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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


    you're a fireracker, aren't you sparky? noct, nayl, any.
    #1
    taren
    you're a real firecracker, aren't you sparky?
    There was nothing more confusing than the short life Taren has lived thus far. Being shot out of a magical cannon that exploded like jizz on a beach was not a way a child begins a normal life. And for a child with such an experimental temper as Taren, he eventually crawled around with his mother off the Beach and into the inner portions of this place that his father had called Be—Qua—Anna. Odd place. But thank the good fucking Lord, because he was tired of shaking sand out of his rather sensitive little boy parts.
     
    It was irritating him, dammit.
     
    They followed the coastline north, through the plains, sampling and tasting of the different vegetations that were about—not Taren, naturally, he wants only his Milkies—and flashes of memory and images came before him. Ashley’s memories and scents assailed his senses, and immediately a familiar scent hit his nostrils. He knows where he is.
     
    He thinks.
     
     “Something smells strange. I’ve been here before,” he thinks aloud, shaking his shocked yellow tail behind him.
     
    He is not used to being so short… and being so limited in power—though powerful he was in his own right—what used to be Ashley is now just a hot-headed little boy with a loud mouth on him. And he has stuck himself to his mother like glue. And he doesn’t like it one bit. This should be easy he says to himself. It’s always easier than this. It has been before.
     
    And yet, the times are so radically changed.
     
    A king with a teet in his mouth, whether he likes it or not.
     
    “Fuck it I KNOW I have seen these plants before,” he says even louder, not caring in the least that that kind of language may not have been appropriate for a young child to spout off. All the experience in the world cannot stop a child from being simply what he is.
     
    Taren hides in Nocturnal’s shadow as they come up on the coastline again, and he sees more water. He shudders, his ears going back. He does NOT want sand up his ass again. Too itchy.
     
    “Mother, have you gotten us lost again? We just LEFT the Beach.”
     
    And then a tummy rumble. Such a big badass, in a tiny little fuzzy body. Taren looks up at his mother, striking yellow eyes looking at her innocently, coyly.
     
    “Also, I’m hungry. Milkies?”
     
    So undignified. But at least the 24 hour buffet is good.
     
    #2
    taren
    you're a real firecracker, aren't you sparky?
    What the fuck do we do now?

    Hell if he knew. He was man. He was a man who was currently preoccupied with something else entirely. No one got in the way of him and his milkies. And while he suckled, he hated every minute of it. This is so demeaning. This is so demoralizing. This is so goddamned good.

    And when Taren had a full belly again, he pulled away from Mother and looked down at the beach, and looked up at her with shock yellow eyes and a quizzical brow that was just sassy enough to be considered disrespectful to his elders. Taren didn't care what it was. He was a man, dammit!

    "Did Ashley tell you nothing? This isn't Beqanna. At least, not the old one. If you say we are not where we were, and yet there is still...ugh...Sand..." He shudders, thinking once again of his little boy parts. He doesn't want sand in his junk. Can I get an Amen? "...then this is Nerine. Ashley's never been here, but he's spent time with the Queen a few times. Apparently he thinks she's a real piece of work..." And so Taren continues to mouth off about what he thinks he knows about Nerine and its resident queen, Nayl, based on very little experience and very little knowledge. What knowledge he does have is stolen--at best--and like a little boy, he mouths off to show off his skills.

    Like a little boy should not do.

    I'm A MAN, DAMMIT!

    #3
    you give me something to think about that's not the shit in my head.
    Endless stretches of sand. He kicks at it with irritation, finding his good mood waning. After deciding to leave the Beach he had found a pretty little thing that had stolen his attention for a few hours (for some things will never change). Not like Nocturnal would care where he went anyways since she had somehow managed to get herself knocked up in the dark place they had escaped from. Already that memory is becoming foggy and unclear. He can’t help but look at the boy suspiciously, not quite understanding where and how he had appeared. Him and his stupid milkies. He felt quite protective of Nocturnal as she was literally the only person he knows in this world and he was unwilling to let them go anywhere without him. However, Cross needed his own “milkies” and the pretty little mare they had found along the way had been quite willing and able. Once satiated, he caught up with the small group for they hadn’t gone far. Still on the coastline, looking out amongst heavy cliffs and waves.  

    He’s become more confused as time passes and he has time to think. Why did the old man think he fucked his mother? Why did Nocturnal look at him with a somewhat concerned look. It seems to deepen every time he doesn’t recognize where they are so he glowers back at her. He’s a young strapping man and doesn’t need to be coddled. However now even she seems lost and he comes to stand at her side, looking into the horizon. It’s the boy that , somehow, knows exactly where they are. ”Who the fuck is Beqanna?” He mutters, annoyed again with his lack of knowledge. Being out shined again by a god damn newborn.

    Taren continues talking, actually it’s more rambling, and he tunes the colt out. Snorting with disdain, shaking his head lightly as he turns his ruby iris’s to his female counterpart. ”What do you want to do?” He asks her quietly. Did she want to stay or go? It was up to her, wherever she went he would follow.
    no crosses count
    the reborn
    #4
    I am not afraid... I was born to do this.
    Nayl has her lips pressed idly against Isobell’s poll when one of her darling creations flutters to her shoulder. With residual feathers that littered the beach, she concocted her own small bird that roamed the sky searching for foreigners so she did not have to exhaust herself at the borders. Most days, Nayl enjoys stalking the shoreline with her daughter shadowing her, teaching her of the other lands and everything else she has learned in this new Beqanna. They are a beautiful sight, really, but their eyes both blaze with an inner fire that can never truly be tamed. Although close, they often mirror each other’s sass with similar retaliations punctuated by small bouts of laughter.

    The bundle of feathers settles on Nayl’s withers, hopping and turning its head in the direction of the strangers. With a sigh, she glances down to her daughter. ”You stay here. Last I need is someone deciding to hold you hostage or use you against me,” a feeble grin treads lightly across Nayl’s lips before she turns and slips away.

    From afar, she follows them. They travel aimlessly along the shoreline with their eyes darting curiously in every direction. She is a lioness, cloaked by the tall grass and the trees, sidling along hills and dunes until they’ve drawn to a complete stop. Three of them. Mother, child, and stallion. Nayl hardly hesitates, moving towards them with whispered footsteps and an ignited stare. ”You can begin by introducing yourselves,” she answers in an almost languid drawl, measuring them with suppressed curiosity, ”and telling me why you’re here.” She isn’t malicious although she also isn’t amicable. Bypassing small talk and pleasantries, Nayl immediately funnels their conversation to what ideally matters most.

    queen of nerine
    daughter of covet & myrina
    #5
    show them the joy and the pain and the ending

    Now here is something very, very interesting. Something even she has not seen before. And if she has not seen it, it must be something worth taking a look at.

    To be honest, she hadn’t been paying too much attention until they crossed over into Nerine. No, she had been far more concerned with a certain child of hers and his unfortunate antics. But when this had drawn her attention, her eye had been completely caught. There is a story here, and a good one. She can see much of it, but even her sight can only reach so far. There is so much more there than what small bits and pieces she is getting.

    There is little in this world that could stop her from discovering just what on her own.

    Nayl is there, of course. There is little in Nerine that misses the queen’s attention (little that misses even her own attention, though she is far more discerning in just what she responds to. She is not queen after all, and those social niceties do not fall to her). This situation however, is different. Unique. Intriguing. Indeed, she likely would not be here otherwise.

    The pale sands cushion her steps, her dark hooves digging into the damp beach as she makes her way towards the small group gathered along the shoreline. They had made quite the trek from the beach to their outlying kingdom, and she is curious to see what had drawn them in this direction. She would be fascinated to know of Nocturnal’s stint in the Desert, but alas, death is a divide even her sight cannot conquer. A block to her vision that both intrigues and stymies her.

    Slipping alongside the black and white painted mare, she fixes a curious gaze first on the stallion, then the mare, and finally the young colt. Perhaps the most puzzling of them all. Finally, she greets them simply with, “You are a long way from home.”

    i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts
    #6
    you give me something to think about that's not the shit in my head.
    The dark bay easily takes Noct’s weight against his own as she succumbs to her own personal weariness. Red eyes smolder with a flicker of concern but he says nothing and simply supports her. That’s what he was there for, to hold her up when times were rough. She would never have to go through anything alone as long as they were together. Funny what a century in the afterlife and a narrow escape from purgatory can do for a new friendship.

    An ear swivels towards the sound of hooves sucking against sand before he turns his head to see who was coming. Why, hello... What have we here? A mare the color of soot and snow followed quickly by another of blue. His companion has moved protectively in front of the colt (as if the little shit needed protection) which leaves him free to step forward and give them a rather appreciative look. ”A sight for sore eyes I must say…” Casting Noct an almost apologetic smile that turns flirtatious as he turns back to them. While he may not fully remember where they had come from or even where they are, he certainly knows it’s been awhile since he’s been in the company of this many females. Can’t waste the opportunity.

    ”I’m No Crosses Count. This is Nocturnal and her… son.” It was still a sore point since the kid literally appeared out of nowhere and he wasn’t sure if he had some weird role in it. Of course the girls start chit chatting and he sighs, exasperated. Something about deserts, being far from home. Honestly he has no idea what the hell anyone is talking about, nobody seems to want to fill him in. He can’t remember ever having a home (although that can’t be right says the nagging voice in the back of his head) and now Noct’s giving him those sad eyes again, the one’s she always gives when he seems to have said something wrong. ”Well… Might as well stay here if we can until we figure it out.” He pauses, his scarred body shifting slightly as he looks across the coast. ”But if someone could tell me where the hell we are that might be a start.” His frustration evident in the bite of his tone.
    no crosses count
    i want to do it again
    #7
    I am not afraid... I was born to do this.
    Heartfire arrives shortly after, a presence that Nayl has become well-accustomed to. A glimmer of a smile almost creases her mouth, but it’s fleeting. Her attention cannot help but drift back to the trio who stand with curious eyes and somewhat defensive stances. When Nayl breathes them in, they’re foreign. Their bodies have been soaked by the sea and dried by the salty wind. What happened, she isn’t quite sure, but she notes a semblance in Buckthorn’s arrival. ”The sea seems to be spitting out horses left and right,” she mutters in light humor to her tribal sister, her gaze refusing to waver from the small group. They’ve enraptured her, holding her attention as they shuffle in the sand and drink in this new world.

    ”The Deserts,” the Queen thinks aloud, reflecting back to what Beqanna had once been. A pang in her heart rattles her when she remembers the dense Jungle and the sisterhood that lied within. She recalls seeing her grandmother’s grave nestled into the very heart of the kingdom, overgrown with vines. There had been so many alluring things, so much history, that it had been painful to see it all crash down with their world’s rebirth. ”The original kingdoms are no more – the Deserts, Chamber, Jungle, and so on – and so new kingdoms have taken their place. It’s a new Beqanna.” The pain of loss is still there, trickling through her veins. Seeing the world crash down and eat itself had been horrifying. Watching as a mountain erected itself was unnerving. Having their powers stripped away was aggravating.

    It was a grueling process to reestablish homes and even oneself, but Nayl grew into herself because of this.
    Perhaps Beqanna’s rebirth was a blessing in disguise.

    ”I’m Nayl,” she finally offers when the stallion introduces himself and the mare. The child, however, remains nameless. A haphazard glance finds the boy, but she says nothing to him as her body shifts underneath the bright, coastal sunlight. ”You’re in Nerine,” the name is silk on her tongue, her autumn eyes leveling on Cross’. ”It’s pretty much the new Jungle. A matriarchal society.” A powerful kingdom, an alluring home. While she hated it at first – it wasn’t her Jungle – Nayl has certainly come to accept it, to love it, to treasure it.


    queen of nerine
    daughter of covet & myrina
    #8
    show them the joy and the pain and the ending

    A faint glint of humor lights her gaze at Nayl’s aside to her, at the truth of those words. It seems Nerine has been placed in the position of accepting many horses, new and old, spit out by the sea. It’s curious though, that she cannot see much beyond that. That the pair of horses crawling onto the bloodstained sands of the beach are as far back as her unique sight leads her. Very curious indeed.

    Nothing before has severed her sight in such a way, a fact which had been the initial impetus for her approach.

    But her interest is further piqued by the roan mare’s mention of the Desert. She had been born to the Deserts, so there is a particular connection there that is hard to deny. But that they do not know of Beqanna’s fall, of her reshaping, combined with their curious lack of history that she can divine, leads her to only one conclusion. They are not of this world. More specifically, it seems they had risen from death, from the underworld.

    Of course, without asking directly, she could have no way of knowing for certain, but she has never been given to self doubt.

    She does not bother to interject as the conversation continues, as Nayl provides the answers they seek before introducing herself - introducing the land they have inadvertently entered. Finally, when a brief pause settles over the group, she inserts herself neatly into the exchange once more. “You certainly have stumbled into what I’m sure seems a strange new world.” Glancing between the stallion and mare, she quirks her brow in a rather questioning manner. “A few history lessons would not go amiss, I think. Don’t you agree?”

    The mild, offhand offer is anything but benevolent, though that is something they would no doubt learn in time. Especially if they elected to take her up on it.

    i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts




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