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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


    This story's missing a wishing well // Sibella
    #1
    His brother was the one who stood out. No wonder why, either. It was impossible to look elsewhere when his little brother was present, his beautiful, winged, fire breathing brother. Beside him, Raul knew he was the plainer of the pair, it was nothing new to him. In fact he had come to appreciate his own role in their lives. He was the defender, the guide. He was largely the reason his fluff of a brother was still alive and in one piece. Uncle Ivar was a good mentor, one who Raul looked up to with fierce admiration. He had friends and family in Ischia, a far cry from where he and his brother had been a year ago. Some days, though, it was too much. Some days he needed to get away. 

    Santana was to stay nearby the island today. Supposedly. With dubious confidence, the buckskin colt had made his way to the mainland. Typically he would wait to venture into the Taiga with Santana, but he was feeling vaguely selfish today. Why not have his own adventure? If he found something exciting, he could always bring Tana to show it off. But he wanted to be first this time. So he didn't put up too much fight when his hooves trotted him into the piece of Beqanna where redwoods towered and mist perpetually rolled. 

    The colt was growing tall and beginning to hint at broad muscled lines beneath his golden coat. Eyes took in the gloomy surroundings, blue and silver. It would be easy to think blindness plagued one eye, but no. It was simply the visible mark his sire's blood had left on him. Tana carried one eye which burned orange, aptly enough. The buckskin boy stood out like a flame in the dim, mane and tail as vibrant as a sunset. Vaguely he began to note that while he knew the sun rose high above him, the surrounding forest continued to grow darker. Eerie night birds called in the perpetual twilight. With a snort he came to a halt. Hair raised along his spine, underlining an undeniable sensation. He was being watched. 

    @[Sibella]
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    #2
    Taiga had fallen into a slumber of sorts;  the only current residents apparently herself and the various woodland animals that frequently became the center of her bored amusement.  Their usual, nonsensical scurrying had become more purposeful with her looming presence over them, their once-casual paces now turned into outright fleeing.  The chittering and barking had driven a wedge between her eyes, harboring agitation and a festering loathing that had finally given way to a swift and fierce rebuttal.  Patience had grown thin, and their existence had grown tiresome.

    The predator she had sent into their throes was very much like the hound beast she had seen in Sylva; carefully woven from the deepest shadows the towers of the forest had to offer.  A hulking, coagulated mass that lacked all facial features other than a fanged mouth had been cast out to silence the majority of the woodland fauna.  Surprisingly, the effort had been small and the gains had been fruitful, turning Taiga from barking madhouse into a quiet solitude once more.  

    Pleased and satiated, the stygian puppeteer had called her golem back, keeping its fluid, pitch form close by.  It had become her companion and confidente, keeping bitter loneliness at bay and preventing her calculating mind from lapsing into threatening psychosis.

    Today her beast noticed the stranger before she did, training its unseeing eyes towards the distance as its jaw went slack in a silent huff.  The golem led and she followed, trailing soundlessly between the growing shadows.  

    He stood out like a beacon in the impending darkness, her yellow gaze easily finding the contrasting brightness of his coat.  Her puppet stood alert, waiting for her command.  But the shadowed tendrils that had easily knit it begins to unwind under her whims, sending the inky medium back to the forest floor where she had first gathered it.  Unfortunately for him, he is not looking her way; fortunately for her, it gives her time to tread effortlessly behind him, patiently waiting with a quizzical tilt of her head for him to notice the second shadow he had unknowingly gained.

    @[Raul]
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