."

    Poppy doesn't understand the science of what her magic does, she only knows that when she applies her will to it, it creates what she wants - usually. She only knows that when she brushes the earth or the clouds with her magic just so there's a sudden smell of chlorine gas that flavors the air and (although it isn't strictly necessary, she enjoys the theatrics of it,) when she strikes her stone-grey forehoof into the dirt or, as now, boldly reaches up to touch her nose to the tines of the Pangean's antlers, bolts or balls of electricity spark suddenly to life. The blinding ball hovers for a moment above the palomino's head, desperate to ground, but Poppy grins and calls it away, dancing erratically through the air until it presses against her flesh and branches out like bright veins to be swallowed again by the sandy soil.


    "Is your fire everywhere, too, or is it only in your belly?"
    Image by Breyos


    @[asphyxea] I'M SO SORRY. I've been waiting for the chance to call a dragon lizard breath for a real life year lmfao
    Reply
    #5
    asphyxea
    i've been around this world and now everything's a bore
    i don't know that much, but i know about keeping score
    In another world, one of two-dimensional characters and emotions expressed with the push of a button, Asphyxea would stop dead in her tracks. She'd stare mouth agape, tongue-lolling, two pulsing hearts where her eyes should be. Who was this creature that spoke to her as if fire didn't expel from her mouth at will? Typically, Phyx is an irate being with little patience but when her madness is matched by another's - why, she is daunted, aghast, perhaps in the throws of infatuation.

    "Lizard-breath?" Phyx parrots with a confused cock of her head. She watches Poppy with pale, reptilian eyes, wondering if this stranger is truly intimate enough with dragons to call their breath exactly as it is. She is bemused, not quite agitated; but the fog is quickly cleared by the clarity she needs to fully observe the lightning crackling along Poppy's skin. The white light is hypnotic, powerful, enchanting in a way Phyx has never quite experience. Growing up with dragons and monsters in Beqanna's favorite wasteland, isn't often that the dragonness is impressed by another power.

    But this? Lightning that strikes at will? A daring voice? Asphyxea is amazed. She wants to run her lips over the electricity even if it leaves her reelings.

    Phyx holds as still as statue when the mare reaches up to touch her antlers; and she allows her to, even dipping them a bit to offer more range. She can only imagine what the sparkling jade must look like against Poppy's lips, but what she sees is beautiful and perhaps, dangerous. Even when electricity balls with a hiss above her head, Asphyxea doesn't shy. She shivers with anticipation, wondering if the stranger will attempt to strike her and if so - will she allow it? She wonders what it would be like to take a hit without swinging back but -

    The magic fizzles away and with a striking sense of disappointment, Phyx releases a breath she didn't know she was holding.

    "No," she answers bluntly, fighting off the grimy, green teeth of envy. "But if you were to let me burn you, I could heal you with it, too," is a quick, sniping addition she follows with a playful blow of flames. She lifts her head back and arches her neck, glimmering antlers glowing silver beneath the moonlight.

    "I'm Asphyxea. Who are you?"
    and if there's one thing i know for sure,
    it'd be a long cold day in hell when i take you back


    @[Popinjay] hahahahahahahahahaha i couldnt get those dumb anime heart eyes out of my head
    Reply
    #6

    She was not quite what you would call refined

    Let me burn you and I could heal you. Poppy scoffs playfully. @[asphyxea] has had a hundred chances to burn her if she was going to do it, and the little bay withdraws her muzzle slowly from its place near those bright antlers as though unconcerned at the vulnerability of it. She knows enough about dragons to be spurred on by the danger, and little enough of fear to worry about her safety, but she knows jealousy and envy, has felt them claw her own heart, so she recognizes them when they flicker green across gold features.

    "I would appreciate it if you did, after - I couldn't heal myself." An olive branch, and admission, extended while the palomino's flames turn the air bright around them. There is nothing protecting her from the fire but sheer gall. The old burn scars flare and sting as if to remind her she is not fire-proof - it's only her imagination that they seem to be on fire, that she can feel the burning crawl of lava dripping down her skin. No, she is not completely unfamiliar with the intensity of the heat hiding away in Asphyxea's throat. Poppy lifts the scarred leg to stretch it out behind her and laughs brightly. "Well. I guess I could. But not very quickly."

    "Popinjay, Asphyxea. You can call me Poppy." She shakes the black curls out of her eyes, steps away from the golden dragon so that it is easier to see her completely, "You must have been at the raid on Nerine. It didn't work, you know, the Northerners still sleeping, maybe I should take you back with me so we can try again."

    Image by Breyos
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