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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]  Heavy is the crown, sinking on deaf ears [Assailant]
    Listening to thoughts inside a tortured mind wasn't exactly new to her. Believing them held a different weight, in a way she thinks it's what's kept her pushing through the veil, fantasizing of a prettier picture behind the deception. Frightening as her newly found gift had introduced itself, making peace with it had proven just as difficult. Cursed with past torments, now she's to learn of future affairs to add to the already fragile teetering crevices, cracking to reveal parts of herself long thought buried. Her younger self would turn a blind eye to the present fears, bothersome enough but easily worn thin if she tried. Trying, as feeble as it might sound, letting it all go would mean starting over, detached from what and who she was and that was petrifying enough to tether her.

    The only difference from listening to the past and the future is the unknown, the uncharted faces, places and the feelings they brought. At least her pain was familiar, these abstract visions influenced not only foreign visuals but the loss of control. Trying to harness her clairvoyance might as well have been a battle not even the warrior could tame. Were the sprites and spirits of Beqanna only here to taunt her? Flashes of a landscape unexplored by her, yet challenged by an equine also exploring his gifts prompted weary legs to travel. Finding him wasn't as difficult as she thought, she could see his whereabouts, the faces he sought familiar to him. Becoming accustomed to seeing future events and bleeding them into the present tangled it's fearsome claws around her ribs, but maybe this was a path for growth, exploiting her unease and transforming it into an opportunistic favor, after all this was her gift and if she was going to use it she shouldn't be afraid of it. She can't be afraid, anymore.

    The Dale's scattered mountains spilt the valleys with their grace as she walks through the trees, she can smell the lake placed in the center of the lowland. Her mouth is parched as she tries to shift her teeth, the thought of actually seeing him where she found him inside her head seems far fetched, but the hope of seeing him in the flesh dries her throat. She hates him for this, making her stretch this gift, possibly too soon. The idea that she could be wrong makes the mare tense. Having faith crawls around the back of her mind though, and for a moment the thought of being right prevails. His familiar scent is tangible, it's there inside her nose, sure she could imagine it, but the hoof prints faintly disturbing the leaf litter below didn't lie. His scent is the only thing familiar here, despite what she's already seen of this land inside strangled perceptions. She's quiet, unsure if he's alone. Famkee isn't the friendliest in the beginnings of relations. 

    Her ebony mane catches the snarling vines, golden pelt still unassuming in its camouflage, like a tigress stalking prey, blatant in the open but perfectly concealed in the mess of the forest. She's an assassian as he becomes visible to her eye, his dark pelt, wings that look a bit more established on his back, and a horn put to waste that is, until she teaches him how to make use of his weapon. A massive part of her wants to wake up the sleeping giant from her past and put her knowledge to wield in the practice of another. The swelling of the scheme fuels her steps forward, even though she prefers to wait in the cover for a few more moments to admire the stallion. The gravelly sand surrounding the lake is nearly as black as her legs, quite a beautiful contrast to the crystal clearness of the water. As she approaches, a small sly grin finds it's way to her mouth, followed by an ever slyer greeting, the words drip like honeyed sap. "Assailant."      
    if my heart is in your hands will i die

    @assailant Here i am 30 years later. 0_-
     [Image: EOU990v.png] Famkee [Fahm-key]

    More and more, the water calls to him with her sweet, dulcet melodies. More and more, he is vulnerable to her beckoning, so he wends his way to the central lake without hesitation. He takes his time, still not quite confident in the various paths of the Dale, but the gentle humidity and unique scents eventually lead him to his destination.

    The sunlight bounces dazzlingly off the water’s languid ripples, almost too much for one’s eyes to handle. So he lets his eyelids fall as he steps into the lake’s cool embrace, a welcome refuge from the midsummer heat. He sighs quietly, allowing his senses to absorb and process the many sounds and sensations in greater detail.

    The subtle rushing as small waves lap at the shore and his body, the uneven pebbled ground he stands on, the occasional quick grazing touch of an aquatic creature slithering past his legs. The pitter-patter of softly padded feet gamboling through the lush flora, the sharp tearing as the herbivorous creatures sate their hunger. The monotonous clicking and thrumming of flying insects, the rustle of winged feathers chasing a quick snack, the insistent harmonies of both warning and delight cried out into the air.

    A soft, stealthy tread that is eventually unable to avoid the conspicuous grinding of sand beneath hooves.

    His ears flick rapidly in the newcomer’s direction and his nostrils flare slightly as his mind begins to filter through the scents, attempting to match them to his recollections. The obvious ones, such as the wet earthy smell of the lake itself, are quickly pushed aside, but he cannot detect the smell of the unknown creature somewhere behind him. Then, a mild breeze kicks up from just the right direction and delivers it to him.

    There are only a handful of others that he’s met thus far, but it still takes far too long to pull a name from the depths of his mind. As it comes to the tip of his tongue, she calls out to him. He whirls, as much from surprise as from pleasure. He hadn’t realized she was quite that close. As the scattered droplets settle back into the lake from whence they came, he makes a small noise of satisfaction before moving quickly to greet her.

    “Ah, so you found me after all.”

    A smile dances in his eyes as he stretches his neck toward her, letting his muzzle brush lightly against hers. He is genuinely pleased to see her. He hasn’t exactly been worrying about her, understanding that she is fully capable of protecting herself, but he has been wondering what has been keeping her. But then again, he knows she is still unraveling the full potential of her clairvoyance, so perhaps that is the reason for her delay.

    “Was there much trouble in finding your way? I am glad you made it. Welcome to the Dale, by the way.”


    "The comfort zone is always the most desirable place to be. But in settling for comfort, there is a price to pay and it comes in the death of ambition, of hope, of youth, and the death of self."
    -Simon Barnes

    image by EnchantedHawke

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