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    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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    ...my name on your tongue and your tongue on my... [any faerie]
    #1

    Rhaegor

    the playboy

    It pains him, passing through the southern mountain passes of his birth home without hearing a single other soul about. When he closes his eyes, he can almost see Will and Koko racing him down their mountain in the dead of light, their only thoughts on beating one another and getting to the lake first; Rhae smiles, too, at the memory. But when his cool brown eyes open, no one greets him with a kiss or a hug; both his mothers now reside in the Cove, and the Caretakers of Hyaline are evidently busy. A good thing, most likely, considering that he'd trysted with the both of them during his younger years (read: less than like, eight Beqanna months ago).

    Alas, as he journeys onward, the bedraggled and sullen pegasus veers further south instead of soldiering east; while some might assume him to be on his way to visit his mothers, one thing tops even that need: the mountain. It looms triply as tall as the tallest peak in Hyaline, though Tephra's volcano nearly matches it for size. Thus, it is not necessarily the physical greatness of the mountain which renders Rhaegor somewhat shaken and uncertain, but the magic aspect of it; the boy, though young, knows what happens here. His mother Kagerus speaks of her adventures seldom, but with enough gravity that the boy fears this place: respects its infinite power, and its endless wisdom.

    A part of him wants to turn away as he comes; but the larger part, the one which always occupies his mind but never the world around him. Its voice rings angrily, needily, pressing him on although his plague-ridden body falters with every third step. The sound of his fatigued hooves scraping and tripping across the rock-strewn base of the mountain can be heard all around; but the trip from Tephra wears on even the healthy, and Rhaegor is far from that. When at last he arrives at the beginning of an incline, he stops for a moment, and considers.

    This could go very badly.
    Or, it could go well.
    I get around well enough as is.
    No, you don't.


    In the end, nothing the voice says to him changes his mind; instead, a powerful gust of wind sends him stumbling up the mountain. This is sign enough for the pegasus. To the Gods he shall journey.

    Within the first ten steps, he tastes iron. Funny, he thinks; I usually get nose bleeds. No other signs of distress leave him, even as the blood pools around his molars and gradually seeps from the delicate tissue lining his naturally pink lips. The warm liquid drips with every step, marking his grievously slow path up the mountain. As his lungs strain to drag in enough oxygen, and his heart struggles to pump it to his extremity's, that which surrounds Rhaegor's delicate organs shows with great detail through his dull yellow skin. Jagged and pronounced, one might wonder just how the stallion keeps himself together; but perhaps there is something to be said about the poignancy of immortality, or maybe one can simply put the stallion's actions down to pure mental prowess.

    After all, that is what he comes in search of.

    What feels like hours pass until finally he reaches an appropriate plateau. Only a narrow strip of ledge leads to it, however, and as the emaciated figure creeps across it, never daring to glance down, he is reminded of Chryseis, and of their secret plateau in Hyaline. With the image of his love standing with the wind cradling the delicate, beautiful features of her golden face, he swallows the last of his dread, surging forward the last few steps to the safety of the bare, wind-whipped rock.

    The howl of the moving particles ensures that no uttered words would ever be heard; but that is no new phenomenon to Rhaegor, whose voice virtually no one can hear. And every word he does speak? A struggle against the lump in physical lump in his throat and the mental one in his brain; a fight against an inborn anxiety which couples innately with use of his vocal chords. This anxiety the man keeps carefully under wraps, never letting on that to speak is so strenuous; to do so is not that hard, as he simply will not speak.

    Ironically, when he voices this to whichever Gods are listening, it is in the form of a thought.

    Please... Oh mighty ones... I come in with a need. I am unable to speak without undue mental and physical exertion, and my voice is an embarrassment to the gravity I attempt to apply to my words. I want to help cure this land, I want to help Tephra, Magnus has suggested that I pursue an advisory council position... How is a mute ever supposed to do something as grand as that without ever being able to speak? How does one give advice in silence?

    Please. I would give you the very wings off my back if only to be able to use my mind as a tool to exchange thoughts between myself and others... Wings I was born with. And I will do anything on top of that. Anything you ask.






    ...my name on your tongue and your tongue on my...



    So, it was suggested that I bring rhae to quest for telepathy, which I am now doing. However, he would have 7 spaces worth of traits if he is successful, so please tear his wings off or something. Make him a sad sad boy.
    [Image: rhae]
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    #2
    Finally, the heat of summer in Beqanna is fading. This faerie doesn’t particularly like heat, or summer, and she stays on the Mountain almost all of the time when heat grips the land, rather than walking amongst their people far below. It’s cool up here even on the hottest of days, but now every passing day she ventures lower and lower, breathing the sharp scent of autumn leaves with pleasant anticipation.


    But even when she does not walk the paths down the mountain, they do climb them. Perhaps it is a consequence of their involvement in trying to help save them from their own foolishness, from the horror that is the plague, but now they seem to have remembered the existence of the fae. This particular fairy has no real patience for those who come seeking healing – she is still angry about the one they murdered to unleash this, and thinks the steps they have put into place to heal the land are more than enough. Sometimes she feels remorse watching the very young suffer, but the adults, she couldn’t care less.


    Rhaegor is not here to ask healing from the plague, even though his illness is quite evident. He wants something else, something that intrigues her, and so she lands in front of him and flicks a navy-tipped ear forward even though the words aren’t spoken aloud. She waits to hear him out, weighing the words, the intent, flipping through his life with the solemn indifference of a judge, considering all the evidence. What he asks for is mostly personal, but it’s not for his own gain, not entirely.


    ’I will give you what you wish,’ she speaks the same way he does, not bothering to open her mouth. It wouldn’t make him more comfortable to hear it out loud, and he might as well get used to it, if he plans to succeed. Anyway, the cold wings have only increased due to her presence and she doesn’t want to have to shout. ‘For now, temporarily. Prove to me you will use it to better yourself and others, and then come back and I will find a way to make it permanent.’


    There’s probably a side effect – a headache, light sensitivity, seeing double; it’s different for everyone but forcing mental channels open doesn’t usually come cheap. But it’s rarely debilitating past a few hours, so she leaves him to deal with it and vanishes.
    Ice burns, and it is hard to the warm-skinned to distinguish one
    sensation, fire, from the other, frost.


    Rhaegor rolled a 4 and has been granted a quest.
    He has been temporarily given telepathy and needs to use it for at least one thread (3 posts) in such a way as to prove to the fairy that he will use such a gift to make the world a better place. He should come back when he feels he can prove that to the fairy.
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    #3

    Rhaegor

    the playboy

    Immediately upon finishing his interaction with Leilan, the plague-ridden boy hurried to the mountain. The journey from Nerine to this great structure takes next to no time, even in his ground-ridden state due to the plague's merciless toll on his once-magnificent wings. Their golden hue often appears darker and mottled these days, with the blue tips appearing practically black. This, however, concerns Rhaegor in the least as he travels; and by the time he makes it to the base of the mountain, he feels elated enough that he may as well have been flying, anyway.

    After all, if all goes well, he will walk away from this with a new gift to aid his life in every fathomable way.

    Faerie, he calls with his mind when he reaches the same plateau as his previous visit. He appears veritably more healthy, but were the faerie to peek in his body and his health, she would find the same rot and deterioration as the time before. Sometimes, one's outlook does truly determine their mood; and Rhaegor is subject to no exception from this. As he stands atop the rock face, shivering and prancing to keep warm, his cool brown eyes flash in every direction, anticipating the arrival of she who would confirm his success in the quest she granted him.

    Figuring that he ought not waste her time in waiting for her physical arrival - and banking on the hope that she mentally occupied this area at all times, anyway - he cleared his throat and began to unravel his experience.

    You told me to better myself and others, and it is my belief that I have done so. Before embarking on my quest, the woman I love, Chryseis, had been victim to a tyrant father, who saw fit to enforce his harsh laws upon her to such an extent that she became prisoner to her own land. In visiting her father, a few things happened. Well, to be honest, the encounter itself was far from pleasant, with accusations on both sides... But it ended in him welcoming me to the family, if a little regretfully. And I read in his mind that he will stop interfering in Chryseis' life. And I tried my best to reach out to him - now it is only a matter of time before I learn whether he and I can have any kind of relationship... But in regards to the quest you issued me, I can confidently say the following.

    Chryseis' is better off due to this interaction, having the freedom to do as she pleases, while still being welcome to a relationship with her father if she chooses to have one.

    Leilan has hopefully learned a valuable lesson on parenting, though I make no claim to knowing him to do that; I only claim to knowing how to love his daughter, and to wanting what's best for her.

    And as for myself... Well, I am better when Chryseis is better. With her in Tephra alongside me, I will be more able to focus on my kingdom duties, not having to always worry how she fares while stuck in Nerine. I will be more confident with this new gift, knowing that women and men alike will finally hear my true voice, instead of the shambling, shaking one which I must present when using my vocal chords.

    Faerie, I can only hope that you see things my way... As I said, I would do, and give, anything for this.






    ...my name on your tongue and your tongue on my...



    @[devin]

    http://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=22122&pid=86390#switch

    I have a to do list of ten bajillion, I hope this suffices!
    [Image: rhae]
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