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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


    [private]  do you call yourself a hurricane like me, hestoni
    #4

    you are miles away but i still feel you

    Hestoni doesn’t look for pity in her eyes. In fact, revealing his story to her like a Hallmark drama is more for his own benefit rather than hers. There’s a pleasant sensation that happens when you spill the secrets you have kept for years, he reflects. It feels satisfying and freeing. The chestnut hasn’t ever truly had someone to talk to besides Scorch. His friends are few and far between — had his wife been abusive and overly protective over him? He didn’t think so at the time… He had been perfectly happy to spend his days in the wilderness of the Jungle, playing games with his children while his wife handled the business of being a queen. Perhaps it was destiny for their relationship to follow that path: a manservant and his queen.

    Regardless of the psychology of his broken marriage, Hestoni feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders after telling the mare his story. Her comments don’t faze him; sarcasm is something he is familiar with. You have to have iron skin to spend decades with Scorch. Although this gray mare seems to be a softer version, she reminds him of his ex-wife. It almost brings a smile to his red lips.

    She is moving closer to him now, but Hestoni doesn’t make any moves toward her. She looks young — younger than him — but the chestnut has always been a noble character. He’s never considered himself one of the slippery males who sneak through the darkness to prey on travelers. Even if he did have those tendencies toward violence, the state of his heart doesn’t warrant any desires. Besides, this new world of Beqanna allows many opportunities for hidden talents.

    Her closeness does reveal something he hadn’t noticed in the shadows — a scar cuts the gray hair on her chest. Though his dark eyes move toward the blemish now illuminated by the lazy morning light, Hestoni doesn’t say anything about it. He has his own markings (the most obvious is a deep, jagged scar across his right knee that looks only a few years old), and each of them comes with its own story. Instead, his gaze finds her own. “Hestoni,” he says simply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Starsin.” He’s always been rigid in his old-fashioned ways and he has no plans on stopping that now, even while the world modernizes around him.

    “You look like you have a place to call home.” There’s a certain attitude surrounding horses belonging to lands. It’s something he’s noticed throughout the years; it’s different from the tell-tale scents of whatever place they call home. It’s more like a comfortable look in their eye, like the common lands of Beqanna are a vacation and they know that soon they will return to the familiarity of their own bed. “Where are you from? I know very little of this Beqanna.”

    hestoni



    @[Starsin]
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    RE: do you call yourself a hurricane like me, hestoni - by Hestoni - 12-03-2019, 10:46 AM



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