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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


    so shine a light; any
    #1

    She’s been wandering more and more lately. She loves her mother, loves the games they play together, loves their home and it’s many beautiful plants and parrots … but Ischia has started feeling rather small. There’s only so much she can do on one small island after all, especially as a young child, with no other foals her age to play with. She aches for company, company other than her mother (as much as she loves her) - someone she can goof off with, be silly with. 

    She’d kept to the sandbars at first, not wanting to stray too far, and earn her mother’s ire. But then Azlyn had found her, and with a knowing look, had given her permission to wander further afield (so long as she doesn’t stray past the playground).

    So here she stands, hooves planted firmly in the snow at the edge of the playground at the edge of the playground, amber eyes peering eagerly ahead through the widely spaced trees. But her excitement is short lived. There’s no one else in sight, and her face falls in disappointment. She’d been looking forward to finally having the chance to make some friends.

    But no matter, she will make the best of it while she’s here! Starting to hum, she steps forward into the trees, eyes now seeking out rare winter flowers instead of foals. If she’s going to be here by herself, she might as well practice! And she might as well keep moving because she’s never been this cold in her life!

    Roslin
    so shine a light, guide me back home
    Reply
    #2

    It is spring, and the snow was melting away into mud and slop. The young colt, only a few days old, stands in a puddle. He’s staring at his reflection with a grim, unwavering expression. In the sunlight he glimmers softly, undesirably. The green of his coat is nearly black, like the broad, fat plants at the bottom of the forest floor that receive little to no light whatsoever. Its color is dark and menacing, shimmering like a snake’s skin against the stark pearlescent color that splays in haphazard patches across his small body.

    He continues to stare into the puddle almost hungrily, only inches of muddy water to barely cover his still-soft hooves. There is no wind to cause ripples in the water beneath him, yet the water moves as if there was. His eyes, as dark as the green on his coat, reflect the water’s movement. Something catches his attention and the second his eyes pry from the water, the puddle returns to being stagnant and unmoving. He snorts sharply, his brow furrowing as he stares at what would dare distract him. It was only a small finch, pecking at the various twigs and sticks on the ground in search of food, presumably. Maugrim’s lips twitch into a scowl, his ears tipping backwards to touch his neck. The bird takes no notice of him yet, happily hopping through the mud and brush. I hops closer to where he is standing, noticing the puddle and at the same time not showing fear yet of the foal that stood above it.

    Maugrim’s teeth clench tightly in his jaw, his eyes brewing angrily as he watches the bird. It edges closer, chirping with every hop. “No,” he whispers hauntingly, his head lowering slightly. The bird continues to move forward. Swiftly, the water from the puddle moves as if it has a life of its own, surrounding the finch in a not-so-perfect bubble, and pulling it into the puddle. “It’s mine.” Maugrim’s voice is steel as he whispers through clenched teeth, watching the bird flail helplessly between his two forelegs as the water pins it down beneath its shallow surface. He could hear his mother now, her soft voice echoing in his head. “My dear, we don’t hurt helpless creatures.” He had purposely stepped on a lizard that was in his way, he remembers. “Now his mother is going to be worried if he doesn’t come home.”

    The colt’s face twists and the water bubbles angrily as it tries to shove the bird into the mud, waiting for the movement to stop. He was not given permission to be here on his own. He didn’t care.

    Something new tears Maugrim’s attention away from the splatter of water beneath him. At first he tries to ignore it, obsessing with the bubbling water beneath him and the helpless bird he was torturing. But soon, the sound of the humming was too much and the colt lost his focus. He closes his eyes tightly, green lids coming together as he screws his face heatedly. “No, no, no,” he whispers to himself through a clenched jaw. He opens one eye and he sees the bird ruffling its feathers, breathing heavily. With a swift movement of his foreleg, he stomps.

    From afar, it appears he had been merely playing in a puddle.

    His face calms almost immediately and he looks up to see a violet filly traipsing through the wood, humming happily. He stares at her emotionlessly; still standing over his puddle that was now a shallow grave of a crumpled bird. Thoughtlessly, he steps over the puddle and begins to walk towards her at a spritely trot. The chill of winter was still in the air, and its bitter against his fresh skin. He halts and continues to watch her as she moves, picking her way carefully as if she was searching for something. His face remains motionless, and his short tail flicks against his haunch. He hopes she is not looking for the bird. He snorts to bring her attention to him if it wasn’t already.
     
    “Are you looking for something?” he asks quizzically yet with concern, his voice light and delicate with the sound of his youth.

    maugrim

    god make me pay like the devil i am

    Reply




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