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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


    [open]  you should find another guiding light
    #3
    i never wanted saving, i just wanted to be found --
    If not for her family she might have been at least a little alarmed at seeing a horse depart from the sea. Beqanna was full of wonderful magics, but it still didn’t make living in the water normal. Until the arrival of Baltia, it was her family—her grandfather Ivar to be precise, and his extensive kelpie brood—that made up the bulk of those with an affinity for water in some fashion, meaning encountering someone not related to her that was a kelpie or water-related in some way was somewhat of a rarity.

    And so it is not because he comes from the sea that she regards him with a guarded kind of suspicion, but rather, she finds herself wondering who he is—a relative, or a Baltian outsider, and it would be a lie to say that her pulse does not quicken just a bit at the prospect that he could be the second one.

    She could not go to Baltia (she could, she reminds herself, she just doesn’t because she is a good daughter, mindful of her parents’ feelings and wishes), but perhaps Baltia had come to her.

    But as he makes his way onto the shore she quickly denotes that he is not, in fact, a water horse. Truthfully, his body seems to reject the element entirely, and instead she marvels at the fact that he did not drown, thinks that perhaps the water is not hungry enough today. He is tired, though, so clearly the sea had had her fun, much in the same way a cat might toy with its prey; tossing it around until it died of exhaustion and fear, or the cat grew bored, or both.

    They are staring at each other, and she is aware of this. She is used to being stared at, the light that reflects off the water of her wings usually catching their attention, and the unnatural beauty that came with being a kelpie often kept it. Their beauty was a strange thing—not the soft, ethereal beauty that many aspired to be, but instead something sharper, something dangerous. Beautiful in the way poisonous plants could be, vibrant but toxic. 

    She stares at him, unashamed, because she is still trying to place where this handsome but disheveled man had come from, and how he had survived something he clearly was not fit for.

    She hears his question but there is an unnaturally long silence that fills the space between them, and the way her bright blue eyes lock with his and a ghost of a smile flirts with the line of her lips you might think she finds the potential awkwardness of it humorous. “Beqanna,” she finally answers him, and she relinquishes her name faster than her previous answer. “And my name is Adriana.” She had taken several steps forward as she spoke, and without asking she reaches to pull a strand of seaweed from the tangles of his mane, and she comments idly, “It’s a miracle you’re not dead.”
    adriana


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    RE: you should find another guiding light - by Adriana - 12-05-2022, 03:49 AM



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