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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


    Simple lies, strange eyes [Sinner, Any]
    #1

    when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:

    It was time.

    Patience is a fortitude Wyrm has grown from living under the spell of immortality. He’d slept for years, buried by rot and dreck, woken when Heartfire had come back, and now it was time to branch out again. Continuing towards something, always stretching those fingers outward in eternal chase of a light he has yet to grasp. Immortality had come and gone and it had given him youth, for a spell, but now the process of death hounds him once more and the shifter finds he cannot wait any longer, for fear that an old haunt will return any day.

    The rumors had been growing. The wolf hunts once more, they said, bringing with it a terrible flame that no enemy could yet extinguish. The green stallion knew all too well which flame they’d whispered of. He’d seen it, but never felt its wrath. Pale blue, white near the center, and hungry, always hungry for more. A stolen power, ripped from the chest of another, and wielded by a creature who’d taught him everything he’d come to perfect over the years. Time, revenge with it, was marching on, and Wyrm would not catch himself unprepared.

    Nor would Longclaw, who traveled beside him on legs that grew stronger and taller every day. His son’s unique coat has shed its baby fluff, revealing an iridescent hue that changed with every step he took. His sister, Rapture, was safe with their dam but this one - the colt, the younger of the two and the less powerful of the twins, was in dire need of training. There was a softness to them both that even Wyrm had not foreseen (and though, secretly, the shifter did not mind it, for what father can find fault in their own get?) that needed hammering out. That began today.

    The border doesn’t hinder them, only changes from life to ashy, grey death as the two ingress further. Wyrm had followed the horned one here, found that it suited his needs quite well, and was determined to finally see something through until the end. Besides, who could stop him? “We’re here. Rest.” He commands the boy, slowing to a stop himself to have a look around with eyes that shift to slit pupils. Longclaw was winded, no doubt aching from the journey, but the days of pity were over.

    “Someone will come for us soon enough.”

    did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?



    @[Sinner]
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    #2
    DESPAYR
    At Night she Walks the Beaches...
    It wasn't much to look at, these dead lands, but it was considered home.  Kept here maybe only for her brothers entertainment.  The mouse forever to his game he loved so much.  Ah whatever, what else would she do with her life...

    He had left her to her own vices today so she wandered.  There wasn't much to do or see so wandering or training was about it.  Her own son summoned to train in the ways of Pangea was fast approaching.  Lazily she looked about not expecting to see much.  But then no one expects to see much here.  Especially green... Her two toned eyes narrow upon the sight headed her direction.  She stops to watch as a pair of brightly colored equines come into the lands.  Her ears pressed against her skull as she question who they were and what they were doing here...

    She lunged forward, ears pinned and head low.  Chest heaved with each deep breath as hooves pounded the earth upon each contact.  Pangea ash rose from behind her creating a cloud of dust.  Nearing quickly (as they had stopped) her hind quarter buckled under her not far from where they rested.  Nares flared as a deep exhale fluttered a snort of warning.  She approached boldly, eyes on the stallion.  Taking note of the child at his side.  Similar in age to her own.  She spoke with confidence, "Can I help you with something?"  Her tone a bit harsh but she wasn't one to be sweet.  In fact she may be the least harsh in the wastelands so if they can't take her then they best high tail it to Tephra..
    artsfon stock photos
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    #3

    go to hell for heaven's sake

    Pangea—beautiful and broken in its very own way to all. For him, this place was simply a place to harbor his needs. It was a home, as his parents had called it, and somewhere he was meant to stay. Yet, he simply never stayed put for long. The world outside of this wasteland called to him, and so did the call of the night and hunger that sat in the pit of his belly.

    Sinner wonders for no reason, simply bored and finding anything to do. The border is specifically where he is at, and even the scent of others draws his attention. It is a mix of new and familiarity. Sinner is curious, naturally, but truthfully he likes to make sure he is aware of everything and anything. He doesn’t like to be left out one bit—an opportunity is what he is always looking for.

    He approaches the small group. A mare, stallion, and a foal. They could easily appear to be family, but the scent of the mare (someone who he has never met) tells him that she’s from this place. And then there is the foal, Longclaw, whom he knows not by name but from the Playground.

    “I know you,” he says to the foal first and simply doesn’t care for introductions. Sinner is naturally rude and has no manners to others. He follows his own rules and moral code that likely is constantly changing as he pleases.

    And then he turns to the other two. “Who are you?” He asks without the intent so far to introduce himself. Sinner is simply himself, outwardly blunt and straight to the point.

    S
    inner

    @[Wyrm] @[Despayr]
    Profile | Detailed Bio | Character Reference
    Most likely always in his hellhound form
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