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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


    just a girl taking too many chances [anyone]
    #1
    A heavy exhale is pushed forcefully from dark lips, as if the simple act would rid herself of all her problems.  And for the quickest second it does, giving her enough time to refocus on the primary reason for returning to the tropical island--to find some peace and clarity.  It was all too ironic then, that the place amidst Beqanna that had overcome her the truest sense of serenity just so happend to be in Ischia, the place that the person at the root of inner turmoil happened to call home.  She had tried and hopelessly failed to find that same type of surrounding in Nerine, and though she loved her home, it was simply not there.  From her viewpoint, the beauty of the waterfall that Brennen had shown her when she first ventured to Ischia was unmatched, and had struck the leopard mare with such blinding awe that it silenced all the rambling thoughts at first glance.  That was the feeling she so desperately craved.  

    The burning of her front limb makes her recall the journey to get where she rested now.  By the time she had made it to the land bridge, the water had already risen to blanket the path, but it lappeared as though it would still be possible to find some traction.  She had hesitated, but stubborness overrided all else and her mind was set--there was no going back when she was so close to what she desired.  Despite her greatest efforts at hurrying, she'd been forced to swim a portion of the way into the island's coast, the current drawing her away from familiarity of the beach where the bridge would have brought her to.  Her limb managed to catch on a rock or coral (she couldn't say for sure) as she pulled herself further up the sandy embankment, leaving a gash that the salt water was quick to make her notice.

    Breckin stood at the edge of the sea facing inward near a large sea worn boulder, scanning the treeline with trained eyes, assessing the likelihood of being discovered--something she would rather avoid in the present time.  Her goal was to get in and get out, not really in the mood to strike up a conversation with a passing stranger for once in her life.  The blood trailing down her alabaster limb ran pink as it mixed with the briney water that still clung to her, choosing to remain drenched in favor of shaking out her spotted coat.  It was a look that suited her current mood, she decided--feeling drowned in newfound emotions.
    Reply
    #2
    I V A R
    promising everything i do not mean
    It is not often that the sea creature comes this near to the main island. There are too many nosy residents, and there is already plenty on their islet to keep the kelpie occupied.  Today is a rare exception to that, and the blue, gold, and white stallion had found himself drifting idly a few inches above the seafloor with nothing to do. Kylin was busy with Kyveli, doing whatever dull things that landlocked creatures do, and there is not enough time between now and sunset for him to make a satisfactory trip to Nerine.

    The clear memory of what he cannot have is enough to temper his bitterness, and there is already a half-smile on his handsome mouth when he tastes the blood in the water.

    It is equine; he knows this in an instant.

    Trailing the source is as easy as identifying it, and the kelpie makes his way through the clear water, propelled by a long tail and sapphire blue fins. The golden scales that separate the blue of his piebald coat from the white glitter brightly in the light that filters down to the seafloor, and they are just as brilliant when he emerges in the shallows, shedding water from his scaled hide and dark dreadlocked mane a few dozen yards from the spotted mare.

    “You’re going to draw sharks with that,” he says mildly. The kelpie turns his head curiously, a motion that ripples that plentiful lean muscles of his shape that has shifted to a more familiar four-legged body as he emerged from the water. “It’ll make your return trip to…” a pause, and an inhale “Nerine that much more dangerous.” There’s no definitive expression on the stallion’s pale face (he’s certainly no offended border guard ready to drive her off) and if anything he comes off as slightly less than truly concerned for her wellbeing despite what he has said.


    I know my lies could not make you believe
    in my dark times, baby this is all I could be
    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


    @[Breckin]
    @[Vanilla Custard] tagged me/Ivar so this is her fault :|
    Reply
    #3
    There was ridgidity ingrained in her stance while she surveyed her surroundings.  No scents, sounds, or movement assaulted her senses, and she had at last become contented to discern that she was alone only after what felt like a small eternity had passed by her impatiently.  But there had been no relaxations or dropping of her guard in her surveillance, she would not allow herself that luxury today, so she is not entirely surprised when a deep voice resounds in a single flickering lobe.  Though someone is there, she doesn't turn to look in his direction immediately, no, she takes a full minute to sigh raggedly while cursing herself to hell and back.

    When finished, the depths of dark pupils turn to assess whoever chose to expose themselves.  Breckin had never seen him before, trying to recall if he had been at the gathering when Brennen had been instated with the crown of Ischia, yet no recollection presented itself.  That was not to say of course, that the Brotherhood's numbers hadn't grown since she'd last set foot on the isle, and truely for their sake she hoped they had.  

    "Are you one of the Brothers?" she asks blandly while turning to face him directly.  On second thought, whatever his answer was, it didn't really matter.  She'd already failed to go unnoticed despite her best effort.  What would the difference make at that point, if he was or wasn't?

    The crash of waves next to her nearly drowns his words upon her straining ears, but she manages to catch them all the same.  Perhaps against better judgement, Breckin takes a few steps closer to where the stallion stood.  Whatever type of encounter this was going to be, might as well get along with it so she could carry on with her goal for the day.  Of course, she could have just walked away, but she'd always hail to the beckoning call of the Mistress Curiosity.  

    Stopping with a still a few horse lengths buffter between them, her eyes narrow appraisingling at the interesting color combination that weaves upon his skin, eyes lingering longer than necessary upon the length of his dreadlocked mane, noting its water-heavy appearence.  He'd come from the sea, she was quick to assume; no wonder he was able to suddenly appear in the smallest of time frames from her previously roving eyes.  Is that what you are then? Come at the beacon of fresh blood?, she asks within the safety of her own mind as a half-hearted sneer twitches at the corner of her mouth.

    Her body was tired and her mind even moreso, and all desire for exchanging niceties and adorning false politeness had been stripped away by the undertow she had fought against.  "I'll take my chances, let them come for me.  Should I come to face any and fail to survive, at least I will become useful as a bad example."  His point had been valid, but again, it did not matter to her; even if she couldn't complete her objective, she would be gone again with the receding of the next low tide.

    "You're unaturally attractive and it's annoyingling distractive.  What's your deal?" she asks of him bluntly, unable to swallow the flurry of questions brought on by his sudden appearance any longer.  There would be no thin veil of diplomacy to conceal her today.


    @[Ivar]

    That's cool, I'll just blame @[Vanilla Custard] if Breckin manages to get herself into too much trouble. ((JK JK I love you Nilla Bean, you beautiful creature, and I think that was a wonderful suggestion))
    Reply
    #4
    I V A R
    promising everything i do not mean
    ‘Are you one of the Brothers?’ she asks. Ivar’s mouth, previously pulled in a thin line, twirls into a grin at the question. It transform his demeanor entirely: from an distant and ethereally beautiful creature to something far more approachable.

    “I, uh, am not. Fortunately.” The last word is paired with a playful raise of his brow. Though he knows the Brotherhood has reformed on the main island of Ischia, Ivar has never paid them any mind. They are too busy doing whatever it is the Brotherhood does to pay attention to the trio of equines who call the western-most little island home. “Unless you were looking for one?” Asks the kelpie, his head titled a bit to the side as she draws a little closer. “In that case, I suppose it would be unfortunate. For you, at least.”

    Ivar cannot tell if she is really paying attention to what he is saying; her eyes do wander. The kelpie is not perturbed by either possibility. He shifts his weight before rolling his shoulders back, keeping one keen golden eye on the spotted mare to see if she reacts. The words she say don’t give him any indication, but he is amused by her ‘que sera sera’ attitude toward the ocean’s predators.

    “What if no one sees you go down?” he asks. “They’ll assume something happened to you on your journey. Given the amount of royal traffic that’s stopped by recently I assume there has to be some war is brewing? I can see some battle-happy leader deciding your disappearance was an act of war. Who is it this time? Sylva again? Maybe those Tephrans got tired of all that sulfur and are making a play for some more valuable land?”

    Despite the nature of his questions, the tricolored kelpie gives no indication that he is invested in knowing the answers. His tone is flippant, though his eyes do flick between the mare and their surroundings in the manner of one well-accustomed to standing guard.

    The bluntness of her next query elicits a brief laugh, and the scaled creature shrugs innocently. “Who me? I’m no one important.” His golden gaze seeks hers, holding eye contact for a moment after his answer. “I’m just the friendly neighborhood seamonster.” Will she continue with her quick wit and amusing bluntness and call him out? 



    I know my lies could not make you believe
    in my dark times, baby this is all I could be
    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


    @[Breckin]
    Reply
    #5
    As the mysterious stranger spoke, she found herself drawing closer to him yet again,  dark  orbs holding his own golden gaze as she pulls her breath to make the remark of, ”It really doesn’t matter anymore, if you are or aren’t,”  finally stopping a single horse length in front of him.  There had truly only been one person in particular she had hoped to remain elusive to, and the striking creature in front of her certainly was not that person.  Though for now his presence was managing to manipulate the not-so-subtle curiosity that plagued her very existence.  It would most likely be the death of her someday.

    Whatever smile she had been wearing then seemed to run away from her face as her brow furrowed inquisitively, “And what exactly makes you think I am someone of enough importance to notice the disappearance of and warrant the ignition of war?”  The shadow cast down by a cloud passing before the sun moves away from lines of her face, seemingly highlighting the one-sided grin that re-grew there.   “You’re right though.  I’m Breckin, a Leviathan advisor.  And I’m going to go ahead and blame my clouded judgement for that one on whatever that annoying attractiveness is you seem to possess.”

    The heated sun upon the pattern of her contrasting back had nearly whisked all the water away from her, leaving her skin feeling tight and itchy.  The alabaster locks of her mane lay twisted and knotted along of the broad of her neck with the bright blue of the feather clinging to her tresses taking on a jagged appearance after becoming saturated.  The sensation of dried salt irritating her skin was enough to spur the leopard mare into further movement, choosing to circle the sea worn stallion in a loose circle, as her dark eyes appraised him from a closer vantage point.  ”That’s a horrible answer and I’m entirely unsatisfied with it,” she chastises in response to his vague answer of her inquiry.  Breckin continues her slow pattern one more time, with furrowed brows and steady concentration, as if the mere act of studying his physicalities would give her the answer she so craved.    

    Still unsatisfied and slightly put-off by how much time she had already wasted on the beach, she passes behind him a final time, before moving further up the sloping sand and closer to the jungle  so as to place him between her and the ocean’s edge.  If he really was a sea predator, she wasn’t about to linger closer to the realm he was most comfortable in.

    Easing herself to a halt a few paces away, she rounded back towards him, ”Friendly seamonster sounds like one helluvan oxymoron, though you’ve given me no reason to believe that you aren’t friendly. Would you like to be more straightforward with me now then for clarification's sake?  Should I or shouldn’t I have reason to fear you…,” her dark eyes move to align with his as a smile drawn with amusement grows a degree larger, ”Seamonster?”

    @[Ivar]  she's clearly struggling here.  Part of her wants to run far away, part of her wants to find out what the hell he is. Poor dear.
    Reply
    #6
    I V A R
    promising everything i do not mean
    Not on a diplomatic then, Ivar ascertains, else she’d be more interested in finding a legitimate resident of the island kingdom. Perhaps a terrible diplomat though, the kelpie muses, or one in a bad mood. For all her appeal (and Ivar finds everything appealing), her attitude leaves something to be desired. Unfortunately for Breckin (or perhaps fortunately?) the piebald stallion has always been espeically intrigued by women whose sharp tongues match their minds.

    As she comes closer, Ivar remains where he was standing, though he does reposition his forequarters to better face her, and his mouth twists into a smile as she asks what makes him think she is important. He doesn’t have time answer (he probably wouldn’t have), but the smile becomes a grin as she admits to a position that matches his previous assessment. An advisor, she says. Ivar wonders exactly what she might advise on; it’s certainly not water safety. 

    “I’m Ivar.” He replies, though this time when he smiles that his myriad of sharp teeth line a jaw that is just a little too long, could open a little too wide. His anatomy does not affect that annoying attractiveness that the spotted Nerinian points out; if anything, it is just a component of its entirety. “I’ve just got quite a bit in common with the sharks,” He says, gesturing toward the ocean behind him with a toss of his muzzle. “Though I suppose I could keep them out of your way when you head home. It’s the least I could do for Wishbone. I’m sure she’d vouch for how safe I am.” There’s a brow raise at the third to last word, as though the golden-eyed stallion dares Breckin to contradict him. He doesn’t maintain eye contact for long though, glancing back at the shimmering waves that are just out of reach.

    “And what does bring you to Ischia, Leviathan?” The name they’d chosen amuses him; it matches so well with the men that call this island home.


    I know my lies could not make you believe
    in my dark times, baby this is all I could be
    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
    Reply
    #7
    "Fascinating," she whispers breathily, brows furrowed inquisitively.  She'd watched from her vantage point as he displayed his predatory grin, finding herself taking a subconcious step closer; the temptation of getting a closer look was much too appealing.  But when the mention of his name finally settles into recognition, its like a brisk slap to her pale face.  It's enough to cause her to pause mid-step, before Breckin's hoof falls heavily to the cooling sands of the evening.  

    "Of course you are," she replies with mild appreciation, in response to offering his name and claiming how safe he was, while matching his brow raise with one of her own making.  

    The leopard mare had heard whispered ramblings of the stallion, though at the time she hardly paid any mind.  But the bits and pieces that she could recall seemed to fit well into place with what she had already learned of him thusfar.  Though it would be unfair to conclude that everything she had heard was true.  It was always better to get information straight from the source.  And she had come for a distraction afterall, she couldn't help but wonder if may be he would be the kind of distraction she was actually looking for.  Of course he would be, stupid woman.  He's already distracting you right now.  It was true.  A handsome fellow no doubt, but it wasn't his physical presence that was making it so hard to move along with her objective, it was his intellect and sharp wordplay that matched her stride for stride.  It was infuriating and exhilarating.

    Breckin wanted to sigh, to release her internal resolve into the open air, but she refrained.  The longer she stayed upon the beach with him, the more she had come to realize that she was struggling to dissolve this exchange on her own.  And something would have to change.  The spotted woman knew she wasn't an entirely cold person, liking to think that for diplomacy's sake she was usually quite friendly.  Perhaps this interaction would have gone a bit differenly had she not already been in a sour mood (and honestly she couldn't admit she didn't not like the gent), or perhaps not, but Breckin knew she'd have to try to at least be a tad bit colder, despite how bad she might be at it.  Maybe then he'd tire of her manners and move along with his day since she couldn't seem to.

    "I've heard some things about you, Ivar.  Depending on your perspective they could be seen as very bad, or very good," her smile tips precariously towards mischievious implications.  "Quite the devilish charmer is what it all the gossip seems to boil down to really, driving the ladies completely mental."  Breckin moves closer to him again, squaring up with him while remaining out of easy reach.  "If it's true, I don't blame you for being you, poppet." The smile turns nearly apologetic with a slight tilt of her crown, "Doesn't mean I don't hate it though." Actually I find you very interesting and don't entirely mind chatting, but go away.

    "As for why I'm here, I wish I could say it was something along the lines of diplomatic research, but my reasons are much more self-indulgent than even that."  Offering a brilliant smile, she goes quiet while suffocating the rest of the questions that still begged to be answered, waiting to see if he'd lose interest in her bitterness or lacking response.

    @[Ivar] Eh, sorry. This seems a bit all over the place. :|
    Reply
    #8
    It was never his intention to garner interest or infamy, but to say that being recognized by name alone does nothing would be false. His grin grows wider as the spotted mare continues to speak, though wether that is the result of her flattery (he considers her recounting of his reputation the epitome of flattering) or the fact that she is inching closer is not clear.

    She does remain just out of reach despite the interest in her eyes, and Ivar tilts his jewel-toned head in mild curiosity. Rather than dull his interest, her polite refusal to answer his questions piques the kelpie's innate curiosity. She knows of him, of his reputation, but she seems only to know the more harmless parts. He's no intention of sharing the rest, especially not when he feels this interaction is going so well.

    It could be going better, of course, so when she responds that she is on Ischia for personal reasons (or so he surmises from her half answer), Ivar takes a step closer. She is no longer out of reach now, but he does not yet close the distance between them. The kelpie has no interest in the unwilling, but they are never unwilling for very long.

    "Self indulgence happens to be my speciality." He replies at last, casting a sideways glance back to Breckin after looking back at the sea. The blue and white stallion does not find her bitterness off-putting, but he does know better than to push too hard, and adds: "Though you seem to know that already, so I'm sure you know that if whatever you're on Ischia for doesn't meet your expectations of indulgence, I'd be happy to make your trip worthwhile." There is no elaboration necessary on that final point; she knows his reputation and he has made no effort to hide the interest in his gaze.

    sorry for this taking like six years and also for ivar finding @[Breckin]'s lack of interest especially interesting lol
    Reply
    #9
    She was doing a piss poor job of deterring his attention and if anything he seemed more intrigued every time she tried to push him further away.  But he remained unbudging, unphased by whatever she tossed at him.  It made her wonder if getting chastised by a salt-stained mare was something he dealt with on a daily basis and was simply used to it.  

    "Seamonster..." she says in mock warning as he steps closer.  "Are you trying to exploit my fascination with you?"  Breckin takes a small step backward, slowly sliding her last forelimb back with exaggerated slowness before correcting her straight posture, smiling coyly the entire time.

    A part of her wanted to take him up on his offer, reach out to him right then, and forget her problems for a short while;  she had no doubt he could make it worth her while.  But that wouldn't be good enough for her and she knew that if she caved right now, she would regret her choice come tomorrow.  The woman he'd been talking with so far, wasn't really her; a part of her yes but not entirely Breckin.  And truthfully she liked him well enough to feel as though she owed him some honesty and a look at the whole confused and broken girl with the pretty masks.

    The charade had been fun and distracting for a while, but she tosses it aside.  If he really wanted to keep her company for much longer, he'd have to catch a glimpse beyond her illusion and let him decide if she was worth all of whatever this game had been.  She'd see how well he tolerated the truth of her situation.

    She finds her voice after a long, releasing exhale, "Ivar, I'm tired of dancing around the truth so I'll be direct now.  I really came here to try to clear my mind at the waterfall.  I'm afraid that I may be in love with someone, and I feel bloody helpless about it."  Her dark eyes make no attempt to find him, instead, they look toward the sand where she stood, sifting through the grains mindlessly.  The exposure of a small shell grabs her attention, and she raises it to her mane with a single thought, fiddling with the strands of her mane until it was secured behind her ear.  When her work is done, she finally meets his gaze with a rueful smile,  "I apologize if I've been rude, I hardly know you and yet you've bared the brunt of my frustrations remarkably well.  I suppose I should thank you for that."  She had meant it sincerely because on some level she had begun to feel slightly better.  And no matter where he took her admittance from here, at least she knew she had a slim chance to sleep better that night, knowing she'd made a small confession to herself as well as him.

    @[Ivar] No worries, love!
    Reply
    #10
    The warning in her voice does nothing more than make Ivar flick his curious blue ears and grin. He recognizes it for the mockery it is, and knows that it is all a part of the game. The kelpie steps forward as slowly as she slides her hoof backward, keeping the same amount of space between them and the amused expression even when Breckin accuses him of exploitation.

    There is rarely a moment when he is not guilty of that, after all. Guilt and ethics are not things that have ever bothered the kelpie.

    He knows her question had been rhetorical yet he answers, albeit with a query of his own. "Why? Would you like me to?" The silence that falls after is not uncomfortable - at least not to Ivar - and his dark eyes take advantage of it as he admires the spotted mare from this closer vantage point.

    Breckin's sigh is not entirely what he had expected; nor is the confession that follows. For a moment it distracts him, conjuring half-forgotten memories of two mares that had not known what awaited them. That mild discomfort paired with the way she so casually manipulates the shell into her mane has Ivar taking a step away as well. He paws at a half-buried bit of wood for a moment as though that was the reason he'd moved away, though his ears do still flick with interest as she speaks.

    "As long as you don't expect me to solve them, I don't mind." Ivar replies to her apology, looking up from his driftwood to meet her gaze directly. There is a flicker of a grin at the edge of his opalescent lips as his skewbald shoulders roll in a shrug. "After all, I've never known love to be anything more than an over-complication of a good time."

    @[Breckin]
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