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    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]  Sinking soul, there you are - TARGARYEN
    #1

    The light that meets the dark

    This world had always been a dangerous place, long before the Eclipse. Cheri was a sunlight-born foal, able to recall and remember happier times than these, but even those recollections were filled with subtle warnings from her parents. Evil lived, and it lurked somewhere out of her reach. When she’d been just a baby, Cheri remembered conjurations of false monsters and fairytales, stories meant to keep her tucked close under the watchful eyes of her caregivers, but the older she grew the more wisdom and reality lent itself to her. She knew, young as she was, that there was both truth and falsehood in the ideas of living demons.

    Sometimes, the worst lived within. Most times, it was found in the world around them.
    There was good and bad and everything in between, and amidst all the new thoughts swirling in her head there was Targaryen.

    He was good; Cheri felt certain of it. Good enough to find her in Taiga and good enough not to have hurt her when they first met, during a time of vulnerability and uncertainty for her. She’d only been a foal! (Though she’s not much more than that now.) Young, green, full of wonder… just a child who was destined to experience something life changing. A little filly who somehow came across him on the riverbanks, saved his life, and in turn found her own life thusly saved. Cheri was still too young to comprehend the gravity of a thing like inescapable fate, but she wasn’t too young to see a good thing when she had it.

    As thanks for everything he’d done, Cheri’s father had offered him a lifetime’s worth of access to the redwoods. No matter where the color-changing stallion went, now he’d always have a home in Taiga. That was, of course, as long as Cheri’s family remained.

    There wasn’t much doubt in Cheri’s mind over the matter when she went off to meet up with the pegasus later, after the chaos had died and everyone had calmed down, and about a day or so after she’d taken ample time to heal and rest. To her, it seemed natural that Yanhua would just remain and exist here forever, so it also made sense that Targaryen would never have to worry about whether he was welcome here or not. Perhaps her father had been a little too inquisitive over the nature of Targaryen’s sudden arrival, but Cheri laughed to think of her father being any less proper than decorum demanded of him.

    That meant she was free to spend her time with Targaryen as she wished, and Cheri honestly wished to spend all of her current time with Targaryen.

    “There you are!” She laughed prettily, slipping from the dark and into the sphere of his presence from between the redwood roots. Her limbs had grown and given Cheri a bit of awkwardness, but the yearling mare managed to navigate the way towards her expected companion without stumbling or falling flat on her nose. “Ready for the grand tour?” She asked him, slowing to halt at his side.

    In the dark, Cheri reasoned that his coloring wasn’t done justice. She remembered how Targaryen had looked that night on the River’s shore, his skin painted with clouds and swirling colors muted by the night. This dark - the dark of an Eclipse - colored him differently, but not quite as beautifully as she recalled. She smiled; perhaps the emotion was lost to the shadows, and then Cheri shivered as the wet summer fog clung to her black withers. A mystery, She thought of him, pawing absently, I’m glad he stayed.


    @[Targaryen]
    Reply
    #2
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    When they had first met, Cheri’s father had appeared from the shadows unexpectedly. It hadn’t been the best timing; even though Targaryen was a boy (and he is on the cusp of manhood now, even though he barely gives thought to puberty and considers himself still a child), he had understood that standing flank-to-flank with your wing draped over someone’s daughter wasn’t the best introduction. Although he couldn’t explain why, he had felt almost shameful at the situation, and it had taken him a few days to recover.

    Seeing Cheri’s father in Taiga had reignited that embarrassment, but Targaryen had forced himself to muster every little piece of maturity from within so he wouldn’t squirm under the stallion’s stern blue eyes. It had been one of the hardest things he’d done, but the boy had managed to keep his own brown gaze on Yanhua’s until he received permission to stay in Taiga.

    Targaryen wanders with a relaxed step now, comfortable under the watchful eyes of the redwoods. Their gazes are easier to bear, even feeling familiar. His mother is one of them — a great, glowing, rough tree which remains rooted in a place deep within the Forest — and the shifting colors of his body suggests that he is distantly related to them.

    When Cheri’s voice laughs from the shadows, the boy feels his pulse quicken. “Cheri!” He is pleased to see the glowing filly seems fine after the tousle with the monster, and he shuffles his wings at the prickling feeling that accompanies thinking about the creature. Targaryen leans to bump into her shoulder as she stops beside him. This close, he can see the stones that rise above her pale eyes. He thinks they are beautiful; twin mountains surrounded by a black sea that is cut through with the colorful strands of her forelock like elegant, winding islands.

    There is an entire world in the details of her face, Targaryen realizes.

    Cheri’s smile reminds him of her question, and his soft brown eyes move down to catch her eyes. “Absolutely! I was hoping to find you, actually. I think I need an educated guide like you to make sure I don’t get lost in these woods.” If it weren’t for her, Targaryen thinks he would probably wander in the redwoods for days; the combination of tall ancient trees, thick fog that clings to his skin, and the endless shadows would turn any newcomer into a lost soul.
    credit to fangs of bearbones.


    @[Cheri]
    Reply
    #3

    The light that meets the dark

    Cheri liked the way Targaryen said her name. She’d become so used to her family and the way they pronounced it, that the sudden arrival of a friend (a friend who’d grafted himself onto their little Taigan family tree, who was starting to feel more like a cousin or older brother) made the word sound fresh and fun again. She bumped his shoulder with her own, and for a moment the tension of another disturbing night’s sleep eased out of Cheri’s mind.

    Being here with Targaryen was a great distraction. His presence kept the white-spotted filly from fixating on night terrors by fixating on him instead. Since the monster’s attack Cheri hadn’t been sleeping well, and it was easy to pretend that the encounter was nothing when she was awake. She only had a few remaining scars from the tussle, and in a few weeks time they might disappear as well. But night after night, every time Cheri’s eyelids felt heavy, she also felt afraid, knowing what would come as soon as she disconnected.

    Lately, she was inseparable from her mother at night.

    Targaryen smelled wonderful, though. His presence had the power to remind Cheri of hope and light in the darkness, and that here in Taiga she was surrounded by overprotective siblings at least. She smiled, blinking away sad thoughts as Targaryen’s enthusiasm for the dark day ahead swept Cheri up in a wave of contentment. She could focus on him and the here-and-now, surf its electric feel and just try to enjoy life for a little while. That would be easy.

    “In brighter times, I’d be the first to advocate getting hopelessly lost.” The winged mare countered brightly. He assumed she’d make a good guide, but Cheri was of a firm belief that undiscovered, hidden locations were only found by venturing into the unknown. Whatever was undiscovered out there… That's what fascinated her. She might be kind, (hopelessly good) but boundaries had never been her ‘thing’. Those belonged to her father.

    “These days though.” Cheri sucked in a breath. Her head moved in the dark; she lifted her cheek and glanced up, trying to meet Targaryen’s eye before he looked away. “Familiar places would bring me a lot of peace.” She sighed happily.

    The Burnt Grove, The Garden, the open but small meadow with a quiet pond fed into the center. On a true night, one with stars and clear of mauve-colored clouds, it would grow calm and reflect the heavens. Now it only reflected the endless dark. Cheri could picture them all in a second, but she wondered which would enchant Targaryen the most and which (out of all the familiar places she loved in this forest) wouldn’t be so hard to enjoy with the end of the world so present.

    This Eclipse, these monsters. Sometimes Cheri felt like the worst could be true.

    “You choose.” The glowing horse challenged her friend with a smile. “We can stray out into the open, or stick to the shade.”


    @[Targaryen]
    Reply
    #4
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    Targaryen hasn’t experienced fear quite like what he feels in this particular darkness. Even when he had been running from the predator in the Forest, even when he got himself stuck and knew his mother wouldn’t help him, even when Yanhua had stared into his eyes with such a serious look Targaryen thought he might cry — none of these experiences ignite the same level of apprehension that rests in his belly with the darkness. It hadn’t spooked him before he came to Taiga. Somehow he hadn’t come across a monster until he arrived in the redwoods, and he thinks it is the knowledge that things are lurking that makes him nervous.

    But with Cheri, he feels safe. They have traded heroism between them, saved each other’s lives, knit one another together by showing up in a time of need. Targaryen knows that she will fight for him if he needs it, and it goes without saying that he would do the same. He can relax in her warm presence, and the shadows do not feel as menacing with her dark body next to his. Even as she admits to an adventurous streak (he should have known better than assuming she preferred staying on well-known routes; after all, she had found him in the middle of the night after straying from her father), he feels her contentment saturate him.

    Targaryen’s brown eye does catch her green one, and his smile is radiant in Cheri’s luminescence. Though he had admired her face a moment before, he can see even more details from this close. He can see the lines of exhaustion drawn across the ink of her face, the concave shapes below her eyes that insomnia presses there, the haunted expression that lingers just behind the brilliant green of her eyes. Targaryen can’t imagine she has been sleeping well; he has been woken by nightmares of the monster plenty of times. The hidden signs of fatigue make him want to pull her close and settle them in a soft bed of clover where they can dream together until the sun finally comes back.

    But Cheri has already suggested a tour of Taiga, he has already agreed, and the happiness that dances in her eyes tells him that she would prefer a distraction.

    So Targaryen lets his smile get wider, and he bumps her inky shoulder again, this time a little harder. Her skin is warm and soft against his, and his shoulder tingles wherever they have touched. Instead of focusing on the sensation, the winged boy contemplates his choices. He has been sticking to the forests lately, hoping the undergrowth and wide-trunked redwoods will dissuade anything from attacking him while his back is turned. He hasn’t been brave enough to venture into the open by himself, although he knows the emptiness would have given him more room to run… Or more room for multiple monsters to attack him at once.

    But Cheri’s presence is an encouragement, a warrior cry that he can sneak into the open unharmed. So he lifts his chin and peers into the darkness with confidence he doesn’t have yet but hopes he will be able to achieve one day. “Show me your favorite places in the open, Cheri. I want to see the things you love.”
    credit to fangs of bearbones.


    @[Cheri]
    Reply
    #5

    The light that meets the dark

    Stumbling aside, Cheri rolled her eyes. What had Targaryen been eating lately? Rocks? Her best friend felt bulkier than usual, which was saying something because Targaryen had always looked big to Cheri. He might be ahead of her in age, but she never paused to consider it until they had moments like these, where Cheri realized that before too long Targaryen would be a proper stallion. Fully grown and flying everywhere, she was sure of it. Too grown to stay down here with fillies in Taiga.

    She perked up as best she could though, happy to have a willing accomplice for a little longer. At least while he was here, Targaryen was interested in spending time with her. That’s all Cheri honestly cared about.

    “O-K then.” She sang playfully, tossing her head. The Open Meadow it was. “We’re headed toward the Heart of Taiga.”

    In the midst of the ancient redwoods there was a break in the trees, where the hills rose like solid waves of land and broke open to reveal the sky above. Nestled in the valley of that place was Cheri’s favorite spot. She took off at a brisk walk, popping her heels out to strike haphazardly at the elder horse for fun. Something about the feverish excitement of their plans wriggled its way through her skin, and Cheri felt a rare blossom of elation that could only be expressed with a kittenish attack.

    “What about you, Yenny?” She asked, tossing her finely-shaped head aside to catch her friend’s attention. Nothing like good conversation to help make a long trip shorter, she reasoned. Absently, she wondered what he’d think of the nickname. Lately Cheri had been trying to pin him down with one, since Targaryen was a mouthful. A lovely mouthful, but still…

    “Are there any places outside of Taiga that you consider favorites?” She pondered aloud, grinning in the dark.


    @[Targaryen]
    Reply
    #6
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    With a mother who preferred a quiet forest over the soft face of her child, Targaryen had found independence too quickly. He had grown up in the name of survival, and he had painted his face in colors of faux-bravery so he could continue to find his way in the world. Yet surviving had stripped him of the softer things in life; he had lost the comfort of a mother’s touch, and the warmth of a sibling’s sleeping body, and the joy of playing with friends.

    “The Heart of Taiga. That sounds mysterious.” He narrowly dodges Cheri’s playful attack, overcompensating and losing his balance. Flaring out his wings is the only thing that saves Targaryen from toppling over sideways, and he prays that Cheri didn’t see his clumsiness to whatever gods might be listening. When they had first met, the gash in his leg had awakened something within Cheri, and unbeknownst to either of them, Cheri has sparked something inside Targaryen.

    Her playfulness overcomes the embarrassment souring in his stomach. Targaryen jumps forward, making up the distance between them, and he aims a nip at her ears as he comes along her side. The boy’s mouth pulls into a smile at Cheri’s nickname. He knows his name is long, but he hadn’t expected anyone to give him a shorter version. It is yet another thing that binds them together.

    Favorite places? The smile quickly falls from his face at the idea that he might have a favorite place to spend his time. Home has always felt like a daydream. A place that makes him feel comfortable and warm has felt more like a myth than reality. Targaryen has places he knows — the best patch of grazing in the Meadow, the river-bend where he learned to fly, the secluded corner of the forest where his mother is — but he can hardly consider them favorites.

    Targaryen’s soft eyes shift away from Cheri’s face. His chest tightens at the thought of ruining Cheri’s excitement with his depressing life. The truth of the matter is that his favorite place is really just one, and it is where they had first met. But can he say that yet? He isn’t sure if he will scare her away with his honesty. She has made an impression on him beyond words, and Targaryen is scared that admitting it aloud will undo the knots of their friendship.

    He settles for a half-truth. “I’ve always enjoyed the River. I learned to fly there, and the water feels good in the summer.” Targaryen returns his gaze to her dark face, and he is about to ask about the places she has been to outside Taiga when a stick manages to place itself right in his path. Cheri’s face tilts, all he sees are shadows, and there’s a thump as he lands solidly on his left side.
    credit to fangs of bearbones.



    @[Cheri]
    Reply
    #7

    The light that meets the dark

    Cheri and her family had lived in a much different world for months now, waking up and falling asleep with the dark, and as a consequence nearly everything had changed. Even basic things, like the fact she wasn’t really certain where she was walking, just that she knew by smell and sticking to the common paths they were headed in the right direction. Destinations couldn’t really be seen with her useless eyes in this dark, so fortunately for Targaryen his guide had been too focused on making sure they were travelling inland to see his misstep and stumble. However, because Cheri had also gotten pretty used to following voices in the past months, she did hear the entire commotion and promptly stifled a laugh.

    It died on her lips the moment she ducked, hearing the weighty thud of Targaryen’s hooves landing beside her as the bigger stallion jumped, but she didn’t shy away from the closeness or the possibility of ‘accidentally’ having their bodies touch in the heavy dark like she might’ve with any of her other siblings. Unlike bumping against Reynard (who wouldn’t have been so nice about the faux ear bite), little brawls like the ones she and Targaryen were in right now tended to end softly. Sometimes, Cheri even wondered if she might actually be encouraging the behavior because she liked the ending, where normally she’d cut it off with her twin by now. As the two pegasus settled alongside one another again the uncertainty quickly faded, and Cheri (focused once more on their heading and her questions) only felt drawn away from her purpose when the stallion answered.

    There was something in the tone of his voice that concerned Cheri enough to make her slow down a bit, glance sideways, and take notice of how he’d looked off into the woods just before talking. Something sad, she thought, perhaps a little bittersweet. Cheri cared about her friend—more than she realized—and the moment struck her deeply. She felt like consoling Targaryen somehow, but as soon as Cheri thought about touching him with her nose he suddenly disappeared, incapable of offering anything because he was currently eating dirt.

    Cheri winced and then immediately was by his side, forgetting about the moment and what it could possibly have meant as she hovered tenderly near Targaryen’s crumpled body with a pitiful smile. “You okay down there Yen?” Cheri couldn’t help but chuckle. He was a tough brute, he’d be alright—she’d seen him fight for real, after all, and he was no weakling then. But he was probably still most definitely in pain, so she straightened up and got serious. “Just stay put you loveable clutz.” Cheri murmured in the dark, nosing him gently here and there as she steadied her breathing and began to concentrate, building up her magic to give him a little dose of something good.

    Luckily for six-hooves, he had the best kind of friend for these sort of things, which Cheri was certain only happened in excess every time they got together. Maybe it was their polar luck reacting to one another, or maybe their fate was just the kind that bordered on schtick humor, but either way Cheri didn’t care. She thought it kept him humble and appreciated the practice each happy accident provided.

    “One, two, and three.” Cheri counted each bump of her nose against Targaryen’s crooked right wing, each number a little shot of the healing she could provide with her powers. “Let me know if you have any residual soreness later, alright?” She told him warmly, taking a step or two backwards to give her patient space. “It’s not much, but I think it’ll do the trick for scrapes and pain.”


    @[Targaryen]
    Reply
    #8
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    “Ow.” For a moment, the sharp and then blossoming ache of pain distracts Targaryen from his embarrassment. Exasperation makes him wonder if he should be used to pain by now, with all the stumbling, falling, and getting clawed. Yet, the pain from being attacked by a predator feels very different from the pain associated with tripping over nothing in front of a girl (even if the girl is his best friend). At least he could find some bravery in the claw marks on his skin.

    Falling over a stick, letting a little groan slip from his mouth, and seeing the awkward bend in his wing — Targaryen feels as if he swallowed all the sand from Taiga’s shore. Fallen pine needles dig sharply into his side, and the boy wonders if he could melt into the soft soil if he thought about it hard enough. Surely he has inherited some aspect of Noori’s abilities; now would be the perfect time to become a simple little plant.

    Unfortunately, Targaryen doesn’t sprout roots for feet or leaves for ears. The boy reasons that his next best bet would be to play it off, to ignore the embarrassment that spreads warmth across his cheeks. If he couldn’t become a tree, maybe he could pretend he is someone much braver than reality (much like the way he had put on a strong face in front of Yanhua). So when Cheri asks if he is okay, Targaryen speaks with as much confidence as he can muster. “There must’ve been an earthquake. Your jewels definitely protected you from feeling it.”

    The humor sparks a more genuine version of bravery into his bones, but it fades in an instant when Cheri’s dark nose begins searching him for injuries. Her touch is so soft, so gentle, and it feels like a balm to his skin even without her magic flowing. Targaryen feels warm again, but this time it is deeper than his embarrassment. The sand in his stomach has migrated elsewhere, and the tobiano can do nothing but wait and hope her eyes stay on his twisted wing.

    Her nose does heal the parts of him that need mending, and he feels the familiar heat of her magic. Cheri works quicker than the first time she healed him, and the boy notes the way her power feels narrower and more concentrated. Targaryen stands and flexes his wing once he has space, focusing his residual tension on the way Cheri has perfected her skill.

    When his brown eyes find hers, there is gratefulness in their depths. “Thank you… Again. You’ve gotten really good with your magic.” Targaryen smiles in the darkness, a look that isn’t entirely pure. Before Cheri might think any better of it, the boy uses his newly-healed wing to shove his friend before breaking into a lope, following the trail ahead of them.
    credit to fangs of bearbones.


    @[Cheri]
    Reply
    #9

    The light that meets the dark

    Well, at least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor, had he? Cheri admits that if Targaryen can’t make her smile then the world would truly be a darker place than it already was, and his comment about the earthquake gives him a roll of her eyes and brings out a soft, airy laugh from her lungs. “Cheeky boy.” She thought of him, but it never exhausted her. He had a knack for being comfortably cheesy, for spreading the humor over disaster until it made the taste bearable on the tongue. She considered it a gift of his and often wondered if it might be some magical ability rather than just his personality.

    Likewise he humors her command, because Cheri is not the type to enforce anything. When it comes to their relationship Targaryen has always been compliant to her demands when she made them. It’s why she’s chosen him as a constant playmate over Rey, though more often than not she’s started to entertain herself with Memorie’s company. They’re half-siblings after all, and her lovely sister is capable of understanding things the males don’t. But her Yenny is always the one she spends the most time with; he’s secretly her favorite, and he accepts her for who she is though the age difference between them is a wide gap.

    So she returns the favor as best as she knows how. Her magic flows out of her and into him, and just like that first time on the River’s shore Cheri feels a tingling sense of awareness that they are connected somehow.

    “With you around I’ll be a master in no time.” She smirks back, a bit light-headed. It gives him the opportunity to shove her again, and just like before Cheri is off chasing after him through the dark, laughingly aware that he’s got no idea where he’s going.

    It doesn’t matter. They reach a break in the maze of redwoods and the meadow is just beyond it, so Cheri branches away from her companion and makes for the clearing with a heightened sense of awareness. Her gait slows gradually, from a canter to a trot and then down into a placid walk, and the darkness of the open field swallows everything but the light of her wings and the pale glow coming off her white markings. With an ear tipped in his direction, Cheri guided Targaryen with the sound of her voice.

    “I can hardly picture how it looked before, but this is the place.” She told him, sighing. The grass felt brittle underneath her carefully placed hooves, crackling a bit too loudly for comfort. “Pappa would guide the herd here on the sunniest days in the spring and summer. I used to always look forward to it.” She stopped, afraid to go any further from the safety of the forest.

    Now the memories seemed tainted by black, like everything else.


    @[Targaryen]
    Reply
    #10
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    The trail opens ahead of them like a great, gaping mouth. While the sun’s hiding makes their world dark, the clearing seems to absorb any light that can be found. Targaryen feels a chill prickle across his back, and he pulls his wings tighter to his sides as they begin to slow down. Cheri leaves his side before he has time to follow, and the tobiano slows as she quickly disappears into the consuming darkness.

    When her voice comes, he follows with a fast pace, nervous at how blind he feels. To take his mind off his vulnerability, he pictures the clearing as Cheri talks about it. He imagines waving, emerald grass brushing against his knees and chest. He listens to children laughing, mothers conversing, and birds chirping happily from the trees surrounding the clearing. He feels the sun on his skin, and his eyes close to relish in the daydream.

    Targaryen stops alongside Cheri, and he opens his eyes to absorb what he can see with the soft glow from her wings and markings. The grass feels dead under his feet now, in reality. “It will all come back one day,” he says, and it is more of a prayer than a promise. Targaryen hopes that the sun will return, and the memories Cheri has will be restored; it feels like the only thing he can hope in, while their world is so dark.
    credit to fangs of bearbones.



    @[Cheri] quick lil closer for them <3
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