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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


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    [private]  they take their shots but we're bulletproof, agetta
    #1
    Ryatah
    This is not the first time Beqanna has been torn asunder, and likely not the last, yet the specific memory it evokes is always the same. The disasters may all be different, and they all altered the land in their own way, but there is only one such Catastrophe that left a mark on her.

    She remembers she had been dead—no afterlife in existence, just her and the dark, and a yawning emptiness. That kind of dead had felt like a dreamless sleep, the kind where she wasn’t aware she was asleep until she would awaken. But it wasn’t the gentle awakening that came with the golden glow of a rising sun, or the smell of dew-laced grass. Instead it was jarring, the seas shaking and the earth splitting and crumbling, and suddenly she was being jerked back into a living body that had been resting at the bottom of the sea. There was nothing peaceful in the way she had awoken on a battered shoreline with seaweed tangled in her hair and water still aching in her lungs, or the unsettling feeling of a heart that had been long-dead at last beating again.

    There was nothing peaceful about awakening to a world that had been turned upside down, both the valley and the dale gone, and fractured pieces of her heart going with them.

    This time, she is alive to watch as the world falls apart around her, and for a moment she perhaps is a bit too slow in moving away from it. A long-time lover of chaos, she would have gladly stood in the midst of the violent winds and watched as Hyaline’s mountains are leveled—she has always been a willing participant in her own heartbreak, and would be only fitting that she should watch as the first home she dared to find any kind of attachment to since the valley fell victim to the same fate.

    But something had stirred her into action, perhaps Atrox’s voice or the sight of everyone else fleeing. Touching him, she had transported the two of them to the safety of the forest, leaving behind the dust of the only home the two of them had known together.

    She is restless, though, the blood rushing in her veins with the frenetic kind of energy that danger always seemed to inspire. The forest feels claustrophobic, the trees too close together, and she hates the way the blinding brightness of her aura casts light in places meant to be dark. A familiar knot of tension builds in her chest, and the darkness that had followed her back from the void seems to tighten around it, as if it was trying to provoke some kind of reaction from her. She ignored it, as she always did, but sometimes she wondered what would happen if she didn’t.

    Wordlessly, she leaves the rest of them behind, hoping that if she walks long enough this feeling will dissipate.

    She walks until she finds the shoreline at the southern edge of the forest, and then she follows it west. Most of Beqanna is flooded, and she tries to ignore the trapped feeling it inspired. She spent too much time over the last few years being stuck somewhere, and the sight of all the water was doing nothing to ease the unsettled feeling.

    When she arrives at the Pampas she is, of course, not alone, considering there were so few places for anyone else to go. It surprises her though, the way her jaw tenses and something in her eyes shifts, a flash of annoyance that she is not accustomed to feeling. She makes a motion to retreat back the way she had come, but a flash of familiar white catches her eye, and her steps immediately falter as she comes to a stop. “Agetta?”
    EVEN ANGELS HAVE THEIR WICKED SCHEMES


    @Agetta
    #2

    The last time Beqanna had reshaped itself, Agetta had been a ghost of herself. That half-way living that had allowed her to stay alive far longer than she should have. As a result, she doesn’t even really remember that last change - what the Dewdrop Gates had been like, if she had ever gone to see it or just resigned herself to the meadow until, eventually, things were put back where they needed to be.

    Now that the running is over, now that her heart has had a chance to return to its regular rhythm, she wonders if the same thing will happen again. A temporary displacement, before - eventually - Beqanna finds a way to sort things out. There will be a call, a quest, and because the generations have not yet learned any better - they will answer it, as they always do.

    These thoughts are far too pragmatic to truly stick in Agetta’s mind or even offer her any comfort, there’s far too much general worry for it to work through. For those she knew and those she didn’t. She had made her way to this flower-filled land - butterflies flitting around, such variety in the colours they could almost be mistaken for smaller cousins of the fairies that live in the mountain. Agetta doesn’t know this land well, only learning the name from someone else after they arrived, and has spent much of her time wandering the strange new coasts, keeping an eye out.

    For anyone, for everyone. It’s a natural state for her to worry, comforting in a way that’s not even remotely relaxing.

    She’s wrapped up in her thoughts as she wanders when she hears her name.

    Relief and a little surprise temporarily soothes her mind as she automatically angles her steps to draw her closer to her friend.

    How incredible to see the beautiful mare here - surrounded by light and flowers instead of that thick darkness. “Ryatah!” And then, a little more quietly as her disbelief begins to dissipate. “I'm so glad to see you. I wasn’t sure he would have actually gotten you out.”

    She had no reason to believe Carnage would have - though she had spent part of her time in that void wondering about it, worrying that Ryatah hadn’t actually been saved and instead had been placed somewhere worse.

    Agetta


    @Ryatah
    [Image: Agetta-by-Star-smaller.png]
    #3
    Ryatah
    She has not seen Agetta since that brief moment in the void, when her mind still could not decipher between reality and delusion. It was only because Agetta was something different, a detection of something new in the seemingly endless cycle of catching a glimpse of dapple gray or a flash of yellow eyes in the infinite dark, that the sight of her had almost jolted her mind back into focus.

    It hadn’t been enough, though, and in the end Ryatah had hardly questioned when Carnage took her with him and they left Agetta behind, because she hadn’t been certain either of them were real to begin with.

    It was not until much later—after she found her way back completely—that the realization of what had happened finally hit her, and while she felt a whisper of guilt at the back of her mind, she did not act on it. She did not know why Carnage had taken her out and placed Agetta there instead, but she did not want to question him. The thin, fragile line she walked with him always felt as if it was in a state of crumbling, and she wasn’t ready for it to collapse just yet.

    Agetta’s statement reminds her though that not everyone sees him the way that she does, but she offers only an easy smile despite the flare of defensiveness that clenches in her chest.

    “Carnage and I have a…understanding,” she says slowly, and though she chooses her words carefully she still finds that they fall short. Explaining their relationship was virtually impossible; it deviated so far from what most were familiar with that she finds it’s easier to not speak of it. After a long pause where it seems as though she is debating sliding past the topic, she finally tells her softly, “I’m sorry, though. It wasn’t my intention for you to be left there.” Now, her dark eyes shift from Agetta’s face, using the excuse of surveying the landscape as a reason to ignore the unease still beneath her ribs as she teases weakly, “At least we are both here to witness Beqanna falling apart, again.”
    EVEN ANGELS HAVE THEIR WICKED SCHEMES


    @Agetta




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