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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


    I won't beg you to stay; any
    #1

    I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness,
    nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory

    She hadn’t been able to find his father. Oh, they had looked; Nairne had kept them patiently waiting, wandering the Meadow and the Forest for these past six months, but to Ryan that seems already like forever, and he is tired of looking. Tired of the look in his mother’s eyes, the one that says she needs to find Woolf for some reason; some reason like she isn’t planning to stay. The boy knows she doesn’t want to leave him, but she doesn’t want to take him out of Beqanna when she goes, either. Something about how she isn’t sure she will make it all the way back to their family, and she doesn’t want him to be alone somewhere.

    As if he wouldn’t be just as alone, here.

    But anyway, he has decided that it is time to find a place to live. Nairne is happy to live in the Meadow, to keep looking for Woolf, but the boy has talked to the other kids in the Playground and he knows that people have actual homes, and that if Mother is going to leave him here alone, he’d be better off in a herd or Kingdom than by himself. It’s a lonely thing even the two of them, and he cannot imagine being completely solitary. Grass grows deeper and greener beneath his feet and he looks around, eyes widening at the sight of the crystal clear water that spreads before him. The mountains were hard work, and he had spent most of the climbing time as a panther, but now he is horse again, and his born-color of gold framed in purple.

    It’s beautiful here, and Ryan breathes deep of the scent of the summer’s last flowers, eyes widening as he steps closer to the water, looking into the depths and seeing the rocks so deep at the bottom. He wonders if anyone lives here.

    Ryan

    ( I love only that which they defend. )

    #2
    iset

    theres an old man sitting on a throne thats saying...

    Something was different.

    Although she had only called the lake home for a short time, Iset knew the typical smells and sounds that resided there. And this one was different. It wasn’t anyone she had ever encountered; something she was glad for. If it a familiar smell, it couldn’t be anyone from her old life; it wouldn't be anyone who could hurt her or make her return to the Dunes. However, she couldn’t help but feeling a bit sad at the same time. If it wasn’t a scent recognized, then it wasn't Sakir either. But then, who was it? Could it be the ever elusive Brennen? She was determined to find out. 

    Stumbling over the craggy rocks and yanking her thin legs to free them from the weeds ensnaring them, Iset makes her way around the lake to where she can finally see the silhouette of a small, slender horse. If this was Brennen, she had no idea how she was supposed to help her and Amet with anything. He was so…little. 

    The closer she got, the filly realized that there was no way that this was Brennen. Whoever this horse was, he was young; about her age she’d wager. 

    “Hey!” she yelled, paying no mind to the daydream she appeared to be interrupting. She strode up to him, pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin. “Who are you? And why are you here?"

    ...I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut

    #3
    if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

    The journey back to the Lake from Nerine was tiresome, though the colt is wide awake with ideas for their home swirling through his head. Brennen had agreed to help them keep their new territory safe, and would assist them in recruiting and training other young horses like them. The Akhal-Teke colt is warmly enthusiastic, a small grin tilting up the corners of his mouth at the thought of it all - he had a purpose to be here, in Beqanna, and no one could make he or Iset return to the Dunes.

    He roams through the trees, his metallic bay coat reflecting the noontime sun brilliantly. He finds that the Lake always feels cozy, no matter where he is wandering within the territory, and Amet considers that this is what home is supposed to feel like.

    And it wouldn't feel like home, would it, without Iset's sharp voice?

    The young girl's Hey! catches Amet's attention swiftly and he turns his lithe frame in the direction of her alarm, his chest tightening with concern as he bounds through the tall grasses and closer to the lake. As the forest gives way to the shoreline, the colt's amber eyes fall upon his sibling and an unfamiliar (and interestingly colored) colt.

    Snorting quietly as he nears the pair, Amet slows and gives his sister a quick nudge, "Iset! How are we supposed to offer a home to others if you scare them all away?" His nostrils flare and he turns his sharp gaze away from the filly before acknowledging the colt who stood at their Lake. "Welcome to the Lake. My name is Amet."

    Amet
    #4

    I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness,
    nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory

    She is right that he is lost in his own thoughts, eyes closed, soaking in the surroundings. But he jerks fully awake at the sound of her approach, his green gaze drawn to her as he takes a cautious step backwards, careful to keep some space between them. She is not much older than he, but Ryan knows not to underestimate anyone by appearances. Not in a place like Beqanna. For the first time, he mourns the fact that his panther form is as juvenile as his horse form, because hot thinks perhaps he would feel safer as a fully grown big cat facing off against the angry girl in front of him, but the body of a half-grown panther cub isn't going to do him any favors. He opens his mouth to form some sort of reply, but is distracted by the second arrival.

    The colt is older than the two of them, though Ryan wouldn't call him an adult. He shares the same interesting sheen to his coat as the girl, and Ryan wonders if it's something he can replicate, but he doesn't want to startle anyone by trying to change colors so he tries to resist the urge. "I'm Ryan," the boy says carefully, gaze flickering between the two. Clearly they are related, perhaps siblings? Ryan doesn't know that his own grandfather looks much the same, complete with the shimmering coat (and perhaps he will never know), but he admires the beauty of the two of them, regal even in childhood, almost as much as the lake itself. "Your home is very beautiful," he offers with a hesitant smile, "But I can keep moving if you'd rather I not linger. I'm looking for a home, but..." 

    The colt's eyes turn to rest on Iset, before liking back at Amet. The colt seems welcoming, to want new people, but the filly less so. Ryan doesn't want to overstay his welcome - the Lake might be beautiful but it is not the only beautiful place in Beqanna, if she does not want him here. In his anxious wait, he forgets that he was trying to stay his own natural color, and begins to change. The purple stays but his body color gradually deepens, something between Iset's copper-brown and Amet's light bay, and takes on some approximation of their natural sheen. 

    Ryan

    ( I love only that which they defend. )

    #5
    iset

    theres an old man sitting on a throne thats saying...

    Iset had meant to startle the newcomer. It wasn’t nice, but it was true. She found a sense of peace in seeing that she could accomplish her goal; she felt certain that if she could succeed in intimidating the newcomer, it meant that he would not pose a threat to her or Amet.

    A small tendril of guilt snaked through her chest at his offer to leave. She hadn’t meant to drive him away, only to asses him and the situation, albeit a bit rudely. Just then, Amet appeared on the ridge line, picking his way through the craggy rocks and coming to Iset's side. The strange colt's emerald eyes linger on her before moving to her brother and then back again, and she can tell he was trying to size her up just like she was to him. 

    He introduced himself as Ryan, and a small sense of her security was restored in knowing his name. If you can call something by its name, it makes it far less frightening. She had learned this in the Dunes. Before she could assure him that he did not, in fact, have to leave, something happened.

    The bastard changed colors.

    Like he actually changed. Colors

    It was a slow transition; so slow that she convinced herself that it was a trick of the sun until she could deny it no longer. Iset had never seen anything like it before, and when she did, to say it startled her was an understatement. 

    “What the hell?” She exclaimed as the light buckskin of Ryan’s coat melted away into a shade that fell somewhere in the middle of the colors that blanketed her and her brothers bodies. Her golden eyes blinked at him in shock. “How. How on earth did you do that?” She questioned sharply. His previously muted golden coat took on what she believed to be his take on the natural shine that their coats held. 

    “I-just-what?” She sputtered, for the second time in her life at a loss for words.

    ...I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut

    #6
    if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

    What surprises Amet more than the color-changing ability that their new friend reveals is the absence of Iset's usual smart remark at his own arrival. It's no secret that they are at each others' throats more often than not, but perhaps Beqanna was opening them both up to the idea of a civil kinship, one that did not revolve around the fear and pain caused by Him.

    Maybe, eventually, Amet could be friends with his younger sister. With or without Sakir.

    The thought tightens his chest and the light bay colt forces his attention back to the conversation at hand. He laughs warmly at Iset's exclamation, amber eyes moving between his sister and the purple-pointed colt. He'd seen wings and scales and something close to undead since his arrival. Color shifting is a nice alternative to the startlingly gross. Shifting, almost excitedly, in place, the metallic boy tosses his head and pivots so that his lithe frame is angled more towards the crystal waters of the Lake.

    "What Iset means to say is that we would love for you to join us here," his gaze finds the girl for a moment, half expecting a protest on her part, something obligatory based on the fact that he has dared to imply what she may have really meant. After a moment, however, he looks back to Ryan and gives him a sheepish, but inquisitive, smile. "Where did you come from?"

    Amet
    #7

    I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness,
    nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory

    He hadn’t meant to change colors, it just sort of happened when he thought about how unique their coats were and got distracted. It was a problem, really, that he had so little control over it; his mother maintained that their only saving grace was that he did have complete control over the other shifting; if he’d been in the habit of suddenly becoming a panther on a frequent basis someone might take a true fright. But her exclamation startles him almost as much as he seems to have startled her and in the blink of an eye, much faster than the gradual slide of before, he is completely a new color, a clear attempt to blend into his surroundings with greens on the bottom and blues on the top and some splotches of mountain-colors on top.

    When his immediate shock fades and his heartrate starts to slow, the boy slides back into gold-framed-in-purple with a sheepish huff, a nervous glance from one to the other, as he contemplates her question. “Sorry. I didn’t realize…I’m not totally in control of it yet, and you guys are just so pretty…” Well that wasn’t any less awkward, good going Ryan. He shifts uncomfortably in place. “I was born able to do it. My mom’s normal but my dad has magic of some sort I guess and my grandmother could change color too, so it’s inherited from them. It happens in Beqanna a lot. A lot of people are not what they seem at first, or not entirely.”

    He ponders this for a moment, and decides in the interest of full disclosure that he’d rather not startle her on accident later. She seems like she might be the attack-first, ask-questions-later type. “Ah…don’t freak out or anything but I can also…” and gold melts away into black, hooves to paws, long hair into a lithe tail, and an adolescent panther stands where the colt had been, tensed to move quickly if attacked. When he isn’t, Ryan relaxes and then slides back into horse form, giving a quick shake as if to settle all of his hair back into its proper place.

    “I would like to stay, if you’ll have me,” he says then, solemnly, hoping that the cat-thing isn’t too weird for them. Sometimes the littlest things seem to push the non-native Beqannians over the edge. “I was born in the Meadow. My mom is from one of the Kingdoms that no longer exists, and she won’t settle into a new one. I think as soon as she thinks I am independent, and after she has a chance to introduce me to my father, she’ll leave. Her parents and her siblings live outside of Beqanna now, and she wants to return to them.” It should be terribly depressing, to hear someone as young as Ryan speak of his only parent planning to leave him, but someone he makes it sound matter-of-fact, the only hint of discomfort in the depths of his green gaze. “Where do you guys come from?”

    Ryan

    ( I love only that which they defend. )

    #8
    iset

    theres an old man sitting on a throne thats saying...

    Amet's bright laughter distracts Iset long enough from the color changing colt. Her thoughts are momentarily diverted from the stranger in front of them as her brothers brief absence comes to mind. “You, I’ll deal with later,” she spits. She still hadn’t quite gotten over her frustration that her brother had left her for some unknown reason. Again. And refused to bring her with him.

    Again.

    You can see how this is becoming a trend. 

     A sharp, metallic taste blooms in her mouth at her brother’s kind words, “How. Many. Times. Have. I. Told. You. Not. To. Speak. For. Me,” her scathing words grow louder and louder with each one that flies from her mouth. One of the things that caused most of her and Amet’s spats in the Dunes was his love of putting words in her mouth. More than once, he had spoken on her account to try and keep Him from dealing out a punishment, triggering her sharp words and quick denial that only succeeding in provoking a crueler beating. 

    She sidestepped away from her brother, needing to put some space between them before she lashed out with more than her curt words. Her eyes were hardened when they flicked back to Ryan, momentarily having forgotten that the other horse was standing in front of the pair. His stuttered apology reminded her of the similar words Sakir would use to try and talk Him out of hurting her. Iset softened towards the lonely colt as the gaping hole in her that her twin used to fill widened just a little bit more. 

    She blushed and smirked at his words, “You think I’m pretty?” she questioned. She had never heard those words used to describe her before, and she had to admit she didn’t mind the way they sounded. He looks at her with apprehension plain on his small face before his equine frame dissolves and that of a cat takes its place.

    After the shock wears off, the filly’s clear laugh rings out in disbelief and echoes across the water. “Damn,” she mutters, the words lacking their usual  bite, “I wish you could teach me how to do that.” A fist of sympathy clenches around her heart at his story; one so similar to the story shared by the siblings. 

    “We…” she begins, slightly hesitant to tell everything to a stranger. But, she reasoned, if he was going to live here with them she might as well disclose at least as much as Ryan had. “We come from the Dunes. It’s a desert land,” she says shortly, already being transported into the fresh memories of their old home and not liking it one bit. “We never knew our father. Our mother was, and probably still is, the Queen. She was a bitch,” she said bluntly, “She didn’t give two shits about us. The horse that ruled by her side was the devil himself,” Iset’s eyes caught fire. “A few months ago, this dumbass,” she tossed her head in the vague direction of her brother, “Decided to run off in the middle of the night without telling me or my twin, Sakir.” Those same fiery eyes dropped in shame at the mention of her other brother. “And then I had to run too. But he would’t come with me.”

    She straightened and narrowed her eyes, looking past Ryan’s head as though if she stared hard enough, her twin’s reflection would appear in the water. Realizing it wasn’t going to happen, her eyes met his once more. “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.” She threw one last blistering glance in Amet’s direction, her anger still new and hot, before offering a strained smile to their new Lake-mate. Once the smile faded, Iset couldn't help letting the guilt, sorrow and anger settle in her chest. Without another word, the shiny filly wheeled around and dashed off into the trees.

    ...I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut

    #9
    if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

    Iset's vehement greeting is unexpected, although, admittedly familiar. Amet's lips drop from their smile and into a terse line, his pupils narrowing as he stares at his younger sister even after she's turned her attention back to Ryan. She moves further away from him, no longer a facade of solidarity to put on display for their newest companion, but the metallic colt doesn't mind. It's better this way, the space between them, so that the electricity does not build until they lash out. Amet would never seriously injure his sister, but they had only ever seen one technique for problem solving, and despite their attempted restraint, it could sometimes get ugly.

    Blunt teeth clenched together, the light bay colt flicks his eyes back to Ryan, all anger forgotten as his maw drops open, amber eyes taking in the sight of the small panther before them. "Whoa," he whispers quietly, eyes wide open, "I'd like to be able to do that." He wishes he could do anything to make himself unrecognizable to Him and Shalla, but Amet keeps that tidbit to himself.

    Dropping back slightly, he lets Ryan and Iset control the conversation, content simply to watch with a tight jaw. His heart is heavy with sympathy for the other colt, who would soon be parent-less, but there's a silent light of hopefulness within him that his younger sister and the purple-pointed boy would be fast friends. Iset chooses to open up about their past, as well, and while Amet doesn't stop her, he can't help but to shift uncomfortably. It had been difficult enough to even acknowledge their circumstances between the three siblings, let alone someone who had not seen it firsthand, but the lanky two-year-old silently reminds himself that this is their new beginning - they might as well share their past, if they ever hope to move beyond it.

    When the filly finishes her story and officially invites Ryan to stay, Amet almost hopes that she has cooled down from her jabs at him. That, however, is obviously not the case, as she sends another scathing look in his direction before disappearing into the cherry trees. Amet frowns but swiftly turns his attention back to Ryan, offering him a sheepish shrug. "I'm sorry about that. Truly, though, we would love for you to stay here with us. I think that you and Iset will get along well." There he goes, making assumptions for his sister again.

    "Feel free to explore, and don't hesitate to come hang out with either of us," Amet offers warmly, before moving closer to the Lake, lost in his thoughts.

    Amet




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