• Logout
  • 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


    anyone;
    #1
    She spun the stars on her fingernails
    Nayl.

    When she thinks of her name, she thinks of his husky voice and how his lips traced down her neck. She remembers the way he dominated her then cradled her moments later. Her vulnerabilities surfaced and she crumbled to pieces in front of him. What Lior saw – what only he could ever see – was a raw layer that has been submerged far below the surface of her iron shield. They’ve all only seen her fierce, cold-hearted, but in the silver moonlight of his eyes, Nayl melted.

    And she doesn’t regret it, not really.

    The lust for power flickered back to mind the second everything ended. What she saw was a legacy brewing, a force that she is berthing into Beqanna, while Lior saw a mere child, an image of their shared intimacy. She cannot let loose her grip on her throne or the perceptions of her peers. For hours she lied awake beneath the star-kissed sky, contemplating, brewing, worrying.

    But she forced it to the side, at least for now, as the shores of Nerine fell into the backdrop. Why she decided to come to the forest now, her stomach heavy with child, she isn’t quite sure. The towering trees, though deciduous instead of tropical, still remind her of the Jungle. They stand sentinel as she wanders deeper into their shadows, the sunlight cascading down in sheets through the naked branched. A brief glance sees the barren treetops, but then she is looking around, unseeing, while settling close to an old oak tree, lost in thought.




    Nayl
    covet and myrina's creation
    Reply
    #2
    Amet curses at himself as the scent of Illae vanishes on the wind. He'd lost his new friend from the Field just as swiftly as she had come to him, and something about their meeting had the young Akhal-Teke feeling uneasy. She'd never explained why she was so fearful of the Field, of those who roamed it, before she had run from him and the stallion who'd joined them. Amet had found the winged stallion, Brennen, to be pleasant enough, but it is Illae that lingers on his thoughts as he enters the Forest and searches desperately for her scent on the gentle breeze once more.

    She had whispered a word -- Taiga -- but the metallic bay has no clue what it means, rendering the two syllables useless.

    His nostrils quiver as he raises his narrow head, ears pressed forward in hopes of hearing the girl's bleating voice. Instead, Amet can only hear the sound of the barren tree branches as they slide against each other in the icy breeze. His metallic frame quakes in the cold, though perhaps it is not purely the weather that has him shivering.

    He thinks briefly of Iset and Sakir, back in the heat of the Dunes, but he pushes them from his head as the hollow ache grows in the pit of his empty stomach. Forcing himself to continue his journey, the light bay colt takes a few tentative steps forward, weaving through the dead trees in an attempt to look less out of place.

    He pauses after a few moments, and an odd change in the air causes him to believe he is no longer alone in the Forest. Amber eyes dart to the left and right, but it's only after he's moved a few paces further that the pretty tobiano mare comes into view.

    He shifts on lanky metallic legs and pivots to move back to where he had come, mumbling under his breath, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

    if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)