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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


    but i can still remember just the way you taste; any
    #1
    lior

    Winter had come to drape it's cold upon the residents of Beqanna, uninvited and unwelcomed for it did not extinguish the threat of the plague. Lior is roused from his slumber, a pile of hair and blissful snores, one lid slides open to expose the silver-white of his waking eye. The usual dark of his solitary cave is now bleeding soft gold across the ceiling and he remarks with a rumbling 'hmpf' of observation. 

    With a grunt of effort, Lior pushes himself up on his elbow, opening his mouth slowly and making smacking noises as he shook away the long sleep's gentle pleas to return. His thoughts are on his wife and children almost immediately and he needs to find them, to collect and rekindle the bond they all share and bring them all together once more. A single dark leg shoots out, dust plumes to trace the motion as the other leg follows to pull the tall man up and to his heavy hooves. A variety of pops and creaks mock him musically as he stretches to his full capacity. A slow thud-thud of his cracked and peeling hooves echo vividly in the small space of his stone home. The pale eyes trace the honey comb patterns of peeking sun as he exits the safety of his cave.

    Snow has already fallen, early and eager, the flakes are ripe and thick with a generous coating across the mouth of the cave and the leaf carpeted forest floor. Now peaks and crevices where the uneven decayed vegetation are the only tell-tale signs of a vivid autumn sunburst. The stallion hesitates a moment, then two, before edging into the sunlight. The peals of gold hungrily engulf the once black man but now he is exposed as the silver-blue of new gun mental. The inky darkness still swathed his legs and hair but he is changed to any face who may have known him before. Against it all, and perhaps the most shocking, is that his eyes are now a pale silver of a full moon, seeming to float against the darkness of his hair and face.

    He sighs heavily, looking to the west where the sun lingered still, coyly dipping behind clouds of pastel. The man had thought it was sunrise but instead it was sunset. His eye regards it all with a press of his whiskered lips before moving on with slow, deliberate movements. Others still lingered in Beqanna and Lior intended to question the first one he found of where Nayl and the children were. He had never claimed to be a good father or husband but surely his family still missed him and he had a lot of apologizing to do.

    but i can still remember just the way you taste

    Reply
    #2
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    Castile adopted a nomadic lifestyle years ago, but it has since peaked with the plague’s arrival. Their world is in disarray, and rather than solidify his place anywhere, he has occupied himself by wandering place to place locating his own children. Easily enough, the infection seeped into his veins and webbed across his muscles. It has weakened him, but not stopped him.

    Truthfully, he should have remained on the Island where it’s safe from the pestilence, and yet something urged him to still roam with endless wanderlust.

    Wintry gusts buffet his body as he soars below the clouds with his mismatched eyes fallen on the trees below. Hunger churns within him, sharpening his vision as he scours for a meal. It has been long, far too long, since blood last spread across his tongue (weeks, he unhappily recalls). A primal need for it drives him deeper into the forest where he finally spirals in a gradual descent until his hooves heavily alight on the leaf beds. His wings immediately close to his sides and his teeth instinctually sharpen. He is prepared to hunt until a scent withdraws him from the predatory mindset. It rattles him initially, more in disbelief than anything else. Much to his confusion, there isn’t a hulking black stallion lumbering among the trees.

    But how can his senses deceive him?

    Castile pauses thoughtfully. His head turns left, then right, but he sees only a gunmetal blue male shaking away his slumber. He is prepared to retreat farther into the depths of the forest, but his eyes continue to dart back to the male until his curiosity bests him. Looming toward the figure, he is prepared to say hello in order to suppress the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. An introduction nearly tingles the thin line of his lips expectantly until he draws in another deep breath.

    It can’t be true, but his senses can’t possibly be so distorted.

    A breath catches in Castile’s throat as he stops in front of the stallion, his expectations thrown aside as he stares into Lior’s face, knowing it’s him in the way only a son can. ”Dad?”


    castile



    @[Lior]
    Reply
    #3
    lior

    The male looms like the dark shadow against a blaze of settling sunlight. The orange glints over the blue-grey of his skin to create a murky smudge over one scarred hip. He pauses a moment to scent the air but there is another body lurking dangerously close. It is male, it is painted in a contrast of two opposing colors, it is his son quite clearly but Lior allows the distance to float between them.

    The man knows his offspring easily by the make of their bodies and the salt of their skin. They are the strong blood of he and Nayl.

    Dragonborn.

    The heavy male continues his movement after the small pause, a small touch of a smile pulls at his whiskered lips before- "Dad?", the boy remembers him.

    Lior stops his progression abruptly before he turns with the creak and pop of an older stallion. Lior had been once blackened by the night's embrace but now he has emerged as a metallic blue-grey. The pale eyes seem to float beneath the tangled hair of his wide brow. "Son." The word is offered with a grunt but his features reflect his happiness despite his lack of open expression. Lior does not hesitate to close space between them, gathering his boy to him in a heavy embrace.

    Lior surprises himself that he has initiated the hug but it felt good to have his one and only boy so close to him. "So much has changed." The man murmurs as he breaks the connection to them, looking over how Castile has grown to be such a handsome boy, a true dragon. "Where is your mother...sisters?" He demands the answers gently but with a straight gaze, he does not mean to push the child (not a child now...a man) but he asks knowing he may or may not receive an answer. He had been unconscious and silent for so long.

    but i can still remember just the way you taste



    @Aeris
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