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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]  The wolf's just a puppy - Greta
    #1
    Cyneric
    the Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept

    His time in Tephra had been enjoyable, but the magic was draining him physically and mentally - while he liked the girl who enjoyed the company of a pack, part of him knew it was her who sapped him, even if she didn't mean to. No, he left one day when she was out and about with others, and when he finally reached the river for a refreshing drink, he slept for hours and hours.

    Dawn broke with a crisp, a late winter-effect in spring, he supposed. His nose picks up several prey-like scents, a habit he has never separated from his wolf shape. Now, the bay wanders towards the river's edge, finding a low river bank to drink some of the cool water. Looking up, he noticed the mountain peaks in the distance, and wonders for a moment if it's melting glacier water he's drinking.

    With a shake of his crest, he bows back to the water again, dismissing the thought. His galaxy-marked foreleg moves forward, bringing him deeper into the river, and his dark tail brushes away most of the flies that are coming back to life after the cool night. Perhaps, he thinks, he should investigate and find a new pack to run with, but in the moment he isn't bothered to find one immediately. The summer is coming first, after all; plenty of grass and prey alike. The future may be open, but it sure is looking bright.


    @[greta]
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    #2
    GRETA
    I once held your soldier heart between my war teeth; shook it like a dog with a bone until it knew the fear of good love.
    " Do you remember? "
    Summer had come - her first in Beqanna. Her life in Eight’s dark dome was void of season - she simply lived in whatever he saw fit. And quite surely, he was never one for bright and beaming sun. But this? This was a sight to behold - waking up to feel the chill of spring fading to a warmer sun. She woke with what felt like kisses on her skin, hot specks on her bay coat (of course, it was just the dappled sunlight through the shade of the trees).

    She had spent her night by the river - not quite sure where else to go. She had Pangea, yes, but that was only because Straia was there- and Straia was the only thing she ‘knew’ in Beqanna (of course, perhaps that was all just her father’s doing). She had little else to do in life - save for waiting for Straia’s call after the din of the battles. And so she meandered. She explored the vastness of the land, something she could never do in the dark dome of Eight’s maliciousness.

    She shakes the sleep from her eyes and rises slowly - still ever cautious in this unknown world. The new warmth of the night had made her thirsty, and she slowly picks her way to the river that she had followed from Pangea. Largely, her time back on solid ground has been in solitude - she is timid to approach others, never knowing how they will discover (or abuse) her curse. But on this morning, she has no choice. Across the river, there is someone else - perhaps someone who has also woken up to the sun kissing his back.
    She watches quietly as he submerges more of himself into the river, seemingly unafraid of what may be lurking underneath.
    She stops, moves her head down to drink her fill - her eyes always keenly upon him. “You’re up early.” Living in a bubble and manipulated for the majority of her life has not left her with the greatest of conversational pieces.




    @[Cyneric]
    Use of minor power playing is allowed  in regards to commanding her obedience. 
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    #3
    Cyneric
    the Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept

    There’s a female nearby, and she reeks of hesitation. And sleepiness, definitely. Had he been hunting she would make ideal prey, but the shifter never had developed a taste for larger grazers - especially not horses. As a lone wolf he could never imagine to take one down, and in a group he preferred to hunt away from those he thought of as kin.

    Yet despite her drowsiness and her cautiousness, she emerges. Cyneric mentally thanks her for that: it was high time he interacted with his other species, the horse. He’s spent too long as a wolf, because it had always been easier for him. He’d always be able to roam, to be accepted for who he was with a pack, and to feel secure. Herd or pack animal, he always longed just for that - companionship.

    Her conversation starter might just be as rusty as he is - he’d start to wave his tail but remembers just in time that wagging it won’t tell her anything. Instead, he moves his head from the water and grins at her. ”Or maybe we’re up late?” he questions. Blue eyes dance over her body curiously, trying to gauge her body language. He notices a touch of pink, which distincts her from a regular bay, just as his one nebula sock is different. He decides that he likes that about her - similar and yet strange.


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