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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


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    One for All [Phasus]
    #1
    Since the stand-off on Icicle Isle, Jesper could not help but feel like he should have done more. He should have pressed harder: gotten more involved, asked more questions, said or did more. All he did was stand there, in silence. Well, no longer. The ebony steed set out across the still frozen terrain in search of more information. He thought, if he could find the winged black mare or, the black tobiano shifter, he could talk about things. He was never explicitly a diplomat but, he had been told he had a way with words. And, he certainly did not like the idea of engaging in a fight over a misunderstanding.

    Jesper half expexcts to find the winged roan mare together with the unknown stallion. As he approaches, sensitive olfactories flare to filter through all of the scents mingling with her own. Bronze-tipped lobes prick towards her alertly while facial features remain soft and friendly. He is bound and determined to make a positive first impression in the hopes that he might set the tone for their entire encounter. Refined, yet sturdy, limbs carry leanly muscled stag towards the lady at a casual stroll. Jesper draws to a halt, a respectable distance away and, shifts aquamarine gaze to level with hers. He finds himself diving deep into her dark pools, lost in her near black gaze. With a shake of his poll, male breaks eye contact and collects his thoughts in order to speak.

    "I thought our first encounter got off to the wrong hoof. My name is Jesper. I have come in the hopes you might be open to talking things out." Steed falls silent and begins to study the mare. She is built very similar to he - a desert-bred, Arabian-lined equine. Her features are refined but sturdy. In fact, so much about her conformation, posturing and mannerisms, seem so very familiar to his own.
    jesper
    carnage x bethanie
    devin's∇designs

    @[Phasus]
    Reply
    #2

    A sick thought can devour the body's flesh more than fever or consumption.

    The wind is always howling here.

    A low, earthy groan rattles the small copse of trees to her left, and Phasus simpers, recalling the magician and the way their magic tangled together the last time like writhing, naked bodies. If it were of her own choosing she might still be beside him, breathing in the matted odor of sweat and potential. In a vague effort to create the impression of an alliance that isn’t clouded with collusion, however, she has distanced herself from him as unwilling as she is.

    Let them think nothing is happening.
    Let them think they have won.

    But the resistance is growing.

    So, Jesper will find her in the southernmost corner of the isle today, standing across the cottongrass with the sun on her back and outstretched wings in one of many futile attempts that she has made to keep her slight body warm here. Without an audience set before her she is almost approachable, with her nose buried in a patch of arctic willow and an almost comical expression of disgust evidently running through every line that composes her pretty face as every-so-often she pulls at the white tufts of the cottongrass while she wonders how on earth anyone can consider them a food source.

    As it turns out, springtime yields few changes in the frozen isle.

    Purple saxifrage blooms above the snow in clumps here and there, but most of the ground is still laden with ice and snow. She still loathes it, exponentially so, and especially as she considers the gruesomely thick winter coat that’s replaced what once was sleek and made it bulky. The truth is that with Set standing beside her she doesn’t need this isle anymore, not desperately so in any case. The situation for her had become survivable, albeit not the lavish, effortless one she might prefer.

    And it would still please Him, wouldn’t it, to see his blood at the top again?

    So, when he finds her, when he tells her his name and how he yearns for diplomacy between their warring parties she does her best to look small and harmless; a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Jesper,” she muses allowed, a curling smile creeping across her lips that holds within it no more than she is willing to betray about herself.

    “My name is Phasus.” There is something familiar that she’ll find in the planes of his face, something not entirely unlike her own, as she lifts her head to meet his gaze squarely.

    “I’ll openly admit I didn’t expect to hear from anyone seeking a diplomatic conclusion to all of this. Tell me, Jesper, what do you think the answer is?”

    phasus



    @[Jesper]
    Reply
    #3
    Aquamarine gaze continues to study the winged, roaning black. Her facial expression clearly belays her disgust for the menu on the Isle. Her body language indicates her every desperate attempt to soak in the weak sunrays. To himself, Jesper wonders, why would she choose to stay here - let alone lead - if she does not enjoy what the land has to offer? Bronze-tipped lobes point towards the mare and, jawline stays loose. Every aspect of his body language conveys his warm, diplomatic nature. Rubbery labrums curve into a friendly smile as the Arabian-bred stallion waits for the lady to speak.

    Ah, she has a name. Phasus. Jesper rolls the two-syllable title around in his thinker-box before he offers a bob of his poll in a formal gesture of greeting. He then, uses his own body to block the wind from piercing her pelt. It is the gentleman-like thing to do and, a good faith measure on his intentions. I didn't expect to hear from anyone seeking a diplomatic conclusion to all of this. He listens to the mare's admission and, contemplates how to proceed. He thought it low of her to assume that Nerine, and her allies, would be against a discussion. That the thought might not have even crossed their minds. He thought her comment might imply that Nerine has a reputation for/is known as a war-hungry nation. Jesper wants to stamp his hoof in disagreement. He wants to display how frustrated her words make him. And, to top it off, she wants him to speculate on how willing she is to talking things out. What sort of a question is that? This is all a mind game!

    Jesper takes his time to conjure the right words and, decides upon a sigh as his way of expressing his inner grievances all while keeping a political agenda. He must watch what he does and says from here on out. He breaks the silence and, the inevitable ice with a light chuckle and, the following, spoken in a light tone. "It is a shame I was not there sooner, to avoid all of this." He falls silent and permits his half-hearted joke to marinate for a moment.

    When he continues, his tone is far more sincere. "I will openly admit that we Nerinians - whether by pledge or association - are very protective of, and loyal to, our own. Our origins are deeply entwined and, routed in shared principles and values. Perhaps, you met so much resistance because it was not made clear who you are or, what your intentions are? I believe there has been a miscommunication regarding each other's motivations. I can speak for my comrades in saying this, we wish to secure a place safe from the plague to move our nears and dears. I certainly hope that is something we agree upon." Jesper hopes to offer the mare as much floor space as possible. This is a discussion after all. Thusly, he allows her the quiet time to reflect on what has been said.
    jesper
    carnage x bethanie
    devin's∇designs


    @[Phasus]
    Reply
    #4

    A sick thought can devour the body's flesh more than fever or consumption.

    Chivalry, perhaps, is not so dead after all.

    Following the polite (and ever-so-appreciated) gesture of barricading the frigid wind that had been relentlessly assaulting her side in what had felt at the time a very pointed way, he might have asked her for anything and she would have felt obligated to oblige him in his request, no matter the cost. It was a simple maneuver (and in all likelihood one he had not thought long on), but to Phasus, shivering as she grows more and more bitter by the second and used to a life much more cushioned and blessed than this one, it is unusual. In fact, for a moment afterwards she waits, switching her hips, for the cost of such knight errantry to make itself known.

    She is used to things having a price.
    After all, she hasn’t become what she is for no reason.

    The theory of causality is one that she is well versed in, and one that a great number of her manipulation tactics revolve around — and so still, she waits, carefully learning the lines of his face and finding them not all so different from her own (good genes, she thinks, presumptuously). All that comes, however, is a friendly smile; the first, perhaps, that she has seen since she had first embarked into this wasteland from out of the shadows so many nights ago.

    She doesn’t remember him from the latest of frays between Nerine and all claimants not-Nerine, but then she had been so entangled in the thrill of Set’s own raw power that she hadn’t noticed much beyond it. A shame, she thinks, because the kindness she sees set out before her in her newly found companion is one of the easiest to exploit (if it is earnest, of course). She might have remained back longer to test some more pretty words, though perhaps they are better spoken now in a smaller setting.

    It is with little regret, however, that she learns how her admission has rubbed him in the next moment. From the heavy sigh she is left to decipher his disapproval, though the shock value of said disapproval is long beyond her by now. The light chuckle that follows it does more to leave her pretty mouth slightly agape, in fact, as she had been bracing herself for a second onslaught of verbal battery following his sigh. He did belong to Nerine, after all.

    It is a shame I was not there sooner, to avoid all of this.” He says, and much to her surprise, playfully.

    “Such a shame,” she agrees, equally playful while her eyes seem to lengthen with the half-lidded smile she offers next. She shifts her weight onto the hip nearest him for no one’s benefit but his own; a nasty habit bred into her — to use what she has been gifted, brain or bend of hip.

    How interesting.

    And so it is with her full attention (a rare commodity, in all honesty, because when isn’t she so entangled in herself that she can focus for long enough) that he goes on to explain Nerinian loyalty in an effort to bridge the gap between them. It is a gesture that while she could come to appreciate would all likelihood go on in vain given just how stubborn and opposing the leading contenders all were in their own right. He ends with the opportunity with a thinly veiled opportunity for her to side with him, and she’ll lap it up like a saucer of milk, drinking as much as she chooses to satiate them both, and preening in her accomplishment when she is finished.

    “Of course I agree, but it’s so much more complex than just that. Don’t you think?”

    The parties cards (Set excluded, he was the wildcard she hadn’t anticipated) had already been revealed, an unfortunate slip on Oxytocin’s part and one that she’d harboured some bitterness about until recent changes had come to pass. Either by her own lips or someone else’s he would hear of it, and so she determines it in her best interest to speak now and twist the words the ways they sound the prettiest on her tongue.

    “The safelands are in limited supply, and each one of them has the ability to grant access to both the sick and healthy alike. What I would like to see happen, and what was poorly communicated by an overzealous (and frankly, overstepping) comrade of mine, is an experiment. A failsafe, if you will, should the fairies go back on their word, or something else go dramatically wrong with the other safelands. We would welcome any healthy Nerinians, while those infected might be better off seeking treatment on the mainland or the rest of Beqanna so as not to jeopardize the health of their loved ones. I think it’s unwise to blindly put our faith in the fairies and have everyone choose the same path. Of course I’m no more excited to turn away the sick as anyone else would be, but the truth logically is that their chance of survival is not heightened by living here while it does exponentially increase the risk of those who are still healthy should things backfire.”

    Satisfied with a healthy amount of sugar on her agenda, she pauses to gauge his reaction. She had been left bitterly disappointed by Leilan’s reactions to her pretty stories before. What good is being so clever if no one is willing to listen, after all?

    “Perhaps, speaking candidly, I think the difference of opinion might stem from the fact that I think your running candidate is acting selfishly and not in the best interest of Nerine or Beqanna as a whole. I would love to reach a mutually agreeable conclusion, but I’ll admit there have been firings from both parties that have left me doubtful.”

    Oh, such a clever, pretty thing.
    If he listens closely, perhaps he'll even hear the low rumble of a purr escape her throat. Likely not, though.

    phasus



    @[Jesper]
    Reply
    #5
    Of course I agree, but it's so much more complex than just that. Don't you agree? The black male had a notion to eagerly agree so as to continue the mutual tone of their conversation. Alas, that would hardly help to reconcile the original miscommunication(s). Instead, the desert-bred steed maintains his sincere expression. His entire focus; alert ears and bright aquamarine eyes, rest upon the lady in anticipation of her next words. If his body language did not clearly indicate that she held his attention with every word, Jesper offers a verbal indication as well. "Please go on, Phasus."

    He remains respectfully silent as she explains, to further demonstrate his sincerity. He could hardly be sure which station her train of thought would end up in; however, Jesper refrains from analyzing any more until she falls silent. If there is one thing he picks up on while paying attention to her pretty words, it is the manner in which she says them. The winged, roan mare is clearly enjoying this conversation. Whether she actually enjoys his company, the mutual conversation or, just hearing herself talk, is still to be determined.

    He takes one more moment before his maw parts, allowing passage to the words that had been brewing. "I really appreciate you going into such detail. I have to admit, your use of the word 'experiment' left a bad taste in my mouth. I could not get on board with making decisions based solely on your personal curiosities. However, a failsafe land sounds a bit more practical. I am just not sure the Nerinians want  the North to be it. On a personal level, I am not entirely sure I could get behind it either. If my long-lost love were to find her way back to me - here, after a few years - I could not, in good conscious turn her away again. She nursed me back to health when I was at my worst and, I would do the same for her, without a second thought." His poll drops his whiskered muzzle to hover just above the frozen ground as Jesper wallows a moment in his own grief. Tufted, bronze-tipped ears flop sideways and sorrow creases his delicately etched features.

    He lingers here to deliver the full effect of his loss before, slowly, he brings his aquamarine gaze up to level with hers. The majority of the grief and sorrow have left his facial expression but linger in his tone. He speaks again, resuming his previously sincere tone though, now it bears a somberness. "I have not been one to doubt the fairies. They have never led me astray and, in fact, have always given me the resources I need to grow. I, also, do not think the fate of Beqanna is ours to determine. We are mere pawns in the grand scheme. If the fairies need, or want, our help, they will ask. On the subject of the Nerinians who have put their name in for the leadership bid, I understand why you might think one is acting selfish. We all have personal motives. As I said before, I believe there was a miscommunication amongst all involved. Whether Nerine made her intentions clear is a whole other issue but, please consider that we all have gifts. Each and every one of us has something to bring to the table and, if we are to survive, we work best together."

    What can he say, except, Jesper likes to hear himself talk as much as the lady does. Though, he does not purr. He feels as though he had exhausted his diplomatic points and wanted to leave the floor open to any other thoughts or, considerations Phasus had. He hopes that she does not feel utterly defeated following his words as they were not intended as a battering ram. Rather, he hoped to bring forth consideration that while Nerine may not share her thoughts, perhaps they could meet on some common ground in the middle.
    jesper
    carnage x bethanie
    devin's∇designs

    @[Phasus]
    I am so sorry for the delay. I know you had a brief away but, I do not like to be behind. I completely understand if you need any more time. And, I hope I did not kill this thread Wink
    Reply
    #6

    A sick thought can devour the body's flesh more than fever or consumption.

    In the silence that stretches out between them like horizons beyond the last pretty word to leave her mouth she is still basking in the shield he has made from his body.

    And when at last he gives her his opinion on her platform the conversation, admittedly surprisingly, is already more productive by leaps and bounds than any to take place before it. Phasus, who he has noted to love the sound of her own voice (he isn’t wrong; she is a simple creature in many ways), is delighted at the mere notion of being listened to, regardless of whether the opposing side has altered it’s view any or not. She has been bred for manipulation (see it now in the jut of her hip, or the way she looks out from under the curl of her dark lashes instead of head on), but of course she is not above succumbing to it herself. Try as she might she is no god.

    He is right to listen, and to use patience.

    Let her think she is heard.
    Let her think she is valid — and then, then watch all of that stubborn resolve fall away like snow melted only by the heat of her own hand.


    He isn’t done though. He goes on to tell her a personal note, about a lost love that he could not in good conscious turn away if he vision had come to fruition. She watches as grief takes him in its cold grasp and his head falls while his eyes cloud, though she is, admittedly, not particularly moved by the drama of the scene. Phasus does not empathize with many. That’s what happens when you don’t love much beyond yourself. But there is an opening in his heartbreak that she sees (there, in the hole of his loss, that one that he is bleeding out from), and one that she is not above exploiting.

    She doesn’t speak then, though she does find it difficult to grasp the logic behind his reasoning. He wouldn’t need to turn his love away. He could choose her. He could go with her. They could be anywhere together, but here.

    “I’m sorry for your loss,” she says when he is finished entirely, referring to the vulnerability he had previously shown her earlier in their conversation (and the last point she had been listening for, after which she promptly lost herself in her own schemes).

    “Would you mind though, if for argument’s sake alone, I used her as an example?” She pauses, as though in consideration of his feelings while in reality she is counting seconds before plunging forwards; the subtle nuances of conversation do not evade her, and so she waits a respectable amount of time while feeling nothing for his suffering.

    “Let’s say that she is safe here — as beautiful as ever, and the sickness hasn’t found her. Perhaps she has children, too — sweet, fragile things barely on their own legs. They’re yours. Now, you are the one who is ill and finds this place. Are you willing to jeopardize her health, their health, by deciding that here in this tundra is where you must stay when you have the whole world behind you? Would you not choose instead to better yourself on the mainland first before returning home?”

    And here she allows a second, dutiful pause to follow the first. She lowers her eyes, and shakes her delicate face as though the concept is too much to bear. It isn’t.

    “I’m sorry,” she continues, allowing her voice to break in all of the right ways. “I know it’s a difficult imagery to see. I lost someone, too, once…” And here she trails off, giving him time to imagine the nonexistent lover, or child, that has her tripping over her words and dropping her guard. Inside, she is wriggling with delight at her own cleverness.

    “It’s what, in the end, helped me to make sense of all of this.”

    phasus



    @[Jesper] Sorry this is so late! And it's not great, but I wanted to tie things up a little. I figure this will be a good place to leave it and bring us to the current all residents thread. We can say after this they decided to sit and think on everything and went their separate ways, if that works for you.
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