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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


    it's still way too soon to be talking about my bed, EIGHT
    #1
    We do what we must,
    Because we can.


    Everything about Camrynn is sure. Well, at least that's true until you pull her in front of a goddess. Set her up with Isis, and she strips herself bare, even her eyes releasing their ability to become and surrendering to normalcy. But out here in this world, here with you, she is the image of certainty. She is happy to be the tether, the one who keeps things tied to the ground. Because someone has to be – with no point of reference, with no certainty, everything is guaranteed to fall apart.

    Oh no, there are no two like them. The glorious magicians, the glorious counterparts, the yin and the yang, the wanderer and the grounded. They must be attracted like magnets, to come apart but be inevitably drawn back together. And she understands how that can be scary, she understands how it can be difficult. She understands why he must flee, and that makes her all the more understanding of his absence.

    If there is something to be said for Camrynn, when she truly feels something, she feels it with her whole being. She is a unified object, moving inexorably, and once decided she moves entirely without doubt. It is rare to see this kind of unity. Even in her, it is not constant. When she takes on roles, when she is playing, when she is lying for her own benefit or for someone else or for fun, then she plays that certainty as a card, using it as a weapon to further her ends.

    But with Eight, in this cave, where both of them are so impossibly naked to each other and glorious in their magnetism, she is only purity.

    He seems pleased enough at her gift. She would have sent anyone there, her gift to him, but she believes too that it would be good for Kindling. The poor girl had been listless, lonely. She did need more friends. And if she were going to find them, well why not in the Valley? Camrynn may be a master manipulator, a genius at pulling all the strings to tilt her various marionettes in exactly the way she desires, but she's not cruel.

    Well, usually.

    "You're welcome." she tells him, a slight chuckle in her voice. She has nothing but good intentions for this gift, but the thought of it amuses her. The thought of her giving gifts to another, of him receiving them, of the two of them watching the mare's travels – it is gently amusing. And the press of his nose into her neck is nice.

    When he turn back to face her, his eyes meeting hers, she isn't surprised by his next question. A lazy smile floats on her lips as she listens to him speak, his words dancing around her. When he finishes, regards him for a moment. "Why Eight, I have a place to live." she says, and her voice is gently teasing. "This place here, this is my home." she says, a smile playing with her lips. She bumps him with her nose on his shoulder, the equine equivalent of one human punching another's shoulder to make sure they're in on the joke. Because of course this isn't her forever home - it will always be their place, but it isn't a home, not in the sense that they're discussing.

    Her eyes turn gold and she chuckles again."I can't say I've ever pined for a throne." her chuckle is low and deep. "and if I were to start pining, I don't think it'd be for the Deserts." She pauses again, her smile growing slightly quieter as she grows more pensive.

    "There are things happening, Eight, you know that as well as I do." Her words are matter-of-fact, but a thin cord of excitement underlays them. She is not one to get herself all worked up over simple politics, but at the same time, this could be so much more. The recent happenings rise before their eyes: the meeting in the Valley, the conversation she had with Scorch, the dragon-mare's request of Cam. And the secrets, the things that only the magicians know, what's hidden from view of all the others.

    "If we're lucky, it'll turn out that I've been frolicking right where I need to be." she says it with teasing amusement and a gentle smile. There is no doubt that she has put herself right where she needs to be. It may look as though she is a pawn in someone else's game, but – as always – it is she who holds the cards, pulls the strings, and overlooks the board.

    Well, perhaps, it is she and Eight now, not just her.

    "I've not given any thought to where I might actually like to live." she says, her voice serious, pensive again. But it only lasts for a moment as she bumps him with her nose, and when she speaks again her voice is teasing, and her eyes turn a gentle ash grey as she turns to look at him. "Any suggestions?"


    C A M R Y N N
    Why? Because I can

    Image copyright MariannaInsomnia


    Just in case Smile

    Original (old) thread: http://www.boards2go.com/boards/board.cgi?action=read&id=1426120972.97666&user=beqannaneutral
    Original continued: http://www.boards2go.com/boards/board.cgi?action=read&id=1426832486.11382&user=beqannaneutral
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    #2

    no matter what they say, I am still the king

    Everything eventually falls apart. At least, if you’re human. The world crumbles around you – people die, lands are destroyed, homes are lost, love is broken. And eventually, you too, fall apart. Your bones begin to turn brittle, your blood begins to thin, and you disintegrate like a dried flower hanging from the rafters.
    But what if you are not human? What if you are like the two of you – counterparts to a whole, ethereal beings that cannot fade away? Is it natural to seek out the only other thing that cannot be destroyed? Is that human nature? Find someone like you and become one with them- they will never leave you, you will never die. Perhaps that was what scared him most, that there is such a thing as forever with you two. There is no ending, no ominous fire in the sky, no hell below – there is simply eternity. And eternity is a very long time.
    While you can truly and madly feel – Eight has never felt much. You are a trickster, weaving the world into your web, and catching hard on something you truly want (a person, a plight, a crown, a purpose). You are constantly creating your own scenarios, forever utilizing your power and emotion. While you play with others, you always strive for what you truly want – you are naked in the light of it all, and you shed your skin without shame.
    Can Eight do that? Has he? Can he be pure? After everything he has said and done, after all of the ill will and do-nots. After all of the numbness and lack of content. Can he shed himself too? How do you become one with another, when you’re not even sure who you are (even after all this time)?
    Eight has never given gifts. Not truly, anyway. He has always given, and asked for in return – folding that pink slip into his pocket for a later date. But you, you give without question. You place Kindling in his lap (for better or for worse), and you ask for nothing more. He gave you crystals upon your skin – could that be a gift? A sign to say, here - yes – I am yours.
    Always coy, always slipping around questions with that twinkle in your ever-changing eyes. You have a home, don’t you. Many, in fact. A swirling mix of deserts and jungle and soft meadow plains. You are everywhere at once. But what about now?
    “This is your true home – your safe haven. But I know it won’t be for long. You are growing, planning, changing.” Could you still have your cavernous womb if you became a queen? Could you call any land other than your kingdom a home? But he knows, that your reference to this revered place as a home was more of a fictitious content. This was the home in your heart, a constructed palace that had turned into a lovers den. But soon, you would have a permanent place, right?
    “Pining for a throne does no good anyway. It spoils you, if you receive it. You feel entitled.” But he knew you didn’t feel entitled. You were just a young woman looking for resolve, seeking out your purpose in life other than magic tricks and gifts.
    He watches the cinemagraph unfold before them – Beqanna’s activities in the last year, a flurry of politics and treaties and trickery and changes of the throne. Yes, there were many things happening.
    “I don’t doubt that you always frolic where you should. You found me, didn’t you?” and he smiles slightly, bumping her with his hip.
    Two magicians, with the world before them – it was, wasn’t it – you and Eight, Eight and you. Where had the line been drawn? When had it been blurred?
    “No thoughts on a home, really?” He is amused, considering the vast amount of places you had briefly ‘settled’ in. “I would offer the Valley – but I’m not sure it’s your cup of tea, being around me all the time and all.” It was so unlike him, this lilt of a joke in his voice (not dripping with sarcasm or blunt attitude, simply ease). “What next for you then, my diamond girl?”

    and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in

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    #3
    We do what we must,
    Because we can.


    Things fall apart. It is entropy, it is the nature of the universe to fall into disarray – but what is magic if not the ability to go against the grain? Even just one of them alone could do the impossible, unspooling time like thread from a spindle, leaving the lives of all those mortals to blow away in the wind, or spinning them back into a pattern of their own making as they choose.

    And is that not what makes them beautiful? Is that not what makes them work? They are two cogs in each others' wheels, spinning around and around. Captivated, captured, changed and also made whole. There is no one like them, and they are not even like each other. But they are all the right things, the fire and the ice, the light and the dark, and together they combine to make the world as it should be.

    Figuratively and literally, considering that between the two of them they contained enough magical power to reshape Beqanna, destroy it, rebuild it, a million times over if they choose.

    But here they are, safe in the womb of Camrynn's creation, talking about the future with all the innocence of a couple lounging on the beach without a care in the world. There will be politics in their future – there will be risk and reward and ups and downs, but in this moment, this perfect snapshot in time, there is just the two of them, their edges blurring together in the soft light.

    He speaks, and her smile is all softness as she listens. She knows that their magic moment here is ticking down, that they're sand through the hourglass right now. Sure enough, they could pause it if they wanted, but there is a crown competition about to start and Cam suspects it wouldn't do well to keep the powers that are running such an event waiting. And so as they banter she replies in kind, the smiles, the bumps, the essence of a love that goes beyond flirtation, and perhaps beyond Eight's comfort zone.

    When he finishes speaking, a wry smile curls her lips for a moment as she looks at him. She skips his second question for the moment, putting it aside in favor of the first one. "Me in the Valley," she chuckles lightly. "With my grandmother there it'd be a regular family reunion." She pauses for just a moment, mischief in her eyes. "Although it would have its benefits." - a slight pause - "The land is very lovely, after all. Even after being partially destroyed by earthquakes I'm sure." Of course they both know that the lovely land wouldn't be the main draw. And that's the fun, they're both in on the joke.

    The sand through their hourglass, but the smile remains on her face. They are so close to imploding, to change – not between the two of them, for they're an unstoppable force, an immovable object – but to the world. She knows that after the competition, the world will be a different place. No matter what the Deserts may judge her, she knows she has him, and she knows that truly the world is their oyster. "What's next," she says with a hint of amusement in her voice. "The game of thrones. Or to be specific, the Deserts throne." she chuckles lightly. "I simply couldn't refuse Scorch." her tone makes it perfectly clear that her entry has nothing to do with Scorch, and that her victory (if she had one) would have nothing to do with the jungle mare either.

    She runs her lips lightly along the crest of Eight's mane. "Speaking of." she exhales, tickling his skin. "I need to be getting over there.". A smile tickles her mouth, and possibly his skin, as her lips still rest just below his mane.

    Silently, she trails her lips up to the galaxy that swirls on his cheek, pressing them to it in a gentle, sensual kiss.

    And then, without another word, she is gone.

    She'll be back – of course she will – and when she is, everything will be different. They'll still be the center of their own universe, but the planets and their gravity will rearrange. No matter what the outcome of the competition, it will be true, because they are the unstoppable force, the immovable object, a single powerful unity like a supernova that never burns out.

    And it is beautiful, and it is powerful, and it could and will be anything and everything.


    C A M R Y N N
    Why? Because I can

    Image copyright MariannaInsomnia
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