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  • Beqanna


    Assailant -- Year 226


    "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 clock is ticking and we can't stop
    Myrna watches the sun rise. It climbs slowly over the western mountains, heralded by the colorful sky. The young filly looks up at the streaks of red and pink and gold in the sky, and a smile turns up the edges of her mouth.

    A gust of wind blows in from the north, smelling of salt and cold. Narrowing her blue-grey eyes, the filly wonders how long she might have before the snow begins to fall. Half a day at least, she decides, long enough that she might have time to reach the lake and return.

    Wearing the shape of a colorful young goat, the girl that has only ever known the name Myrna makes her way down the mountainside. She is nearly as pale as the coming snow, white with the palest touch of gold. Her eyes are the same shade as the blue-shadowed granite she climbs down, deep and dark and far too knowing for a girl so young.

    But she is more than just a girl, and that is clear when between one rock and the next she grows a pair of wings. Myrna had been thinking of the birds that circled overhead, wondering if one of them might be a shifter, and her body had changed of its own accord. She stops, turning to look at the unexpected new limbs.

    In her equine shape, Myrna has wings, but they are not wings like these. These are wings that could carry her in flight, not the downy feathered baby wings of her true shape. Most of the feathers are the same palest palomino of her coat, but at the shoulder they are slashed in shades of blue. This is what her wings might look like someday, she realizes, when she is a grown up and ready to fly.

    She quickly loses her grip on the manifestation, the limbs disappearing into her sides and leaving her as unremarkable as any of the doelings that might linger in this rocky Hyaline meadow. She isn’t ready to fly yet, that much is clear. Huffing at this confirmation of what she has been told, Myrna resumes her trek down toward the lake shore, doing her best to remain aware of her surroundings but quite often distracted by something exciting.

    Playing tag and-bump-the-head with a pair of rock lambs, sampling some colorful yellow flowers and tucking a few more into the mane that grows down the length of her back, soft and still upright. The snow grows shallower as she makes her way down to the valley, and she remembers Malik telling her that in summer it would be gone entirely. That seems impossible to a girl who has known only one season - snowy spring - but her brother does know quite a lot and he hadn’t looked like he was lying when he told her.

    By the time she stands beside the lake, the mid-morning sun is high and bright, and its reflection glitters in the water ahead of her. Should she jump in, she thinks? Malik had shown her the shape of a seal once; Myrna thinks she might be able to imitate it. But what if she loses control underwater? Alone, she might not be able to swim to the surface. Deciding against such a shift, the filly instead begins to meander along the shore, nosing curiously at the rocks along the water’s edge.

    Messages In This Thread
    the clock is ticking and we can't stop - by Viszla - 09-25-2021, 07:51 AM

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