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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


    i had a dream about a burnin' house; elektrum
    #1

    steady as a preacher, free as a weed…
    --couldn‘t wait to get goin‘ but wasn‘t quite ready to leave


    She was no longer the child he had taken to the stars.

    Though she still had a gypsy soul, the awkward lines on her body had been replaced with the smooth curves of a grown mare. Her eyes still held a wanderlust but they were more knowing somehow, more worldly. One couldn’t see the stars and feel the kiss of the suns fire without knowing a little more. She knew now that monsters lurked not only in the shadows. She had learned that war was a part of her life and her fathers life. She had learned lessons in loss and acceptance, and was better for having done so. No longer did she peer through rose-colored glasses, but instead took everything given to her with a proverbial grain of salt.

    She had also learned the true scope of her powers.

    Not only could she push her own voice into anothers mind, but she could pull from their minds as well. Their thoughts in particular. While she could not sense their emotions could she hear their thoughts as clear as a bell. It was a most useful skill, one she had practiced quietly and without any fanfare. She wasn’t sure her father (or anyone, for that matter) would have appreciated having their minds pried open and read like a book.

    That didn’t mean she was above doing it to him though.

    Him. Elektrum. The time wizard who had let her taste star dust and choke on sunfire. He had shown her the world and then plunked her back down in the Meadow without so much as a backwards glance, leaving her cold and aching in his absence. She had always picked up something odd about him, that things weren’t as they appeared, but having no practice with her powers she hadn’t been able to figure him out. But she was grown now, and she had a burning desire to finish what had been started all those years ago.




    topsail



    @[Nev]
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    #2
    A lone colt wandered into the horse's view as he made his way through the sea of grass, in search of one of the many streams. His coat was a dusty color not unlike hers but he had a stocky build and was a bit pudgy despite his three-day journey. A rebellious look was in his eye and feathering was starting to grow on his legs like a moustache on a teenage boy. With that said, he still posessed a childlike innocence.
     Sighting her from a distance, his step faultered for a second. Besides a few brief encouters along his journey, he had never seen a horse that wasn't in his herd. As he came closer to her, his eyes kept darting to the strange horse, but he tried not to stare since he had been taught it was impolite.
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    #3
    Ebony daggers dig deep into th' soft terrain, kicking up chunks of debris behind 'im. Th' handsome hellion trots t'wards th' trio, 'is banner raised and paperthin-nares flaring wide to inhale their scents. It is not like 'im t' approach so quietly, 'owever, and being a brute o' the general n'er-do-well variety 'e whinnies loudly t' startle th' other brujos t' remind them o' their place. "'Lo," 'e says, bowing 'is head low. 'E lifts 'is labia and gently plucks a cerulean rose from th' topography with 'is ivory incisors to give to the femme fatale.

    Dropping it at th' fair maiden's dagger's, 'e whickers softly to the damsel Dreams of Jupiter. "M'lady, ye are the most beau'iful creature I 'ave e'er seen."
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    #4
    The colt snorted indignantly and tossed up his head. "I am a stallion!" he squealed, glaring at the horse, so caught up in making his masculinity clear that he overlooked the stallion's displays of dominance. Arching his neck and holding his tail high as any proud stallion does, the youngster strutted off, putting to practice everything he had seen his father do in his two years of living in the herd.
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