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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]  tired of feeling lost; marlyn.
    #1

    He had run.
     
    His very blood predicated that he would not return, either. His mother had run. To his knowledge, she was still running. She had never been a parent to him, other than giving him life, and he had very much done the same with his own offspring. That he was considering changing his ways this late in life—after all he’s done—well that was not to be thought of. He refused.
     
    Upon the beach, flopping about as a fish, gasping for air, he had left Marlyn in his cave, looking beyond him, hoping for… something. Something that was not his to give. Something he no longer had possession of…
     
    Because unwittingly, he had given it all to her.
     
    And in his fear, he had run like hell.
     
    And in his wake he had left a gift. One night in the peace of their limestone cave, he had left a part of himself that would stay with her. He knew by now she must be aware that she was to give life to their child, whatever he may be. Ashley could not fathom the depth of his failure that he had dropped the ball on her.
     
    But dammit if he couldn’t get her from his mind.
     
    She plagued him as she always had—those soulful, trusting eyes that looked to him as if he held the world in his metaphorical hands. He was nothing more than the warrior who held a sword and watched over the kingdoms. Ischia was his home, his lifeblood. He had never meant to steal a queen from her throne.
     
    His was a story not to be repeated, and yet he had done just that very thing.
     
    He takes a chance, stepping out of the trees and into the sun, hoping above all hope that he would not find her here. However, there was business he had that would take him to the mainland.
     
    God help him if he ever sees Marlyn again.
     
    He would never be able to let her go.

    ashley
    I walked the path, it led me to the end.


    @[Elle Belle]
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    #2
    And she had given it all up for him. Given up her soul, her heart, her throne. She wanted him and only him forever and ever like the moon wanted the sun, chasing after and clutching at the last whispers of sun streaks in a humid evening sky.

    But he had left.

    He left her alone in the damp cave, waiting patiently for his return, his scent, his voice, his eyes. Anything! ANYTHING! But no no no. It was all in a fretful despair does the mare realize that he is not coming back. A fortnight passes ater their gentle love making before she accepts what it is to be. Marlyn had raised herself up, trimmed herself in the ugliness that was the brown river carp and returned once again into the hungry embrace of Beqanna.

    Time passes painfully. It should have gotten easier but it does not.

    The spotted woman stands amongst naked trees. They sway and dream all around her. Marlyn is silent as she listens to the small patter of fresh snowflakes that drift all around her, catching in her mane and tail like soft feathers. Her sides are extended with the child that grows in her. Each breath is labored more and more as the months have passed and she realizes what the stars have written for her. She is to be a mother to her child, to raise the babe with every ounce of strength and warmheartedness she had.

    Her coat was thicker now, the light feathering of her hooves nearly touched the ground as winter has embraced her and the child with fierce possession. Marlyn currently nips at a few shards of grass beneath the white snow, foraging for nourishment-

    Wait. What was that?

    The scent -his scent- reaches her first. Amber eyes are keen and catch a glimpse of the ginger stallion as she raises her head. Hot, angry tears touch her eyes but she refuses to let them spill. Delicately carved features furrow like the very gray clouds that gather overhead and Marlyn wastes no time. "Ashley." His name is bitter and foreign on her tongue but she is not afraid. She had been a queen, she does not know fear, nor would she allow him to instill it in her. The spotted mare stands listening to the deafening silence of the snowfall, waiting for him to turn to see her. Would he run again? Work his magic and spirit away? She waits, watching from her place upon a small knoll, for his reaction or perhaps lack of one.
    MARLYN
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    #3
    censored censored censrored
    ASHLEY
    He should turn. He should run.
     
    A century—he has lived more than a century. He has had love before in his time. Love is easy to find. He has had women. He has even had a great love. Oh, Murphy. How his heart hurt when he thought of Murphy. The days bled together until there was nothing left of the world. And then Charlemagne, that wicked child, had sealed him up… it all went black
     
    But even then, he had his wits about him. He never lost himself in the eyes of another. He was always in control—he’d had to be. First general, and then King—and then Lord. His duty first was to the land. It had always been, and Ashley was determined to make it always be. So when he hears his name being called out as an echo, he knows he should turn and run.
     
    But he is frozen to his spot, as if his hooves have melted him to this patch of land—or as if the very roots of the earth had dug up and grabbed him about the ankles. He was well and truly stuck; and he knew it.
     
    Even his magic could not save him this time.
     
    She approaches him from behind—he is not hard to spot against the snow. Reddish buckskin, amber eyes, and deep ginger hair. He is shorter than she is, but older; rugged, powerful. But oh so tired. He can smell her; flowers and saltwater. It is enough to send him over the edge. She smells like the ocean and he finds that he even lacks the ability to turn around. He hears her say his name again. His eyes narrow, and his heart freezes in time. He was a warrior. A King. He could not be swayed. He could not be conquered.
     
    He does not move. A gentle breeze picks up and sweeps his hair behind him, and he drops his head to the snow, nosing it with a velveteen muzzle, his ears reverting backwards. Ashley stops—breathes.
     
    In a low dulcet one, he speaks few words. Few, but precious. “It’s a boy, isnt’ it?”
    and the girls caressed me down ughhh that's that lovin' sound
    HTML by Call
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    #4
    The bastard.
    The mother fucking beautiful bastard.

    Lids close slowly over the darkness of her eyes as she winces at the sound of his voice. It jars her, stinging like a thousand bees but so sweet to her ears. She had laid awake at night with a clutch of tears threatening her eyes as she longed to hear the sound of his low voice. But this? This is what he asks? Marlyn could feign anger, could pretend, she could turn up her head and growl a response along the lines of 'none of your damn business' except that it was. A long breath is drawn as she drowns in his scent.

    Cedarwood and pine.
    Earth and fresh rain.

    Damn you, Ashely. If he chose to trespass into her mind, then he could feel the hurt and dark pain in it's depths. An exhale follows. "Yes." One little word seals their fate. Marlyn would never deny the child of his father once born if Ashley should decide to disappear again but the mare would never allow herself to reach out as she does now. If the pale sienna male should run again...well...disappointment would solidify the heart that beat in her chest (for him). Perhaps she would return to Sylva and make her peace with it all.

    (She hopes he will not leave)

    Dark eyes try to remain hard, angry. She tries to still the flutter of her heart. Marlyn wills for their child to still in her womb as he moves at the sound of his father's voice. Marlyn is scared of all of this. Never has she loved or made love. Never has she bore a child. Never has she known such pain.

    Marlyn says nothing else but watches from just at his right flank as Ashley stands frozen and strong as always. She wants to melt against him, scream and cry it all away. She wants answers and she wants him to touch her tenderly and tell her its all okay. She fears that she wants too much and so she simply stands quietly with heaving sides, her control slipping slowly with every jagged breath and blink of her moist eyes.
    MARLYN
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