[open] between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98) +----- Forum: Tephra (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=85) +------ Forum: Islandres (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=42) +------ Thread: [open] between the lines of fear and blame; anyone (/showthread.php?tid=25345) Pages:
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between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Gale - 10-26-2019 The first island he'd landed on was Ischia, but a smiling resident had directed him further north. Now, blue digs his hooves into the smooth sand of the tropical island, and takes a deep breath. It smells of sun and sand and peace and quiet. Castile had been right, the brindle colt thinks to himself. He meanders down to the water and walks some distance along the beach, following the southern coast until it become the western edged. To his left stretches the ocean, broad and never-ending. To his right a thick and lush green world, quiet but for the rustle of small creatures. Blue smiles to himself, shakes out the length of his white mane. Sometime between his invitation from Ruinam and his arrival here, he'd bathed in a stream, and the mud and brambles had been eased out of his hair with a long soak. Now his mane stands upright with only a slight list where it grows heavy, running from his poll to his tail in one unending line. It's his father's mane, though he doesn't know it, an inescapable mark of his heritage. A heritage he does not remember; his only memories are heat and fire and burning. A second time, he shakes his head, as though to clear the thoughts from his mind. He hears a sound ahead, and his bright blue eyes peer forward curiously. RE: between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Divest - 10-26-2019
@[Gale] RE: between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Gale - 10-30-2019 At first he does not see her well, just a shifting bit of pastel against the lush green undergrowth. Good camouflage for this place, he thinks to himself, and then wonders why he considers that good. Somewhere, tickling at the back of his mind is a memory. It will vanish if he reaches for it, the brindle knows, so instead he leaves it lie and focuses instead on the yearling filly drawing near. Though he cannot be quite sure how old he is, she does not seem many years younger. Still a child, but friendly and with a smile that brings a matching one to his mouth. “Hello Divest,” he replies, bobbing his head in greeting without wondering how he knows that is the polite thing to do. “You can call me Blue. ” It’s the name he had chosen in the Field, an apt description of himself if nothing else. It hadn’t seemed too outlandish a name, and it was far better than admitting that he did not have one. Or at least that he does not remember having one. “I think I’m going to live here.” He tells her, recalling that Castile had implied that this place was nearly empty save the friendly Ruinam. Divest is here though, and young enough that he thinks her mother must be as well. “Are you Ruinam’s daughter?” He asks curiously. They are both pale, after all, and perhaps if her mother were some shade of emerald green then Ruinam as her sire would make sense. @[Divest] RE: between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Divest - 11-05-2019
@[Gale] RE: between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Gale - 11-05-2019 Blue blinks his long-lashed eyes, and then looks at himself. It is through Divest’s eyes as she takes it his features, and he is curious about what she sees, where she looks, how she tries to hide it. He likes looking, cannot fathom not doing so, and often prefers to do so from the gaze of others. He slips back to his own sight with another blink, and beams at her easy proclamation. “I thought so too,” he tells her truthfully; that had seemed better than ‘Wing’ or ‘Boy’ or ‘Gale’, all ideas he had mulled over before introducing himself to the trio in the Field. Divest seems pleased by his arrival, or at least the addition of another body to the population of the Resort. Blue decides to think that it is a bit of both, even if he thinks that the quiet of the place is a good bit of his charm. There are few horses here, and that means fewer probing questions, fewer dropped conversations when he realizes his options are to admit his lack of memory or make up an elaborate lie. Blue usually chooses the first. Someone, somewhere, had taught him the importance of truth. The pastel filly seems amused by his suggestion that Ruinam might be her father, and so her denial of the guess comes as no surprise. Ruinam is her mother’s friend, she explains, and yet the length of their acuwantiance sudden seems to concern her. He would never dream of prying, but an empathetic flicker of concern crosses his own face, slipping away when it seems clear that the girl has handled the issue without speaking. “Yes,” he affirms with a bob of his head. “We met in the Field, and I was in need of a place to go. And you? Have you always lived here then?” RE: between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Divest - 11-07-2019
@[Gale] RE: between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Gale - 11-08-2019 Sunshine every day of the year sounds like paradise. Winter has reached the rest of Beqanna. Yet they stand here in weather just cool enough to make sunbathing an appealing but unnecessary thing. There is no snow, just a few distant clouds on the horizon that promise a brief afternoon shower. It is easy to forget about any worries when the most vital decision the blue colt has to make is if he wants papaya or jackfruit for dinner. Lately even that hasn’t been a choice – he’s been too gorged on the seagrass that grows thick and green with the season’s frequent showers to even think about dinner. Just enough horses that he might socialize if he needs to (which is rarely, with days like this one an infrequent exception). The long beaches are perfect for take off and landing, and Blue has been growing rather adept at flight. A bit of a daredevil too, it might be said. It is difficult for him to be overly cautious, knowing as he does that any injury will heal by the time he pulls himself to his feet (or to the surface of the water). The long feathers of his wings shiver at the unconscious memory of breaking bone, but he nods agreeably at the idea that this place is one to forget all worries. He’s never been happier. Divest tells him that she was born here, and the bright-eyed brindle smiles softly at the confirmation of his suspicion. He had also never left his birthland: exploring was well and good but the hills with his family was home. Hadn’t he? But then…what is dong here? How did he get to the Field? “I think so.” He tells her with a frown. “But most of my memory is a blur before meeting Ruinam in the Field.” The way he says it is matter of fact, something he has come to terms with. And he has for the most part. “It’s coming back a little at a time.” It is something of a heavy admission, and Blue turns back from where his gaze has drifted toward the mainland. Give it time, he reminds himself, and time seems to be in abundance here in Paradise. @[Divest] RE: between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Divest - 11-09-2019
@[Gale] RE: between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Gale - 11-09-2019 The pastel filly’s reaction is as kind of one as he can expect, and while the grateful smile that he offers her is a bit subdued, that is only to be expected given the topic. “Thank you,” he replies with a gaze hat flicks back to hers for just a moment. “I hope so too.” That she cannot help is a given, but Blue has not been seeking assistance. He has grown used to (if not yet comfortable with) the emptiness of his early memories. That emptiness is as familiar as the memories he does recall: all those formed in the time since he woke up beneath the earth. Divest offers to show him the island, and the young stallion nods with a smile much more enthusiastic than the one before. “I would love that,” Blue tells her truthfully. “I bet you know it better than most, being born here and all.” He has seen some of the carvings and a great deal of the fruit groves, but little else. There is no need to go farther than his sleeping spot and the beaches from where he flies. No need, but perhaps a good time, he realizes. “Would you show me your third favorite place on the island?” Blue asks. The brindle stallion knows the request is unusual, but he has heard someone ask it before. Someone whose face he cannot remember, but whose lessons on how to get to know a place from the locals have remained. @[Divest] RE: between the lines of fear and blame; anyone - Divest - 12-01-2019
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