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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


    let's begin feeding the sickness; any
    #11
    End watched fear flash in the girl’s eyes, and his pupils dilated and his tongue flicked out again to taste the scent of it in the air, his breath coming faster. The first interruption was more amusing than anything else, but the second appeared to have some sort of deeply puzzling...protective instinct? How odd.

    End narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, ignoring a tickle in the back of his nose as he glanced between the girl who was fleeing--mmm, run, yessss, he loved it when they ran, when they panicked and worked themselves up into a sweat, when they marinated in their own fear and made the final meal that much more satisfying, made him work to tear away the flesh, thrash and rip and swallow down chunks of them--oh. Right. Another growl reminded him there was something standing between him and his dinner. Probably for the best; he really didn’t want to be stuck in that damned shape again.

    He grinned a toothsome grin at the stallion who was churning up the water. “Sssshe pressssented hersssself sssso ssssweetly. What elsssse wassss I ssssuppossssed to think?” The tickle in the back of his nose grew, but he blew out a short little huff of laughter and it subsided again. “Do you not eat the weakesssst, weeding them out that the sssstrong might thrive?” Perhaps the prey-beasts had no need of such things; their predators weeded them out instead. “How sssstrange.”

    He glanced at her retreating form, reptilian eyes flashing again. “Pity. Sssshe would have been deliccccioussss.” Ugh and the damned tickle returned in greater force as he returned his attention to the stallion, catching End off-guard and making him sneeze, sending a shower of the noxious saliva that dripped from his jaws showering in the stallion’s direction. He must have caught a bit of a chill crossing the water. Delightful. He hissed annoyance and stretched out a little more on the rock, turning just slightly to catch a bit more sun and try to warm himself up faster.
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    #12
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
    Despite focusing most of his attention on the lizard, he can hear their movement and chatter behind him. There’s still enough of a mind-channel open that he also catches the basic drift of their thoughts. He wants to turn around, to introduce himself to her, but he has to satisfy himself with knowing that there is no malice in the stranger stallion’s thoughts as he flees with Brennen’s offspring towards the main portion of the island. Even that fades into the background, though, when the one in front of him…speaks.


    To his everlasting credit, he doesn’t show any surprise. Sure, Beqannians are used to semi-sentient wildlife, but few of these creatures simply open their mouths and speak. His parrots do, of course, but mostly they’re just repeating things they’ve heard. Other than that, wildlife that speaks is usually either magical in nature, or actually a horse shifted in form. Still, his faces changes with incredulity when he understands what is being said to him. “Of course we do not,” he snaps, voice icy, but not relaxing even a hair. “We are not barbarians. We protect our young and our weak, so that the group together will thrive.”


    In response to the lizard’s assertion that his newfound daughter would have been ‘delicious’, Brennen snakes his head low again, ears pinned, a wordless threat, and he is just beginning to lift his head again when he is sprayed with the creature’s saliva, which burns upon impact, at dozens of tiny points where it lands on him. The warrior king hisses, more with annoyance than true pain, though it quickly turns from an annoyance to true pain where it has landed on more sensitive areas – his muzzle, and around his eyes. His first response is to leap into retaliation, but even as a jet of water starts to propel it’s way towards the dragon, logic prevails.


    Even Brennen recognizes a sneeze when he hears one.


    The water is dispelled, crashing back into the surf, and over the top of it he raises his voice. “The residents of Ischia are not food. You’d better get used to eating seafood, if you’re staying, because that’s really all there is here.” He can’t (really) fault a predator for acting like a predator, but this island is uninhabited by aught except equines and avians. “And neither do they want to be sprayed by whatever it is you’ve got brewing up your weird scaly nose. Keep it to yourself.” He starts to back away, turning to look at the two on the mainland only when he is some distance away – he will hear it, if the dragon drops back into the water to attack.


    “Hello,” he says to them, once he too is on dry sand. “I’m Brennen.”
    hold me in this wild, wild world
    and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
    BRENNEN
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