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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


    searching for myself [Brennen, any]
    #1
    On this night, a half-moon bathes Beqanna in a soft light. A warm breeze rustles through the foliage adding to the music of a summer's eve. In a remote corner of the nation’s Forest, a young stallion rests within the shelter of a cave. His underside lies against the clay floor while sturdy, yet refined, limbs fold at the knee and hock to draw close to his barrel. A sliver of lunar light slips through the mouth of the den and, creates a shimmering beam that lands mere steps away from the slumbering bronc. Although this light does not touch his obsidian pelt, it does highlight Jesper’s topline with a metallic blue hue.

    Jesper sought this particular cave a year or so ago when all of Beqanna seemed to be at each other’s throats. He was much too young to understand what was going on, as he barely knew who he was. In his naïve mind, Jesper thought he could find himself if he took some time for himself. Instead, he found himself alone and, more lost than he could ever remember feeling. He could not help but wish that something might give him a push in the right direction. Just outside the cave, the evergreen boughs flex gently once more as the light wind brushes against them. The soft wind carries a whisper upon it; a voice that Jesper found vaguely familiar.
    “Jesper, sweetheart, you cannot do this alone.” The voice is feminine but raspy. The tone is tender and, heartwarming and, still yet, is icy. “Jesper, I know I was not there. I know I left you all alone. Please, trust me now.” The voice fades as though absorbed by an invisible membrane.  He could still hear it from behind the barrier, though, it was muffled and muted.

    On his hooves now, a pearl-toned unshod extends to support ivory anklet as he takes a step. Charcoal-toned hooves shuffle forwards to follow suit in stride until whiskered muzzle detects a liquid-like film ahead. The sensation is that of a warm mist yet, it does not leave behind any moisture. Jesper proceeds forward slowly, with hesitation. Soon, his tufted lobes detect the ghostly voice with clarity once again. “Follow my lead. Seek Brennen.”  All at once, he recognizes the voice. He had only heard it once, a long, long time ago: mom.

    Eyelids flutter as orbs adjust to the new scene. Ebony-hued pelt reflects the warm glow of the morning star’s first rays. Standing upon quad pillars, Jesper allows powder blue orbs to take in the lush scene before him. He hardly recognizes this place and, dares not proceed without more information or, permission. Barefoot hooves sink into one of Ischia’s balmy shores as limbs shift anxiously beneath steed. Finally, Jesper decides to put a little faith into what he just experienced. Noble poll lifts tapered snout until dotted forehead is parallel with the celestial dome above. Mandible parts from maxilla to permit a bugle to trumpet from vocal chords, summoning the one named Brennen.
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    #2
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
    He's an early riser; sunrise brings a great time to fly high above the Kingdom, a careful watch kept on the land below, catching the uplifting breezes with exhilaration in his heart. By the time the sun has truly risen above Ischia, Brennen has returned to the ground and is standing amongst the first trees, looking out over the shoreline. Home. It's strange how that definition changes over the years. It hasn't taken him so many years to be able to say "home" with any conviction in the new world; now he can call this place home with no hesitation even though his heart skips a beat every time he says it. Because saying it out loud acknowledges all he has lost; the people and the places.

    When the call rings out; his own name, Brennen snaps his head astound and blinks, muscles tensing, at the appearance of the young stallion standing on his beach calling his name; the young man who hadn't been there the last time he scanned the horizon, nor was he in the air or the water in approach. Despite his unease over the situation, his immediate suspicion over children who appear magically on his shores calling his name, he is loose and fluid as he approaches. If there is a threat (a teleporting one, perhaps?), he needs to be limber and ready. In concession to possible innocence of the visitor, the bay stallion doesn't unfurl his overlarge wings, instead keeping them tucked close to his side as he walks over, quiet. Even his hooves make barely a sound in the sand.

    "I'm Brennen," he drawls when he is close enough, starting to flash his little half-smile - it doesn't reach even it's small potential. He stops when their eyes meet, going quite still again. Brennen inhales deeply, giving a distinct tilt of his dished head as he considers this puzzle in his head. It's faint, diluted by time and distance, but he can smell family on the kid and while he would usually be simply happy with that, there's something else. It's in his eyes - those distinct blue eyes. Neraza's eyes, looking back at him out of yet another face. His Neraza had six children. Four golden foals with her Edmond and two with Brennen that had her eyes. Their son has only one child, already in Brennen's scope, and he is 99% sure that she has no children of her own (and he doesn't like to think about babies having babies anyway!)...which leaves Bethanie.

    Thawing as he figures out the answer to the puzzle, Brennen trades his polite and distant professional half-smile for a slow-blooming real smile that warms his amber eyes. Once, he had dreamed of his and the Falls Queen's children being the start of a dynasty. It hadn't happened for so many reasons, good and bad reasons, and he has always thought they would never even have a legacy, because he had always believed both of their children had died childless. Then Sorenson had sired a child from beyond the grave and Beth - he doesn't know what this is. This boy is too young to be Beth's child but he looks right, and he smells right.

    It feels right.

    "Hello,"
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
    BRENNEN


    I typed this on my iPad and I suck at it so sorry for typos and shit :/
    Reply
    #3
    The obsidian painted colt could not help but feel a wave of anxiety lap at his heart. This portion of Beqanna is very different from where he set up camp. While the cave is hardly a permanent residence, its stone facade and secretly recessed walls made the perfect refuge. He had grown quite fond of it.

    The cerulean waters roll gently over the alabaster sands, effortlessly rocking back and forth and stretching to just behind Jesper's rear hooves on the shore. Now casting down upon the young stallion's spine, Jesper can feel the daystar increasing in strength. From the lush thicket ahead of him, obsidian bronc senses a shift in the atmosphere. As if he is not already anxious. Heart thuds a little heavier, a little faster as anticipation build. Furry antennae swivel frantically searching for any clue as to what lurks on the other side. Salmon-lined nares widen in an effort to filter all of the aromas as his first clue. Suddenly, aquamarine irises befall the silent stalker who emerges from the bush.

    Jesper's gaze locks upon the stranger while heart rate pulses even faster. The rest of the cobalt steed freezes with uncertainty and disbelief. A puff of warm air exhales in relief as mahogany titan introduces himself. To the same degree, Jesper feels even more befuddled by the sequence of events this morning. Focus diverts from mulling over his confusion to the noble gent that stood before him now. He is well-muscled and, carries himself with such confidence. Sensing that there is no imminent threat to himself, young steed allows a sigh to escape him. Glossy orbs and pointed lobes remain stuck on Brennen while the remainder of chassis softens. 

    Collecting himself, Jesper finds his voice, so immature in comparison to the male standing in front of him. "Jesper. My name is Jesper." Obsidian youth shifts weight between quad pillars before left hock extends and permits char unshod to tip onto its toe. Raven tendrils of hock-kisser flick lightly across side as Jesper becomes aware, yet again, of the sweltering heat which emanates from the sun. Jesper attempts to organize his thoughts for a moment or, two, as he senses that it is him that should speak next. After all, he did summon the other. He voices the first thing that comes to mind, "Where are we?" Even though Jesper remains unfamiliar with present Beqanna, Jesper could not help but feel as though his current position on the map as significant. He allows for the mature stallion to answer his question before Jesper emits more. Whether warranted or not, he could not help but feel like he should justify his presence. "I am not sure how I got here." He uses here literally and does, in fact, mean his geographical location. "I was sleeping. In my slumber, a voice reaches out to me and, offers to guide me so, I follow it." Jesper leaves off anything more as he did not really know how to put it into words. 


    It read and sounds great! I hope mine sounds all right...
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    #4
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
    Brennen knows that he is not supposed to have favorites amongst his descendants. The patriarch is supposed to love all of his brood alike; from his many children to his great-great-however many greats-grandchildren; but that just isn’t the case. He loves all of them, but he does not bond with all of them equally; it is hard to love capricious, mischievous Kellyn as much as he loves her daughter Carwyn who is just like Brennen, for instance. And he has so many girls in his family – daughters and granddaughters and so on and so forth, and he admires these strong women and the women who carried them into the world but boys

    As a former Tundra man, the consummate bachelor of the bachelor Kingdom, Brennen cherishes his male descendants with a special fervor, a special corner of his heart that once wanted sons to bring home to his Tundra so badly. His daughters had no place, no future in the Tundra. The sons and grandsons could have followed in his footsteps, loved the Kingdom he loved. Even though the Tundra is no more and there is no bachelor Kingdom in the new world, he is old and some parts of his psyche will never change. If this is a child of his line (and he is quite sure he is), and he can have him in his life, he will do almost anything to preserve that.

    The bay stallion is silent, observing the boy, until the dark child speaks. Then he shifts, head tilting, and answers the question in his easy drawl. “We’re in Ischia,” he answers, having no idea that the new Kingdoms might not mean anything to Jesper. A black-tipped ear flicks forward to catch the rest of the boy’s confused rumble, and though he is intrigued, he’s not particularly fazed. Beqanna does the weirdest things, the strangest things happen here; even boys who might have come out of dreams. Perhaps a few guided questions might make it clearer, for Brennen if not for Jesper. “Where were you before?” Brennen starts with, and then; “Whose voice did you hear?”
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
    BRENNEN


    your posts are lovely <3
    Reply
    #5
    Despite the sensation of baking beneath the tropical sun, muscular tissue quivers as if chilled; quivers in anticipation. Azure orbs study Brennen's form and, expression, in hopes of learning how to read one's subconscious betrayal of emotion. Fortunately for Brennen, Jesper had no clue what he is looking for and, unfortunately for Jesper, Brennen was far too socially experienced to betray his subconscious. Obviously, such a combination would lead the amateur steed nowhere. So, Jesper inhales a single, deep breath before ribs contract to push warm puff out of his body with a soft sigh. Fuzzy acoustics lock upon black-tipped mahogany stallion as icy blue gaze follows his every move.

    Obsidian bronc hangs on male's every word as his smooth tone emits through the island's increasing haze. Ischia. Jesper repeats the word multiple times, rolling it around in his mouth and, his mind. He did so as though the island had been introduced to him before and, rolling it over and over would stir up and loosen the memory. He had not heard it before so, there was no affiliation to jog loose; however, the taste left behind is a warm, pleasant one. Jesper tunes in as soon as Brennen's voice breaks the silence a second time. Jesper cannot help but sense that Brennen's questions imply he is well-versed in the language of Beqanna.

    Raven-pelted steed inhales and, exhales, once to collect himself before thick-lashed eyelids close with first words. Jesper begins, "I found shelter in the Forest. I had settled into this isolated cave for the night. I was curled up on the floor and, fell asleep. The next details seem a blur." Jesper pauses in an attempt to remember where reality ends and, imagination begins. Jesper proceeds with, "My dream seemed to pick up right where I was. I was sleeping on the floor of this cave. The moonlight beamed into the cave. Then, in my dream, I am awoken by a voice." Again, Jesper falls quiet and slips into his own thoughts as he allows the memory to envelop him all over again. That voice. Her voice. "I think the voice was her voice; Bethanie's voice; mom's voice." He had never said this out-loud so, hearing the words come from his own maw, stun Jesper into a brief silence. Inevitably, a mix of emotions wash over jet-black youth.

    He continues; however, speech now reflects a somber tone. "She urged me to trust her... to follow her. She almost seemed to apologize. The next thing I know, I am on my feet and, following her voice. Her voice is drifting away so, I pursue it. I walk right through the beam of moonlight after her. Next thing I know, I am awake and, standing here on the sands of Ischia." Jesper can only hope that this makes some sense to Brennen. Not that he was looking for an explanation of his dream. No, he wanted to know something more specific. "Why would she direct me here? To Ischia? To you, Brennen?"

    aww, thank you, devin! I love reading yours as well <3
    Reply
    #6
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
    The great warrior settles into a comfortable stance as he listen’s to the boy’s story, seemingly at complete ease. He has practiced this, the ability to project an air of focus and attention on his subject even while he is continuously in tune with his island for any sense of danger or threat. And it’s not that much of an act while he listens to Jesper detail his dreams; up until the voice. When Jesper names his mother, it takes all of Brennen’s self-control to hide his reaction, not to interrupt the boy’s recitation with his own surge of emotions.

    Because Bethanie was one of those special children that had always been one his favorites. Perhaps she had been raised in the Falls by her mother, should have been a peaceful soul like Neraza, but she had been as fierce as her sire. She might even have bested him, given enough time to practice; if her life hadn’t been mortal and then cut brutally short on top of that. And time might dull the grief, and perhaps having a suspicion should have prepared him, but for a moment he is swept away by memories of a chestnut-and-white mare with bright blue eyes. But he fights it down, leaving only a fleeting whisper of his ageless grief in his eyes before he remembers the boy is waiting on an answer.

    “You have your mother’s eyes,” he says first, smiling down at Jesper with a real, whole smile. Not the half-smile he keeps handy for general use, but something deep and sincere. “And your grandmother’s eyes. I did love those eyes,” he chuckles, hoping a little bit of levity now will bring their boat safely to harbor through the rocky seas he is about to sail them through. “I’m your grandfather, Jesper. Your mother sent you to me because for whatever reason, you are out of your time. I’m afraid that your mother and grandmother are dead. I don’t die, so I am still around, and my daughter would have known I’d be happy to see you and help you adjust to the new world.”
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
    BRENNEN
    Reply
    #7
    Obsidian colt feels the burden of his secret past dissipate into the quietness, though a flutter of anxiety touches his heart. Jesper is ignorant of the meaning of his words – their significance – but, at least he is aware that he is ignorant. He would very much like to be educated. He can only hope that Brennen would be able to shed some light on all of it - or, most of it. Heck, just understanding any of it would be nice.

    Tufted listeners detect the end of the silence and, hone in on the mahogany steed’s words. My mother’s eyes? My grandmother’s eyes? He knew those eyes? Ceil blue gaze notes Brennen’s genuine and, large smile while acoustics catch his light laugh. The next few words struck the boy into a state of shock. Cardiac sinew tightens, air sacs expand with a huge inhale and, every single joint locks in place. My grandfather.

    Moments later, Jesper feels the daystar, now at its peak in the heavenly dome, melting through the stiffness that had overcome his chassis. A warm breath exhales from salmon-rimmed nares as young male begins to relax once more. He absorbs the remainder of his grandsire’s words and, takes his time to process and digest. Nostrils flutter to signal that the boy is not so lost in thought that he had forgotten to breathe. Soon, Jesper compartmentalizes his thoughts and, begins to search for the right words. The realization that Brennen had been present for generations spurs Jesper’s first sentence. Swallowing, ice-blue gaze meets noble steed’s golden orbs before edgy voice emits from parted maw. “I am… honored.” Ink-painted equine reminds himself to breathe and, collect himself. “I would be honored to shadow you and learn everything you can teach me. I would very much like to find my purpose in this world.” Gaze softens, almost pleading-like, in an effort to persuade Brennen, should his grandfather feel he is not up to this challenge.

    The tension that overcame Jesper earlier is gone. Now, his heart rate pulses with the anticipation of being this close to making something of himself. His pointed lobes act independently; one focuses on the muscular stallion accompanying him and, the other, casually swivels atop poll to filter through the crackle of the humid, autumn day.

    @[Brennen]
    OOC- So many feels in Brennen's reply <3
    Reply
    #8
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
    It is moments like these that make the long life worth living. When he is lonely, adrift, sometimes he curses the ‘gift’ of immortality and the many years of unnatural life he has been given. In those times he wonders whether it would have been better, to die alongside Jesper’s grandmother and his other true age-mates so long ago. He would still have left his descendants a legacy of his fighting skill, but he would not have been here to watch them all grow old and die around him. But…he also would not have been there to raise any number of his children and grandchildren, to protect Kings and Queens, to stand before Jesper and know that no matter what tricks Beqanna has played in time, his grandson is not alone.

    Which is better?

    He supposes it doesn’t matter, because he only has the one choice. He is immortal, and nearly indestructible with it, and so he is here when they need him. “You don’t have to be honored,” he says, quirking another smile, “That’s what family is for.” He doesn’t say anything right away about more family – he supposes it might be a lot, the family tree, and he should have plenty of time to introduce parts of them to Jesper gradually. Probably there are no familiar faces anymore, so they will all be new anyway, and they can be a bit much. Sometimes, he still dreams of bringing them all together into one Kingdom, just to see how powerful they could all be together, his family.

    “Walk with me,” he invites the boy, setting off across the sand at a leisurely pace; he prefers to move. Flying, walking, running; but of course walking is the most conducive to continued conversation. “What do you think you’d like to excel at?” he asks curiously, honestly wondering about the answer. Of course he has the most to offer a grandson who would like to be a warrior, but with Neraza’s blood thrown in, it could just as easily go the other way. It would be harder for him to teach a diplomat, but he has exercised those mental muscles many times in the past as well. You don’t live as long as he has without being both a peacemaker and a warrior in turn.
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
    BRENNEN
    Reply
    #9
    Jesper could not help but feel honored. Here, the jet-black steed stands before a man who has been a witness to Beqanna’s chronicle. Jesper’s very own grandfather knew about the generations of residents who had blessed and, threatened this land. He knew the chronicles of Beqanna and, to Jesper, that vast amount of knowledge was invaluable. Poll shakes as obsidian male senses the air of their conversation grow more casual. A gentle sigh emits as mahogany stallion offers a slight smile. Light blue gaze notes Brennen’s shift in body posture before lobes intake and process other’s invitation.
     
    Leanly muscled haunches contract to push Jesper forward in a pace that matches that of the mature male. Refined, yet sturdy, limbs move easily across the shifting terrain as rigid hooves plant themselves steadily into the sand. Summit of cranium relaxes to wither height while the pair stroll along. All the while, tufted ears hone in on the conversation at hand. What do I think I would excel at? Jesper mulls Brennen’s question for a moment or, two. All he really could base his answer upon would be past experiences. With a decided exhale, Jesper finds his voice and, words part from vocal chords in a level, easy tony.
     
    “I consider myself agile and swift. While looking out for myself, I have learned to be resourceful and, bold. I think I would like to try becoming a soldier.” Coal-toned youth pauses briefly before realizing that he had something else to add. Poll lifts and stride becomes energized as voice emits in a higher pitch this time. “I do not want to be a mindless, brute strength, warrior. I want to be a guardian for a great cause. I want to participate in missions that demand cunning intellect and, fierce skills!” Jesper takes a breath after this (rather) exclamation before poll lowers and stride settles into easy movements once more.
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    #10
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
    The sun is rising in the sky, and accordingly, their tropical island is heating up, despite it being winter in most of Beqanna. Winter doesn’t really reach Ischia, as such. But he leads their easy amble towards the slight shelter offered by the shade of the towering trees, the breeze in the treetops offering a counterpoint for the curious noises of the parrots above them. They are often silent when a stranger enters the jungle, but they recognize Brennen and so they do not go silent and hide at Jesper’s presence. Some are braver than others, landing on branches just above their heads, and one small and especially curious creature perches with his talons tangled in Brennen’s mane to tilt his head consideringly at Jesper and chatter some birdlike nonsense.

    He has noticed that while some of the bigger birds are capable of speech and will both repeat what they hear as well as string together nonsense, these smaller birds generally only speak bird. But he does nothing to unseat his guest, just lets Jesper fill the silence with the answer to his question, though he can’t help but grin when the boy says he wants to be a warrior. He doesn’t rush it, sensing his grandson coming forth with more words, and he is rewarded shortly as the boy seems to grow and become stronger in voice and body as he continues on what kind of warrior he might like to be.

    “Well, then unless you have a personal mission you want to fulfill,” he offers, thinking of Hyaline while the little bird moves closer to his poll, grooming his dark mane as she goes, and he slows to allow her to keep her balance, “You will need to find a Kingdom here in the new world to serve. We’d be happy to have you here in Ischia, of course, but you might find a different Kingdom has a mission or a monarch you feel more drawn to. It is a very personal decision.” He thinks of Nerine; he had wanted to stay there amongst the familiar feel of the Amazons, but he hadn’t been able to make himself stay, make a home like he has made in Ischia. “Your next step might be to visit some of the other Kingdoms, get a feel for them. I don’t know much about most of their current affairs, though I do know that my Queen has allied Ischia with Hyaline, Loess, and Sylva.” There isn’t a great deal of confidence in his voice over those choices – he knows nothing of Loess and Sylva, and finds Hyaline’s complete deviance from their original purpose a bit unsettling.
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
    BRENNEN
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