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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


    things could be stranger but I don't know how; ivar, any
    #1

    desire consumes me like a fire consumes me

    Magnus has allowed the events concerning Ischia to simmer in the back of his mind for a while now. He remembers when the lavender mare had returned, eyes steely. He remembers when the members had arrived on his borders, attempting to persuade one of his own to return and take a position of power. It has not settled well with him, leaving him uneasy and causing the golden King to spend a good amount of time on the beach, angling his head toward the waters, wondering just what lies beyond the sea.

    For a while, he has not taken the bait, not bitten down on the lead, simply because he has had enough to take care of in the immediate vicinity. However, enough time has passed that he can no longer ignore what he knows lives out in the ether. So when the sun rises, so does he. Tephra remains wrapped in the light of dusk, the edges of her shadows blurred and the land quiet with mist rising from the water. 

    He walks amongst the sleeping residents, moving silently as he finds the path to the beach.

    When he reaches the water, he slips in, feeling the gentle press of the waves as he moves forward. Soon, his legs leave the sand and they begin to churn beneath him as he makes the relatively easy swim to the other kingdom. Still, when he finally pulls himself on that beach, his crushed gold body damp with the saltwater and the brine, he is breathing deeply and evenly, the sweat gathering on his crest.

    He hasn’t asked any one else to join him on this journey, not willing to risk anyone else’s safety for a trip with an outcome he cannot predict, but neither does he bar anyone else from joining.

    Instead, he simply stands on the beach, gold-flecked eyes steady, breathing even, and his nerves just barely fluttering on the edges, his war-trained body ready for whatever will greet him.

    good shouldn’t need to tempt us above



    @[Ivar] - i figured they should chat IC about the relationship between tephra and ischia.
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    #2
    The kelpie leaves a damp trail as he moves through the dark woods, dripping water from his scaled sides and tangled hair. The freshwater pools that litter Ischia's interior are less preferable to the tricolor creature than the open sea, but he yields to his wife's whims from time to time, and last night had been such an occasion. Now he heads back to the saltwater, following a path that he knows well. The sapphire blue kelpie ducks beneath a drooping vine, and a trio of parrots chatter halfhearted sleepy protests at the disturbance. They are near enough for a snack, but the toothsome Ivar knows from experience that they are more feather than meat, and so leaves them to the feline predators that have begun to roam the island recently.

    In no hurry, the tobiano horse makes his way to the beach, expecting to find empty sand and a faintly glowing horizon. Instead there is a golden stranger standing there, and Ivar draws up short, half-emerged from the jungle, a wary expression on his pale face.

    The wind had not been in his favor, and the kelpie does not enjoy surprises. Still, he has been out of the sea long enough to remember the necessity of politics, which he assumes must be what has brought this stallion here. He smells of Tephra, Ivar has found as he has approached, and wonders if perhaps this is who Jhene and Carwyn had met on their mission to the volcanic kingdom.

    "Can I help you?" asks the kelpie. Despite the blase expression that the sea creature wears, his tone is as inquisitive as it is charming, a fitting match to a face that is impossible alluring even when clear of emotion. The sharp teeth in his too-wide mouth glint as he speaks, and the dark scars across his brightly colored coat suggest that he is more than a pretty face though, and he makes no effort to hide this from the stallion. He can be appropriately polite, but no amount of time out of the saltwater will give the kelpie enough patience to openly welcome strange men to his home.

    @[Magnus]
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    #3

    although this world is made of fearsome beasts that bark and bite
    we were born to put these creatures through one hell of a fight

    Something like distrust strikes the back of his throat at the first sight of the kelpie.

    He has no immediate reason for it, nothing to spark it except the way Karat had looked when she had come back, but he tucks it away for later. Even though his scarred fingers want nothing more than to grab onto the hilt of a sword, he remains relaxed for now, forcing his handsome face into neutral lines, nothing threatening in his stance of expression. Ivar is unlike anything he has ever seen before, and after more than a century of wandering the many iterations of Beqanna, Magnus has been able to see a lot. But he cannot recall a time when he has ever seen something like the scaled, shark-toothed stallion before him.

    It is not the first time that Magnus has realized that he is to hold his own against one who is naturally disposed with gifts that he could only dream of. Except a brief, awkward stint with kingdom-granted wings, and a newfound gift of immortality in his veins, Magnus has never wielded the kind of gifts that are now so abundant. He can neither command the oceans nor pull elements from thin air. He has nothing except a body trained past the point of its natural abilities and the sweat on his brow and his experience.

    It has to be enough, he reminds himself, locking eyes with the kelpie.

    As always, it has to be enough.

    “I figured it was far past time for me to come introduce myself.” His grin is lopsided, his pulse even and his gold-flecked eyes friendly, regardless of the instincts firing within him. “My name is Magnus. I am the current leader of Tephra.” There is a pause, the seabreeze picking up and ruffling his mane. He lets the silence stretch, watches the other with a steady gaze, his war-scarred coat still drenched with the sea.

    Finally, he breaks the quiet.

    “I think it would be useful to discuss the relationship between our two lands.”

    magnus



    @[Ivar]
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    #4
    Magnus' smiling is telling.

    Exactly what it says, Ivar is unsure, but he feels no instinctive urge to drive the golden stallion away, and instead settles his weight more evenly in the dawn-cool sand. The kelpie doesn't quite smile in return, but the curiosity in his tone has shifted to his expression as well. Tilting his sapphire head, the golden-eyed creature listens as the leader of Tephra introduces himself. Ivar is content to let the silence after this announcement stretch indefinitely, but Magnus breaks it with a proposition.

    It's to be politics, then, and a good thing Ivar had not driven him away without a word.

    Ischia has sent no envoys to other lands. They never will, at least not under Ivar's command, because the scaled kelpie has little interest in such things. He'd wanted Karat, partially for her willingness to deal with such things, but the purple mare had slipped from between his fingers.

    Since he's not yet been able to retrieve her, this situation is of his own making, and he knows he must deal with it. Well, that or kill Magnus and style himself king of the East, taking Karat back by force. It's an appealing idea, for the moment that it lasts, but the kelpie has no true interest in it. He's satisfied with what he has, after all, and sloth has always been one of his more powerful personality traits.

    "It might be," he agrees aloud. "Did you have something particular in mind?" For all his preference for the open sea, Ivar is not unfamiliar with the minutiae of alliances and treaties. It is his familiarity - and of course, his instinctive drive for something different - that makes him less than fond. "If it matters, the envoys from the East already offered an alliance." He says this as if to be helpful, but doesn't mention if he'd accepted the offer.

    @[Magnus]
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    #5

    although this world is made of fearsome beasts that bark and bite
    we were born to put these creatures through one hell of a fight

    It is not an entirely unkind interaction, but Magnus cannot help but think that the too-handsome stallion is well-conceived dagger. One misstep and he’d find the blade to his throat, he’s sure. It is not enough to strike fear in his heart—although, perhaps, enough to send a skitter of excitement across his veins—but he  remembers it all the same. Perhaps in another situation, perhaps if his first impression of the kelpie had not been a wide-eyed daughter of Tephra returning to the volcanic isle and the kelpie’s envoys arriving on his beach coming to spirit her away again, perhaps then he may have found a comrade in Ivar. Perhaps in time the distrust will simmer and he will find something within the other’s wild heart worth befriending.

    Or, perhaps, he will spend each interaction with measured words and a careful eye.

    He doesn’t know, doesn’t think on it too much. He just keeps a steady gaze, not attempting to dance around the subject. “I intend to keep Tephra as the kingdom of the West,” he is blunt, straightforward, but not unkind in his delivery. He just doesn’t see the point in pretending to have different intentions when he knows exactly what he wants. “I would like to keep our relationships with both Ischia and Island Resort to be cordial or even symbiotic if that interests you..” A pause. “If you want to remain a herd and an independent land then I will leave you to your devices—but if you would like to take up the banner as a territory, I would like to work with you, in whatever capacity interests you.” He studies the other quietly.

    “I have no desire to have a say in how you run your home and have little interest in fashioning Tephra as the crown jewel in a super-kingdom in the West. But three strong lands united is better than three that quarrel amongst themselves.” A roll of his shoulders, a flash of crooked smile, as he waits and watches.

    magnus



    @[Ivar]
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    #6
    Ivar appreciates the buckskin’s bluntness, his firm intention to keep Tephra as the monarchy of the west. Ivar, who considers himself a king of whatever body of what he is in, does not especially care what sort of titles they wear on land. If Magnus wishes to be the king of his volcano, Ivar won’t begrudge him that.

    When the other stallion pauses, having just voiced the possibility of a symbiotic relationship between them, Ivar says nothing. He does flick his ears forward, as though waiting for Magnus to continue, a clear sign that he is listening, if not especially responsive. Magnus wishes the west to form a united front but Ivar is apathetic. He thinks himself strong enough to face any threat and relishes quarrels, but he is not in the mood for one today. Not when he is satiated and there is a possibility that peace – even a tentative one – might lure a certain greyed lavender mare from Tephra back to the shores of Ischia.

    “We’ll direct our aggression away from Tephra,” Ivar finally says. It’s not quite Magnus had hoped for, Ivar is sure, but the kelpie considers it a worthwhile sacrifice. “I think the new leader of Island Resort will be more inclined to return my possessions than the last was, so I doubt we’ll have issues there either.”  Ivar has always been polite enough to keep his teeth away from Castile’s women, after all; he expects the same courtesy in return.

    The genetic compulsion to keep his word when speaking on land is to Magnus benefit, though the buckskin won’t ever know. Ivar also doesn’t consider his intentions toward Karat to be aggressive, though he’s not made any effort to hide his interest in the lavender mare. He’s been occupied on the island of late, but he is easily bored and Tephra is not so terribly far away.
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    #7

    although this world is made of fearsome beasts that bark and bite
    we were born to put these creatures through one hell of a fight

    Despite his misgivings about the other stallion, that distrust that simmers beneath the flesh, there is something blunt about him that Magnus can appreciate, as well. Even something that stirs the rogue within him, the warmonger that has always hungered a little too much for bloodshed. His gold-flecked eyes spark at Ivar’s words. He nods. “I can ask no more of you.” Of course, that’s not quite the truth. If Magnus was a different stallion, he could demand more. He could try and throw his weight around.

    But he has no interest in being the police of the west.

    No interest in trying to curb Ivar’s appetite so long as the aggression does not hurt his own.

    He rolls his scarred shoulder, ears perking momentarily at the mention of a new leader at the Island Resort and groaning internally at it. He had just been there. Would he have to travel back to see who now wore the crown? It doesn’t matter, and he doesn’t voice such grumblings now. Instead he just gives a crooked smile to the kelpie king, not pressing him about whatever his possessions may be.

    Should it boil up that there was serious injustice happening on the island, Magnus would revisit it.

    Should cruelties make themselves known, he would rethink it.

    For now though, he just nods his head. “I’m glad that we were able to come to an agreement.” Whatever that may be and in whatever form it may be. He rolls his shoulder. “I won’t take up any more of your time.” A step back as he begins to make his way back to the water and his home.

    “I look forward to our next visit…” his voice trails off as he grasps for the stallion’s name, whiskey voice breaking out in a laugh. “I just realized I never learned your name.” He pauses, waiting for that one bit of information, a final seal on the tenuous relationship, before he truly leaves for his own Tephran shores.

    magnus



    @[Ivar] - we can end it here if you're cool with just assuming ivar tells him his name and they say goodbye.

    or you can reply because i'm always happy for more ivar words.

    totally up to you. <3
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