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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


    and I'll shiver like I used to [wound + any]
    #1
    Winter was a relatively relaxing time for Raewen. There were no plows to be pulled, no carts full of produce, rarely a bit or a saddle. In years past her man had gone in to the town more often to be among his own kind during the colder months. He would layer her with blankets to protect her from the chill and she and the other horses would stand quietly in the snow outside the glowing building, their noses sending up puffs of steam as they listened to the sound of music and talk flow out to meet them. Lately the man stayed home more with his family during these darker days and only came out to see her to give her some hay, water and maybe a carrot or two. Some days she would be let out to run for a while but other days the snow was too thick on the ground. Sometimes a barn cat would join her in her stall for warmth, but otherwise she felt the weight of loneliness most in the wintertime. 

    She wakes to find herself on warm sand, nestled among large leafy green plants. Her body aches from the journey of the days before but the warmth around her eases the pain. She stands as quickly as she is able and takes in her surroundings - it had been all but dark when she had finally arrived the night before and exhaustion had quickly taken control. This land - Tephra, as Wound had called it, was completely foreign to her. She is unsure how she had been able to find the strength to swim to its shores from the mainland after her harrowing and unexplainable journey the day and night before except for a primal fear of being alone and unprotected in a strange land. Her pelt is no longer damp, but the salt and sand cling to her fur, burying the embedded sweet scent of hay that reminded her so much of home it hurt. What she wouldn't give for a good brushing... she is certain she looks a complete mess.

    Suddenly she realizes that she is alone. Dread washes over her as her breathing becomes as quiet as possible. Where had Wound gone? Had she led her here under false pretenses? The quiet lull of the waves washing up on the beach soothes her back to her senses after a few moments of panic. She doubts the kind creature she had met yesterday would have done anything so devious. Also, did she really expect the mare to watch over her as she slept? She was allowing her fear to make her childish. Still, she couldn't shake her fear as much as she wanted to. Mustering up whatever courage she can find, the roan steps out onto the open beach and looks around, the sand making her legs feel even more unsteady. No one is in sight. "Wound?" her voice is not nearly as loud as she was hoping it would be. 

    @[wound]
    #2
    '

    Wildling is proud of himself.
    Why? Because once again, he thinks he has slipped the tight noose of his parents’ ever-present gazes.

    He has managed to escape their little island in favor of the bigger more habitable one that the rest of the kingdom seems to populate. Here, he thinks he can pass mostly unnoticed and do as he pleases within reason so as to not attract further attention - especially from father or mother lest they discover he’s gone from their private paradise. The blue roan colt kept to the shoreline, practicing his unique talent for shattering things with nothing more than a focused thought. So far he only shattered shells and coconuts though if another crab scuttled closer to him… he’d turn his attentions to something alive for once.

    Wildling paused in his wayward jaunt to scowl at one such crustacean that happened to be menacing towards him with a claw upraised and snapping. His amethyst purple tail snapped against his lanky flank in irritation as the sight of the crab drew a snort from his nostrils. “Halt!” he cried to the foul sea-beast that ignored him and continued to advance further into his path.

    Now, the blue roan colt could have just sidestepped the crab. Or stepped right on it and let that be that. But his green eyes seemed to brighten feverishly with sudden thought before narrowing in concentration, his long face screwed up in an expression that was much the same - stark full of concentration as his lanky but growing body began to shake just a little. Not from fear but from his attempt because it sapped his strength and energy and all of a sudden - -

    The tiniest of explosions occurred.
    Bits of crab-matter rained down on the sand and quite near to the colt’s hooves though he managed to back up a step to avoid getting any crabmeat on his fur.

    “Hmph!” was all he managed, rather pleased that he could indeed make live things shatter too. It just took a lot out of him and he seemed rather tired now until he caught scent of someone nearby. Uh oh! Had they just seen what he’d done to the crab? Well… no way they’d know it was him. Maybe exploding crabs were a common occurrence. A blue ear flicked the mare’s way as his green eyes slid to her, catching a very soft murmur.

    He didn’t understand at first that she was calling for his mother’s friend whom he’d heard about but had yet to meet. Femur hadn’t exactly gotten around to sharing off her little collection of foals to the rest of the kingdom. She liked to keep them all to herself on their private island, not that Wildling minded - he found ways to evade his mother all the time, so that it became a game of theirs. Femur knew what he was up to and she let him get away with it. Probably because he bore such a striking resemblance to his father that she couldn’t deny their son anything.

    What he thought the mare murmured was that she was wounded. She looked a sight, that’s for sure! But then anyone would after the long swim from the mainland to Tephra, he supposed. He had learned to wait until the tide was out like mother taught him then run across the tidal flats. It was much easier going that way. So he is cautious in his approach to her but calls out, “You okay?” still thinking that she was hurt somehow.

    i'll eat you up i love you so

    W I L D L I N G

    #3
    Their trip hadn’t been the smoothest. With each passing week, Wound feels herself slowing down. Her pregnancy isn’t necessarily difficult, but it does make it harder to travel between the island and the mainland when she is beginning to swell and there is more weight to push on her disfigured leg. By the time they had reached the shoreline, the tide was beginning to rise. Wound had probably pushed it, wary of the predators of the night beginning to curl around them and rushing to reach the comforting, warm shores of Tephra.

    The lost roan had found a spot for herself quickly and Wound had promised to linger nearby. She knew she was just taking this mare further from her home (but the scents that buried themselves among her strawberry hair were dusty with distance and thick with unfamiliarity) and so she wished to ease any concerns she might have. Rather than seeking out the comforts of her normal sleeping places, Wound found a place near the mare to rest her swollen frame until the morning.

    She wakes to the distance sound of Raewen’s voice. It sounds blurry at first, against the rustling of the foliage, but Wound eventually rises from her drowsiness and shakes the rest of the sleep away. By the time she locates the red roan, there is a dazzling blue colt cautiously approaching her newfound friend. Although the silver bay isn’t close to the child, she can instantly identify him as one of Longclaw’s children. The blue of his coloring and unmistakably handsome features stand out from a mile away.

    Wound begins to trot closer to the pair, her steps carrying an awkward limp to them considering her disfigured leg. She is breathing rather heavily by the time she reaches them, although the distance was minimal. “Raewen! I’m sorry to have frightened you, I was close by the entire night.” Despite her conscious, Wound extends her nose to lightly brush a comforting touch across the other mare’s shoulder (though she does leave time for the mare to react should she not desire the soothing touch). The silver bay then turns toward the colt.

    “Hello, my name is Wound. This is Raewen, she’s new to Tephra. How about you introduce yourself to her, yes?” Her words are gentle and inviting, already the teaching words of a mother. Although Wound has no intention of practicing her ideas of parenting on this colt, her natural tendencies toward motherly instincts play out perfectly in this situation regardless.
    #4
    Luck was a strange concept. One could argue that Raewen's lot in life thus far had been unlucky compared to the freedom that the horses of Beqanna enjoyed. Raewen, on the other hand, had felt extremely lucky to have such a caring man to watch out for her. She had felt entirely unlucky to become lost here. She was unsure of how she felt about meeting Wound and coming to Tephra, but in her case it was extremely lucky that she did not see the exploding crab. Such a sight would surely have sent the poor creature careening over the edge.

    The young colt's coloring was quite enough for her sensibilities. She had barely recovered from seeing Wound's deformed front leg and now she was expected to believe that there were horses of every color of the rainbow here as well? She felt faint at the sight of him. What more could this strange and unnatural land harbor? 

    And as luck would have it, she is saved from the awkwardness that would surely be her long pause as she contemplated these things she does not understand by Wound's reappearance. She allows herself to breathe easier at the sight of the mare, glad that she was not alone after all. Wound's words are reassuring, and her nonchalant treatment of the odd colt make Raewen look past the unusual colors for now. She does her best to acknowledge the boy with a polite nod and a smile before turning to Wound.

    "Thank you for all of your help." She says weakly. Perhaps it was the full night of sleep, or the relaxing of some of her tension, but she finally notices Wound's bulging sides and realizes what that must mean. Her heart sinks a little to know that her friend would be busy with more maternal issues for a while. She knows she can search for her home on her own, but she had begun to count on the mare's assistance. Was she right back at square one? She musters up her manners and smiles, even if the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't notice earlier - congratulations. Sorry for making you worry so much."

    @[wound] @[Wildling]
    #5
    Well this is rather unexpected!
    He’d not counted on a third horse to be so near to them let alone a limping silver bay mare that he’s certain he recognizes only because his mother would have pointed her out to him and made sure he knew who she was. She is clearly winded though and goes to the red roan mare first, making sure she is soothed and settled. There is something very maternal about the act that makes him look away, thinking of all the times his own mother had done that to his siblings and himself though neither of the mares bear much of a resemblance to each other to be mother and daughter or even sisters. He’s smart enough to notice that.

    By the time he looks back to both of them, the silver bay is introducing herself and the roan to him and inviting him to make an introduction back. She sounds entirely too cloying and sweet like his mother does when she expects him to act accordingly and his little ears flick back and forth. He’d much rather tuck tail and go back to practicing his shattering craft on more crabs but he cannot make his feet obey his brain. Mother instilled too much in him to let him bow out of something like this with a coward’s intent so he squares himself up and puffs out his little blue chest. “Nice to meet you both, I’m Wildling.”

    The red roan mare is looking at him in a manner he finds a little unnerving. Enough so to make him scoot that much closer to Wound who seems to have her wits about her. Eventually the red roan smiles at him and he assumes it has something to do with the reassuring presence of Wound who is a buffer between the two roans, although his coloration is a bit more extreme but he has no idea that is what has thrown Raewen off. Probably because he was born this way and his father was naturally an unnatural blue color so it never crossed his mind that others came to this land not quite used to that.

    The conversation has taken an altogether different turn to the point that congratulations are being offered and he cocks his head to the side, looking between the two until he notices that the silver bay’s sides definitely look a little thicker just like his mother’s have been getting. He realizes that explains the congratulations so he offers up his own meek mention of it, “Congratulations?” it came out more like an uncertain question than he’d intended it to be but Wildling was rather new to the ways of mares. New and not at all familiar with things like impending motherhood, and now he feels bad for thinking his mother was just getting fat!

    @[Raewen] @[wound] he's so awkward lol
    #6
    T
    hings that are normalicies in Beqanna (the ability to shatter crabs, the iridescent blue of the colt, wings sprouting from shoulders, the ability to live forever) can be shocking to newcomers. Wound has begun to realize that with each trip she makes into the Field — the nervous, fluttering glances of travelers as they see animals with dragon’s teeth and snake tails — and she notes that same expression on Raewen’s face now.

    Wound hopes the colt won’t feel too uncomfortable by that fact, but to her dismay he shuffles closer to her more-familiar side. She doesn’t fault him for it; as a youngster she would often hide between the bulk of her brothers’ legs when strangers would sneer and glare at her uniqueness. She wants to say something to the boy — who introduces himself as Wildling — but offers him a gentle smile instead.

    Raewen offers her congratulations (the first she has heard since her sides have swollen from the growth in her womb) and a brilliant smile dances across Wound’s face. She cannot deny her excitement at the prospect of a child curling between her legs and exploring Tephra’s island. Deep in her core, Wound has always held the characteristics of someone destined to love endlessly and want to share her adoration of life with everyone around her. It was only a matter of time before she would be able to do so.

    “Thank you, Raewen.” The colt beside them offers up a meek offering as well, and Wound wonders if he understands what might be happening. Her coffee eyes glance down at him, warmth on her lips. With the undeniable fact that Wildling is Longclaw’s son, Wound can only assume he considers Femur to be his mother — whether she is his blood-mother or not is a factor she isn’t sure of. Her conversation with Longclaw brings to mind the knowledge that Femur is also pregnant.

    “Wildling, your mother is also going to have a baby, right?” She gives time for the boy to answer before providing some details to Raewen, lest she feel left out of the conversation. “Wildling’s parents are Femur and Longclaw. His father’s the commander of Tephra; I’m sure you’ll run into him at some point.” Her thoughts flutter to the cerulean stallion briefly and another smile races across her mouth. “I’m sure you’re hungry… Would you like to see a bit more of the island and then I can show you some common grazing grounds?” She adds in a brief piece for Wildling as well, in case he might like to participate. “Wildling, you’re welcome to join as well. Maybe you could show Raewen some cool places you might have found in Tephra later.”
    credit to nat of adoxography.

    @[Raewen] @[Wildling]




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