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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


    could i use you as a warning sign - Kylin
    #1
    I V A R
    promising everything i do not mean
    For an overlong moment, the kelpie’s aurum gaze contemplates the lavender mare. Her shudder against him is reminiscent of a previous evening, but the way that she never pulls away is a reminder to keep his kisses soft and gentle. He won’t harm her, not now. The smooth circles he draws against her salty skin and feather-light, affectionate and happy. The command is so faint as to almost not exist; she won’t feel a thing if she is already experiencing that sensation. He does not force her happiness, but he does prevent even the slightest unhappiness. A manufactured state-of-mind that does not allow her to feel sadness in his presence.

    Ivar does not like the tears and he does not want his child to grow in anything less than ideal conditions.

    This is the kelpie’s first chance to have the proper amount of control over a pregnancy. He’d not even known Heda was expecting until he’d returned to find her giving birth. Isobell had fought him at every turn, a proud Nerinian Queen who refused to submit to her mate. But Kylin, she will not fight him. She is naïve and unsuspecting. Ivar intends to keep her that way as long as possible; the lavender tobiano will never be treated as anything less than the center of his universe. The kelpie values her, this mare carrying his child, above all else.

    That is why he is willing to take her through the woods of Sylva. To Ivar, the autumnal woods are as safe as anything other part of Beqanna. They are not as good as the sea, of course, but they are not dangerous to a kelpie.

    “Let’s go,” he says, pressing his scaled nose to the side of her cheek affectionately. “It’s this way.”

    For a while the trails are new (he will always prefer the waterways) but eventually the woods around them begin to look familiar to the tricolored stallion. There have been changes – new saplings and thickening of already age-old trunks – but he would know these trees anywhere. There is a vague acknowledgement of the official border (Ivar looks both ways before crossing to be sure there are no patrols in either direction), but the pair of island-dwellers do not pause.

    In autumn, the trees overhead are not quite as resplendent. They meld with the rest of the outside world, but Ivar hopes that to Kylin – who has seen only tropical greenery in recent memory – will be suitably impressed.

    “What do you think?” Asks the piebald creature. For a brief moment he considers pressing amazement into her, but reconsiders at the last moment. His gentle caress is free of hypnosis, though the rising heat in his touches is indicative that his mind is elsewhere. Clearly on Kylin, but also on significantly more in their surroundings than just their beauty. Molten eyes flicker across the woods, evolutionarily designed to detect the slightest movement. His ears and the delicate scales of his pale nose are in constant motion, ensuring the pair of them will not be surprised.


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


    @[Kylin]
    Others can reply but this is mostly for a sightseeing trip so please let Kylin reply first if your character feels the need to intercept them Smile
    Reply
    #2
    Her trust in Ivar is infinite. They've known one another since they were both children, from other worlds but connecting through their love for bodies of water. Kylin feels safe in his presence, never questioning his motives, as to her they are genuine. She knows he wouldn't harm her - not remembering any of what happened after they went for deeper waters the second time. His gentle touch pushes the last panic of her mind, the last bit of unhappiness following her fear and confusion slipping from her mind. Instead she is content, leaning into his touch as a soft sigh escapes pas the barrier of her lips. Almost, almost, is she even able to forget about this dreadful place.

    Only again remembering when the kelpie suggest they should go. An eager smile tugs on the corners of her lips, as she nods ever so slightly before tilting her head to lean into his touch.

    There is no question who of them has the lead. Ivar is half a step ahead, able to guide her either to the right by cutting her off, or to the left through turning his head and shoulders away from her. Meanwhile, her hazel eyes study their surroundings with curiosity. Other than Ischia, Hyaline and Loess she didn't know the lands of Beqanna, and the yellow, red, and orange are nothing like she had ever seen. "These leaves..." she murmurs stunned, amazed eyes searching Ivar's as turns to look at him. "They have the same color as some of Ischia's flower! How? Is it always like this?" It is - for someone who has never experienced autumn - a sight to behold.

    As the sapphire blue and crème and golden (?) stallion guides her across the border, she disregards any and all politic knowledge she has. Ivar guides her, and thus die naïvely follows. She does not need much encouragement, her own excitement and curiosity apparent enough. It had been years since they discussed visiting his childhood home, and when he moved to Loess it had looked like it would never happen. Kylin couldn't have been more thrilled.

    Her muzzle presses against his. "It is amazing! Can we explore?" she asks eager, her head held high as her hazel eyes soon roam their surroundings instead of staying locked on Ivar's features. Her lavender and white dance with each movement, and her tail is held high like an excited Arabian would do. "Show me your favorite places? Please?" Kylin asks, her gaze locked on his face for a moment, her lips touching the corner of his before she pulls away to stray from hoe side. A couple of steps to the right, her ears pinning forward as she takes in that part of the forest. "This way?" she asks, then moving to the left to cross in front of the kelpie. "Or maybe this one?"

    Ooc: another phone post ♡
    @[Ivar]
    Reply
    #3
    The mountain range that separates Sylva from the lands of death and battle (Ivar had always thought of them as the Bloody Mountains when he was growing up) rises quickly around the two equines. From the flat lands to sudden high elevation, autumnal forest in this part of the kingdom clings to tall cliffs and sweeping water features.

    "Year round," he replies to her breathless excitement. "The rest of the trees in Beqanna change with the seasons, but Sylva is always stuck in autumn." For a moment Ivar contemplates the fiery canopy, but the darting movements of the lavender and white mare ahead of him distract the piebald kelpie.

    "That way," he says with a smile, gesturing to the right. They'll stick to path through Sylva that stays closest to the sea, winding up through the mountains. They'll take the river back to Ischia once they cross it (and heading north, they will inevitably cross it eventually). "I'll show you my favorite hiding place," He promises, sliding his muzzle up the curve of Kylin's lavender neck as he passes by. He does so without comment, but presses just enough lust into the touch to make their journey through Sylva a bit more interesting.

    in my head it's like this landscape but autumn
    @[Kylin]
    Reply
    #4
    Having always lived on Ischia, Kylin is a stranger to the coming and going of the different seasons. She has experienced winter – and does not like it – and also has witnessed spring and summer during her rare trips to other parts of Beqanna (Hyaline, the river), but autumn is completely new to her. It does not fail to amaze her. And then to think Sylva always looks like this. The rich reds and yellows and oranges put Ischia’s color scheme to a shame. “It’s beautiful!” And Kylin cannot wait to see more.

    Standing in front of him – crossed from his right to his left side – the lavender woman has to bend her neck and glance back across her shoulder to see him gesturing in the opposite direction. Her eyes move in the pointed out direction, but she finds herself distracted by Ivar’s touch. It passes by too quick for Kylin’s liking, but his words – and the promise of learning about his childhood – are enough to make her forget. Her tail, in a rather Arabian like way, is held away from her body as she happily follows along, almost bouncing besides the sapphire piebald.

    “Where’re we going?” she asks, her soft voice pitched with enthusiasm. In favour of meeting his gaze, her hazel eyes are torn away from the scenery, her muzzle lightly touching his cheek as if to ask him wordlessly. “Will there be water?” It must be, Ivar had learned her how to swim after all.


    @[Ivar] Here is your missing post ;P <3
    Reply
    #5
    Kylin's excitement is nearly palpable, and the resulting quickening of her heart is equally pleasant to the kelpie. His decision to keep her happy had been a good one, he decides. Ivar's molten eyes flick to follow Kylin's quick movements. She is all but prancing beside him, and the pale faced stallion leans over to nudge playfully at the end of her shoulder playfully.

    "Dance now," he says teasingly, "Soon you'll have to watch your footing a bit more carefully." Ivar smiles as he turns his gaze back to the path ahead of them. The trees are slowly becoming less frequent; it is hard to grow on the bare rock of the narrow canyons they travel through. This is the way he had taken Zhenga to Hyaline, he remembers suddenly. They'd trekked these narrow trails together so long ago that he'd nearly forgotten. He glances back over his shoulder, to where Kylin is close behind.

    "Not much farther now," he calls to her, gesturing up a steep cliff. A narrow trail zigzags up it, and Ivar takes it with familiarity and confidence clearly built from experience. When he reaches the top, he turns back to wait for Kylin.

    Behind him, the forest is spread in a blanket of fiery red, burnt orange, and brilliant yellow. The lavender mare will have quite the view once she makes it to the top. "C'mon slowpoke!"


    ""
    Reply
    #6
    His playful nudge catches her by surprise, momentarily quickening her heartbeat. Her hazel eyes searches his, glancing at where Ivar walks beside her. About to ask what she did to deserve the sudden nudge - instead of a firm but gentle slide of lip and teeth down the curve of her neck - his words fluster her, making her glance away, ahead, but not after giving him a nudge in return. "I'm just excited.." she murmurs. "In the past, we never got to explore Sylva as we did Ischia.." Back then, they had only been children.

    Soon the path forces her to slow, place her hooves more careful on the ground, and walk behind him, instead of beside. How temping, now she has the kelpie's strong behind perfectly within reach. Just when Kylin is about to take a teasing little bite, their gazes meet as he looks back at her. And his words make her forget her earlier plans. Her hazel eyes look past him, and eyes the cliff with curiosity. "It looks so high!"

    And it turns out to be even higher. The climb is unlike anything that Kylin has ever done, soon, her coat is damp and her breath have turned into quick pants. She struggles to keep up with Ivar, who climbs the trail with practised ease.

    His teasing remark is met with a slightly outraged look, as her fine ears flick backwards while her hazel eyes narrow. "I'm not!" she calls after him. Determined to show she is not a slowpoke (whatever that might be), she hurries her pace, only to stop after a couple of steps. Instead Kylin watches him, tilting her head to then side. For a few moments she holds still, then snorts, before continue to follow after him in a way that is more likely to keep her legs in one piece. "It better be worth the effort," she teases him half serious, mutterring the words as she catches her breath.

    Breaths that she forgets to breathe as her eyes land on the wide view they have from the cliff.

    @[Ivar]
    @[Kahzie] does this one work?
    Reply
    #7
    Ivar has been to both of Kylin's childhood homes; Hyaline as well as Sylva, but the tobiano mare is not familiar with his. He'd tried to bring her here once before, but that night they had ended watching seat urtles instead. He wonders, every now and again, what might have happened if they had made it here instead.

    Below him, the lavender mare climbs the steep trail, and Ivar's dark tail swishes idly against his scaled legs. From here he can almost see the glint of the distant taigan bay, or perhaps it is merely a trick of the horizon. The sun is now almost directly overhead, and Ivar is grateful for its warmth on the chilly winter day. As Kylin crests the ridge, he leans against her, both out of affection and in search of warmth.

    She is taking in the view, and the kelpie takes advantage of her distraction to run his lips along the curve of her crest. She tastes of the sea still, but not of the right one. The sand still crusted in her mane is powdery with bone, not the bleached coral of their island. While Ivar knows he has promised to show Kylin the kingdom, he is truly more interested in returning home, where Kylin will be truly safe.

    "What do you think?" He asks, pulling away to join her in taking in the view. He gestures to the northeast, where the red trees begin to give way to evergreen of the Taiga. "My lake is over there," he tells her, "the one where I learned to swim." He'd meant to take the trail up the mountains, but this one is shorter, and will bring them home all the sooner.

    "Would you like to see it?" Ivar asks, stroking the curve of her shoulder with gentle touches of his muzzle. It would be nice to take her to the bottom, to keep here there so she might see the way the sun looks as it sets when viewed through an autumn canopy from the bottom of a lake. It's a sight quite unlike any other. He'll wait till the child is born, he decides as he steps back to press a cheek to her slowly growing belly; a drowned mother is probably not good for a developing fetus.

    @[Kylin]
    Reply
    #8
    Even though his previous remark is not yet forgotten, she happily leans into him. She has always liked close proximity and Ivar, being taller than she is, forms a perfect shield against the chilly breeze. Kylin has never liked the cold, but his warmth is – and presence – make up for the cold. And the sight pretty much makes her forget about it too.

    Both her lavender ears point forward, hazel eyes roaming from the far left to the right, all the way from right across the ridge to the far horizon. She barely notices how his muzzle slides across her crest, but her body instinctively reacts to his, leaning into his touch even though her attention is elsewhere. “It’s amazing” she tells him almost breathless, his shoulder solid against hers. Her gaze finds his, out of the corner of her eye, to offer him a bright smile as her eyes twinkle.

    It does not last long, as he points northeast and her gaze follows his to look in the distance. There, where the orange and yellow and red leaves meet the sturdy dark green of Taiga’s pine trees. Kylin extends her neck, and leans forward, as if that would make her see it better. “Can we? I’d love to!” she tells him with much enthusiasm, once again turning to look at him. Her muzzle finds his cheek, not yet stepping away to make her way down, but already pumped with fresh energy.

    Her neck curls further to follow him as he steps back, watching him press his cheek against her stomach. A soft smile, soon hidden as she glances away flustered and turns around after him, not yet aware of what he already knows. Kylin makes way for the trail they had just used to make their way up to the ridge, glancing back across her shoulder as to silently ask him if this was the way.

    “Who learned you how to swim?”

    @[Ivar]
    Reply
    #9
    It is not often that the kelpie reminices about his childhood, but it seems inevitable here. The red gold brnaches that arch overhead are the same branches that he had played under as a child; these trails they walk are the same ones he had raced down as a colt. Though the years have passed, and numerous kings and queens have ruled this land in the time since, it somehow feels as though nothing has changed.

    As they walk, Kylin asks who had taught him to swim. Ivar's gaze flicks to her for a moment before looking back out at the woods around them (ever alert, ever on guard).

    "Mostly my father," he tells her after a moment. "He was a kelpie, like me. My mother was a shifter too, and she often swam with me as well." Never the three of them together though; Ivar doesn't add that. Stillwater and Djinni did not swim, not unless it was to fight (and inevitably, to procreate). His mother had known the typeof creature his father was in a way that Kylin does not fully understand.

    Ivar does not mind this, of course. The lavender mare is far easier to control without knowing everything.

    As the midafternoon sun begins to filter through the leaves overhead, they reach the pond. It is deceptively small, and shaped like a crescent moon. At one end, one of Sylva's many boulders creates the point of the crescent, and it is that boulder that Ivar steps up onto. His hooves click across the stone - louder than when he was a foal, but the sound is still the same - as he moves to stand at the very edge.

    He glances back over at Kylin in invitation, and then dives in. From a standstill to a forefeet-first dive, the move might have been deadly if Ivar did not know what lurked beneath the surface. Rather than a muddy, debris covered bottom, the pond water stretches down along the several meters deep boulder. The kelpie's finned tail propels him past the entrance of the shallow cave, and it occurs to him that the seclusion of it and the small pocket of air it holds might be an idea hiding place - or a cell.

    The piebald stallion surfaces with a small splash, turning back to where he suspects Kylin still stands on the shore.

    "C'mon in." He tells her, flicking one fin forward to playfully toss water in her general direction. The water is chilly this late in the winter, but not yet frozen,
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