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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’m frozen in motion; Rosey
    #1
    Taiga’s woods are slow to burn and slow to recover, and every time I move through this part of the forest, I’m glad my family has been safe from it. That’s not strictly true - not mentally, no, but physically so, and that’s a least something. Rosey and Oren have been born after the burning and thankfully Lilli tried not to burden them with her lingering doubts about me. It’s occurred to me how often she doesn’t join in when I visit, and though I tell myself it’s because I bring a welcome break from managing and raising two children, deep down I think I know differently. That of course doesn’t hold me back from pulling a small prank on her every now or then, or from taking Oren out to see a waterfall or watching over Rosey when she gets lost in thought - and starts to wander around in a wholly different way than her brother.

    I scurry through the night like a heavy-scaled squirrel, the forest’s undergrowth giving way to my ice-covered legs when I break through. It’s the only thing that gives away my passing, because I’ve shrouded myself with darkness. That’s the downside of being king instead of just a territory leader - before, I could do as I pleased in Taiga and Nerine, now, wherever I go I set some sort of example. It’s comparable to being a parent, but then maybe I’m the parent of all Northlings, and the weird uncle to the rest of Beqanna’s inhabitants.

    Sometimes I just want to visit the one, you know?

    The dark shadow that announces me (for those who know what to look for) moves forward, until I reach the girl I’m looking for. No doubt her twin has distracted their mother again, asking for the millionth time for one of her stories. It keeps them occupied late into the night, but sometimes they collapse so tiredly that the dark and silver girl gets more or less forgotten.

    Those are the times when I watch out for her. Mostly she sleeps through it though, but perhaps tonight I’m lucky enough to talk with her. Because sometimes, even a king needs a break, and return to normalcy.
    my head tells me to stop - but my heart goes


    @[Roselin] some messy starter, hope it works
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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    #2
    If Lilliana had any doubts about Leilan, she never revealed any in the presence of their twins. Their mother was as friendly and cordial with Leilan as she was with any other resident of Taiga or the North and Roselin never thought anything of the relationship her parents did (or did not) have.

    They were just her parents; her mother and father as just Oren and Nash and Yan were her brothers.

    Their bedtime routine is more or less the same as it is every night. Lilliana wove tales about fantastical things. She would smile and tell them about the places her family had once called home: an ancient valley where the breezes were so warm and welcoming that winter could never touch.

    (Roselin wasn't sure what she thought of that. She didn't mind the cold. There was a part of her that enjoyed it. She never shivered when winter came blowing through the North.) She told them stories about noble kings, regal queens, gallant knights, and a place so bright and golden that even Evil couldn't tarnish. For Oren, there were stories about wars and dragons and quests. For Roselin, Lilliana conjured every borrowed memory she had of Carwen, an ancestor that Rosey closely resembled with her dark coloring and piercing blue eyes.

    There were many nights that the twins fell asleep this way: with Lilliana telling her stories and @[Leilan] and his shadows keeping watch over them during the deep, dark hours.

    But every so often, Rosey broke habit and a blue eye would open to spy her father. The other eye would follow and soon the silver-black filly would rise quietly to greet her sire while Lilliana would bed down with their roan son. His shadows are a welcome banner to the little girl and she smiles as she comes closer to Leilan. "Papa," she murmurs softly with a voice that was still drowsy with sleep. "You're late," she chides him, trying to use the same voice Mama did when Oren ran too fast or both twins roamed too far. But she fails and the little voice that floats across the darkness is affectionate instead of cross. Rosey presses her slender head into her father's broad chest and asks, "where have you been?"

    ROSELIN
    html by castlegraphics; art by Calcifer
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    #3
    It's a funny thing about winter - and how much Lilliana seems to hate and still adore or at least, endure it. In the case of myself, well - I suppose in retrospect I had her quite warm up to the idea of winter, though I wouldn't exactly dare to say it in her face. Or in front of the kids. Well maybe one day, when they are older, I can make such remarks.

    In fact, she might have taken it to heart so much, that sometimes when I look in her eyes I can feel cold. Not, of course, the physical kind - like Rosey and Oren, I haven't felt physically cold for years now, and I don't expect it to change any time soon. About that, a little idea has formed in my mind, but tonight is not the time to explore fairy magic. Tonight is the time to explore what ridiculous stories Lilli has woven into Rosey's mind.

    They're asleep by the time I get there, but the little girl isn't a deep sleeper - or at least she isn't when she knows to expect me every other night. I try to refrain from coming every day, so that she actually sleeps at least some nights. Though I have a feeling she has taken on the habit of napping during the daytime to catch up; at least, that's when Oren gets frustrated about not having a playmate.

    She sounds drowsy now, when she tries to chastise me for being late. "A dragon is never late. He arrives exactly when he means to." I tease her, a stolen quote from I don't know how long ago. Maybe my mother's stories. Ah, she would have loved this little girl so much. Not that she didn't love all children, but I feel like she would get along with Rosey so well. Perhaps one day she'll return.

    I reach down for her mane, the shadows dropped or expanded around her as well (honestly I don't really know how that works and I don't care, as long as she can see me). "Chasing the nightmares out," I tell her. It's my standard answer and maybe she's getting too old to accept it as an answer, but really, what can one do? It's partly the truth, for I always check the perimeter of this particular sleeping spot, and am especially keen on keeping my own worries from reaching the kids. There'll be enough worry for them when they grow older, and they certainly don't need me to carry my own heavy crown-thoughts along every time we meet.

    "Have you succeeded in keeping your brothers out of trouble today?" I ask it as a way of checking in with her, of course, but the little ritual is all that I have sometimes. Roselin is all I need to keep away the rest of the world, a thing that even her mother and the mare before her only ever succeeded in temporarily.
    my head tells me to stop - but my heart goes


    @[Roselin] sorry this took forever
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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    #4
    She is almost too busy burying her dark face into the broadness of his muscled chest when he says that a dragon is never late. An ear flicks to the side and Rosey pushes her nose against the ice scales that line her father's skin. The little filly smiles and then snorts softly, blowing out a breathe of frost she knows her sire most likely won't feel.

    But still, Roselin likes to remind her father that she thinks he should have been here hours ago.

    The filly is too close and too unpracticed her magic to be skilled with it and there are bits of ice that cling to the whiskers near her nose. It makes the girl sneeze abrubtly and she jerks her head up in an attempt to shake away the still-frozen pieces that remain. Another shake removes the last of the offending parts and Roselin takes a step back, peering up to Leilan with a rueful smile. "Sorry Da," she murmurs and then illuminates her apology with her markings so that her sire might see it.

    Roselin comes closer again and leans into Leilan's embrace, allowing the shadows that he carries to wrap her up as well. The tall stallion is reaching down for the tufts of her pale mane and she returns the gesture by tenderly touching the tattoos that swirl against his skin. "Can you make these glow?" she asks breathlessly, giving away that this is a game she has played with her father many times before. "Not too bright," Rosey warns, "or it might wake up Oren or Reave." Her nose crinkles at the thought, "or both."

    If both her brothers were awake, Roselin would lose this alone time with @[Leilan]. And as happy as she is to share, she likes these stolen moments with him; his girl, she has heard him call her. Her Da.

    "Or you would make Leonidas jealous," she whispers. Her knowledge of the bonded star is limited - especially when there are brothers and nieces and nephews to distract her - but she knows that the glowing ball of light that follows her mother some nights does not take kindly to those who could compete with his shine.

    "I tried," Roselin shares. "Oren asks a lot of questions though. And I try to help Reave but he never stays still for very long," and then sighing against Leilan's scales, she explains: "And Mama said Yanhua was already in trouble."

    ROSELIN
    html by castlegraphics; art by Calcifer
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    #5
    Rosey snorts and I can’t help but hide a grin, knowing that my eyes will betray me nonetheless. Even if they didn’t change to a suspiciously green color now, which I bet they have, there’s still that spark in them that often announces amusement (in my case, mischief of a sort) which I only vaguely attempt to his by helping her brush off some of the ice. ”One day you’re going to be able to make ice sculptures with that,” I tell her as a form of reassurance. If she’s resourceful enough she might make her sculptures all by herself, if not there’s always encasing a pretty object in ice for preservation.

    The markings on my legs glow with hers, in the reverse-way that black would glow. It eats away some of her own white light, and I like to think it’s some sort of exchange sometimes. ”We wouldn’t want that,” I murmur in agreement. I know exactly why she said it, and it makes me perhaps more vain than I should be, but hey I just like that she likes me so much. ”Leonidas should be very jealous. Luckily he can’t see us glimmer in the sunlight.” I chuckle a little, bumping my nose against a patch of scales on her neck. She might look black in the dark, I know what the northern lights and the sun can do to ice like ours. Leonidas will never earn more love from Lilli with his shine than Rosey does, I’m sure. Or, well pretty sure. Roselin has a much better personality than the star in that matter, I suppose, and for that alone she should be appreciated more.

    When I take the sidestep to ask about her brothers though, she mentions that Yan already is in trouble, and this is new to me. ”Is he now?” Perhaps I should have tried to visit after the alliance challenge, and most certainly after the encounter in Hyaline. I hadn’t, for a reason similar to mistakes I made so long ago - I should have learned from them, but no. ”I’ll have a look out for him then. Tomorrow.” Not tonight - tonight is for Roselin, after all. One at a time.
    my head tells me to stop - but my heart goes


    @[Roselin]
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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    #6
    She loves it when he looks at her like that and Roselin, always hoping to please her father, mimics him. The silver-black filly had been smiling moments before but it suddenly stills and stifles into a rather somber expression - one that looks far too serious on the face of one so young.

    It's only when she lifts her silver-blue eyes to his that the spark is there; a contradiction to the frost that freezes in her veins, pumping within the blood they both share. Rose lifts her head slightly and fights her smile, trying so hard to keep it hidden. But then her sire is reaching for her, brushing away the frost that christens her few small whiskers and Roselin does smile then. "I hope so," she admits softly to Leilan. It's one of her fears - something she has shared with Oren before - that she won't quite find her place within this family of giants.

    Both her parents seem so impossibly large sometimes. Leilan, Freyr of the North, and her mother Lilliana, as the leader of Taiga, leaves little room for Roselin to find her own light. They seem as colossal as the magnificent trees that shadow all around them.

    "Can you do that?" she asks her father. It's always been a curiosity to her about what her father does on the Isle. How does he bide all his time? Is he the reason that their glaciers that float in the sea around his kingdom? Is he reason that the frost and the winter follows? The ideas make her smile wider and Roselin becomes enraptured with the idea that they could be reason for such wonderful changes in the world.

    "No," she tells him, glad that he agrees with her. The ice child doesn't really mind that she has to share her time with her siblings.  (Leilan has never acted differently in her presence towards Reave than he does Oren or Nashua or Yanhua); but she is glad that this time is theirs. That even if he is a king and a Dragon, he still finds time for his youngest daughter in Taiga.

    The rest of their conversation is easy to explain. "He gets jealous all the time," Roselin huffs. The few times that the star has come within her presence, he dims and shines and does whatever he can to command the attention away from her. "Mama says he is young like Reave so we have to be patient with him," she says, giving the same explanation that her chestnut mother had offered.

    But that all becomes forgotten with the brush of @[Leilan]'s touch and Roselin melts.

    "Something about Amarine and Borderline," the child says. "Mama says that hearts can be tricky things." Roselin moves forward to embrace her father again, her dark coat melding into his mahogany one, and yawns. "Does that mean you'll stay the night?"




    ROSELIN
    html by castlegraphics; art by Calcifer
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    #7
    There's so much she doesn't know, I think sometimes when she adores me like that - so much history she shouldn't be privy of as a child, so that she remains the pure and good, innocent girl that she is now. In many ways, the things we don't tell our children are for their own protection, without them knowing about it. It's for the best though - a child is something not to be spoiled.

    Her question makes me chuckle. "I've dabbled in it from time to time. Most structures I've made are functional, though. I'm sure you are much more creative." And more privy to make it actually look good. When it was needed, I've never bothered with how anything looked, but maybe I should have - but I don't think I have that much of an artistic eye. Or just not the patience. I'm pretty sure our daughter does, however. Don't know where she got it, but she has it.

    The topic of Leonidas - I honestly still don't understand the creature, not at all - makes her huff in the same way I do internally most of the time (or just when I'm alone on the Isle and accidentally think of him; I try not to). I chuckle a bit like that, shaking my head at the explanation. "Patience is good, but even young babies have to learn how to deal with the real world eventually," I tell her and at that, she might already know I'm not planning on taking any shine away again the next time I happen upon the star. "Not everybody is nice, and not everybody thinks the same way. Best to let him practise in a safe environment." I wink at her. I don't know if she has the courage to step up to this competitive star, but I know that when Lilli is present neither of them will get hurt for it.

    Nevertheless, Rosey must sleep too. I'm reminded of that when she comes in for another hug and yawns. "That they are, little glacier. That they are." I agree, musing over her head in response. I smile down upon the little girl when she asks if I'll stay, so I nod. "Of course. You just tend to not notice, because you're such a sleepyhead." I poke her a little, which inherently ends in a little bit of a push towards her usual sleeping spot. That I'm usually too restless to sleep through a whole night doesn't mean she doesn't need it, after all. The difference between a full-grown body with lots of things to do, and that of a child who should have no worries in the world, I presume.
    there’s an ocean in between your heart and me


    @[Roselin]
    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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    #8
    The hours grow late and then young again. Roselin has long lost track of them. Her mother and Leonidas had left some time ago. It's alright, though. What matters to her is that her father, Leilan, is here. Daybreak will come and then he will leave, doing whatever it is that a King does.

    "Can I make you a place to rest?" she playfully murmurs when he says his shapes have been more functional. So far, all her ice has manifested as small snowflakes or small sheets of frost on the ground. The silver-black filly has come to love the idea of creating a garden for Taiga; that desire doesn't coincide well with her skill but it has been teaching Roselin restraint while she uses it.

    She yawns again and starts to move alongside her father's abdomen, tucking herself gently against his scaled side. Roselin tries to patient. She tries very hard when Oren asks one question and then another. When they start one game and then he is ready for the next one. Reave very rarely stays still and she tries to be patient when he wants to leave the little grove where Lilliana often asks them to stay. Her older brothers - Nashua and Yanhua - might have more patience but Rosey assumes that comes from 'dealing with the real world', as her sire had said.

    It'd be nice to have a sister, she thinks.

    "You must have a lot of patience, Papa." She whispers and then burrows her face against him. 

    ROSELIN
    html by castlegraphics; art by Calcifer


    @[Leilan] <3
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