"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
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
She’d prayed for something. She was not sure what it was, but she had prayed for something. In the craziness of the world, she was blind to its fate, and was so unsure of her own reckoning and pride that she felt herself clutching her rosary close to her breast waiting for the end to come. And when it finally did—she was not surprised.
For she had been arrogant, greedy and selfish. Pushing herself to the ends of her limits, Reagan pushed along, waiting for the end to take her. When the earthquakes happened, she was not sure what had happened to Ruan, but suddenly she found herself alone, blind, and vulnerable without her natural born abilities. She knew she was in the meadow, and she groped her way along, cussing every time she scraped a knee on a rock or a twig or smacking her face with a branch. Her glimmer had faded away, and now she was revealed as she was—older, body sunken in, full of the scrapes and scars of her many times on the battlefield.
She was the witch—the ogre. And she was not sure that she would ever find her peace again.
She just needed… Something. But she was not sure what.
i'm going to burn this world down in her name with flame and terror
It was all different now. The way the world had cracked and slithered to form it's changes had been more than enough for most to handle. Though it wasn't just the world that Beqanna as a whole had decided to strip clean of it's impurities. It was also the traits of those who had been blessed to have them. And yet was it really that? Could we really call the gifts the gods had given us blessings? For for centuries they had chosen to manipulate those gifts in order to get what was wanted most. Power, acceptance, and always, always more...
The Goddess had been right. They had all become too selfish, too greedy. Each of them had taken advantage of the things they had been given without worry or even a thought to how their actions might result in consequences. It was when he had awoken on the mountainside that he had known the warnings had finally come to fruition and for a moment a sense of panic had enveloped over and within him before subduing and submitting to the realization of change. This is what he had wanted.
Unlike most he had strove for this change, for the world to be placed on a balanced playing field. One that was much more fair. Yet it seemed as though the only goals the rest had around him was to find and make their groups to go out and gather what they could. For the selfishness and the greed... The two were still there, clinging to the hearts, minds and souls of the many. It was only safe to say that if you wanted to survive, you too must follow the game. Whether you desired to or not.
And so he set out, barely flinching when the pain of his wings being stripped away tore threw him as he left the edge of the mountain. For he had already known this pain when the fire had so clumsily seeped away from his spirit so long ago. He walked for what seemed like ages, his heart skipping slightly in his chest at the new sights and smells until finally he stepped into the field and found himself bumping gently against another's shoulder. "Excuse me," his voice is scratchy as it escapes his throat and for a moment he turns to look at the mare even though he cannot see her. For where his eyes should be are two round empty sockets. "I didn't meant to run into you." Slowly he takes a step back before shifting his weight gently, giving her a good amount of space. "I'm Demian. What's your name?"
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
She stared at him.
Rather rudely, this writer might add… But really, she couldn’t help it. For here stood beside her a male who was not only polite as punch, but positively had zero eyes in his head. They were not shut, there was no ocular nerve left over. There were just two black holes on the sides of his head where his eyes should have been. She tilted her head at him, unaware of what she should say. In a land where there currently was no magic, seeing such a thing was… Unorthodox.
“Do not worry about me, laddi. Worry about yourself. You seem to have misplaced a few things…” she said, trying to replace humor with a bit of the uncomfortable factor she was pulling in. She looked away, around, and then back at him, realizing for the first time in a while that for once, she could not sense another’s name simply by looking at them. She shrugged her shoulders, shook her head to herself, and spoke again. “My name is Reagan. Pleased to meet you, Demian. Tell me, did you lose your home?”
09-03-2016, 05:32 PM (This post was last modified: 09-04-2016, 09:55 PM by demian.)
" I'll never lose sight , "
Strange looks were something Demian had been used to every since he was a child. The glowing jaguar spots that had decorated his body had drawn the eyes of many, and now he had a pair of sockets to drag the attention of others towards him even more so. He couldn't say he was the type that enjoyed it, but he was able to say that it never bothered him to cause a disturbance...
A long time ago during his second reign over the Valley the jaguar spotted stallion had allowed Eight to use his body and the gift the kingdom had bestowed upon him to ignite a magical barrier before the coming times of war. The barrier rising and the use of Eight's magic through him had required sacrifice and without thought he had given his eyes, allowing the cosmic flames of purple, green and blue to burn away the soft flesh within seconds, leaving him scarred and unable to see without the use of his flames.
It wasn't an unusual thing, to consider him the nicest of all, or one of the most polite. Yet despite his kind and understanding nature he did have his darkest point and with it had come the birth of his first son. It was quietly said amongst Demian's closest allies that Tannor had been born with his darkness and that much could be agreed upon. The young man had been forced into adulthood at birth and had toyed with the Gates before disappearing into hell only to be spit out in the form of Baal himself before seeking out some of the most powerful to lead a raid against the deserts. His sons actions were considered to have led to the destruction of a kingdom, the first warning to the changes they were now facing.
Yet it was all heresay, and no one would ever truly know nor would he confirm or deny for even he didn't know the answer. Head tilted toward Reagan, he chuckles gently at the words that come out of her mouth first and with a tilt of his lips he smirks softly. "I have misplaced many a things in the past it seems, yet I am still alive and kicking. At least enough so to keep bumping into others unexpectedly."
Another chuckle follows his words and with a soft sigh he leans back on his hind legs gently, stretching the muscles of his hind end slightly. He is thinking quietly to himself when she says the next string of words and perking his ears he hums slightly before nodding and turning his head towards the trees. "We have all lost our homes, Reagan. It's all gone." He wants to say "didn't you know?" and yet he doesn't. He keeps himself from saying more on the matter out of knowing sometimes it is best to just stay quiet.
Negativity after such events could break or make a connection that may in the future one day be important to have and he had learned that lesson many years ago. "Though I am headed in the direction of an old friend. If you'd like to join me, you can?"
DEMIAN ( carnage x adalind )
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now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
She is no fool.
Reagan had been many things in her life, but a fool was never one of them. But so caught up was she in her own misery of no longer being bestowed with magical abilities, that she scarce was aware that nobody else had had theirs either. There was a day when Reggie’s ability with foreign affairs was not something people overlooked. She had known them all. Eight’s power was legendary, and there had been a time, oh so long ago, when they had been friends—sort of. Under the rule of Covet, when she had been the Lady, and he had been a general. The war…the death.
It had been glorious, and all for the sake of nothing but power. And a war that should never have taken place. But that was in the past, when all former apocalypses were dead and gone and this was the new end of the world for the new generation of selfishly traited ponies who loved using their powers. Should the land know better? Of course, because it keeps happening. But why should the land care?
She senses, that even through his polite exterior, the power that lies behind his Demian’s lack of eyes goes to show that there is more to him than meets the… uhm. Eye. He is aware of something, and so when he mentions to Reagan that everyone has lost their homes, she is made aware, for the first time, that perhaps this catastrophe is not just in her, but in everyone. She said a silent prayer before blinking, shifting her weight onto your front legs, and moving off towards his pointed head, in the direction of the trees.
