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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


    [mature]  the mirror man was my opponent - anyone
    #1
    Life is crazy fickle.

    She has a habit, like the sea he stared at, of changing her mind, and she is mega moody. In one moment she is tame like untouched waters before dawnbreak and in the next she is as violent as a seastorm before luring the sharks to the aftermath if you were lucky enough to survive the first slam. Yet, no matter how frustrated you are with her, she tosses at you one measly good thing that makes it all near better, makes you want to continue living that pathetic life of yours a little longer.  He had given her so much, the time and the effort, and just as greedily she had taken what he could offer.  And damn near like any woman who knows what she is worth, or what she deserves, she would come to realize how fiercely she hated him and be forgotten the next day.

    It was bullshit is what it was. 
    And so was this philosophical jargon he was internally monologuing.

    He would be better off for leaving—could start something fresh with a new persona in tow.  Live freely and do what he liked, no longer submissive and weighted beneath a moody woman’s whims.  

    This place would be different.  No one knew him here, or so he thought.  Couldn't really remember actually.  But that still gave him just enough will to break his mild stare from the waves, curling the corners of his lips into a one sided grin as he turned inland. Maybe they’d remember him someday and the thought of them weeping made his heartbeat flutter in his chest with twisted anticipation.  

    If only he could kill that urge to kiss her one more time.

    OOC- short, blah starter but I'm trying to start developing him. blank slate pone atm
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    #2

    for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
    in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle

    Hyaline fades into Forest and the thick tree cover gives way to the sea. Before the Fairies rearranged things Hyaline had been on this coast, to the north some, if she remembers correctly. It’s hard to say for sure, the miles of blue black sea aren’t exactly abundant in landmarks. Its has taken her most of the day to get here from home, the forest is full of paths but none of them lead directly anywhere and there are some places that even bold Kensa will not delve into on her own.

    The journey itself is what pleases her, the way the flora varies. Pine needles to moss, moss to ferns. Pines become cedars, a few redwoods too, ancients gone astray from the Taiga. She has no special gifts granted her by magic, but she feels the world with an unusual intensity. Kensa fills up on the fragrance of forest, lets the ocean tease her with its salty whisper carried inland on the boldest zephyrs. Woodpeckers fill her ears with their stuccato carpentry, and a fox and her kits yelp at her from atop their deadfall den. There is always a new variation here, something to process, examine, enjoy. She revels in this, existence is a drug.

    Liver chestnut, with high white on her four limbs, a wide white blaze and pale blonde locks Kensa is flashy, striking against any backdrop. She knows she doesn’t exactly blend in, and is not inclined to shrink back or conceal herself when she comes across a stranger. In this case, a grullo stranger turning away from the coast and toward the blue-green forest from which she is emerging.

    Kensa intercepts him quietly, gemstone eyes alert as she offers her muzzle in greeting, greedily hoping to sample his scent and puzzle out where he has come from. “Kensa.” Giving her name as a hello before politely sliding by, because she has arrived here and needs to take a look down over those black rocks, to gaze upon the diamond myriad of water droplets bursting up from the impacts of waves. Satisfied by the sight she pulls her eyes slowly away to look back at the stallion who might still be walking away. “Where are you going?” Silvery, gentle, curious.

    kensa
    for every dreamer, a dream. we're unstoppable with something to believe in.


    @[Finnus]
    Reply
    #3
    He had wondered how long it might be before he would collide again, with another or the past or whatever.  At least he had been hopeful he would make it into the forest before all of that; give himself a chance to settle in a notch before maneuvering around the locals.  But chance and life have a strange way of twisting their cords into the same strand of knotted fuckery.  Like now, for example, when he takes all of three steps before practically tucking into a girl that manages to apparate out of nowhere.  Or at least it sure as hell seemed like it.

    In response, she receives a slow blink as she glides beyond him to the point where he stood just before.  Kensa, she says and he waits, turning enough to stare at her sideways in deliberation.  Either that was a strange tongue of greeting or her name, and for once he grasps a fraction of his attention span for long enough to hear her voice carry over with more.  It crosses his mind to keep walking, keep pressing on, but really he was just in a hurry to go nowhere; might as well waste a few more minutes with inquisitive company.

    As loaded as her question feels to him after she asks, and for as deeply as it cuts through to his own personal philosophies, he answers with raw truth.   “I don’t know,” he says with a rolling shrug of his dusky shoulder, nearly apathetic with his admittance.  She hadn’t asked for his name, and so he feels no obligation to give it yet; it may have been the polite thing to do, but good manners are a far reach from anything he’d ever want to claim to have in this world.  Instead of a name, he offers a raised brow and a one-sided grin, “Got any suggestions?”

    @[Kensa]
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    #4

    for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
    in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle

    Kensa misses the coast, though Hyaline still has one she doesn’t often spend much time on it. At no point in her life has she ever had a bad time on the edge of the world.

    Her attention diverts from the gnashing sea and onto the unfamiliar man and as he speaks she rounds back toward him, this time to the opposite side. Her outside ear flicks to catch the cry of seabirds headed for their cliff-nests, the sea hiss-hissing all the while. The gruff voice and his tilted smirk warrant her quiet consideration for a beat. There is a little bit of mystery to him that she is not ready to believe is just affect. “A few.” She says, dark lashes dropping over her ochre eyes, thoughtful. Her tone has a fleeting kind of seriousness in it when she continues...“But I don’t know if I want to tell you about them.”

    A smile pulls at the corners of her lips then. She arches her neck, and sidles up to bump her shoulder against his. “What’s your name?” A silvery purr accompanies the game look she gives the grullo. Just in case her proximity is unwelcome (it rarely is, but he might be less friendly than he seems), Kensa side steps and puts a little distance between them, pushing into the cool shadows of the trees, her slender white legs waltzing into the dewy tangle of fern and shrub. “Are you coming?” Of course she isn’t really leading anywhere, she has no place to go and no ideas for where he belongs but she’d enjoy a wander in the woods with a stranger.

    kensa
    for every dreamer, a dream. we're unstoppable with something to believe in.


    @[Finnus]
    Reply




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