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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


    i've never fallen from quite this high; anyone
    #11
    As Aegean asnswers Astarielle’s query about his antlers, Pteron breathes a quiet lungful of the damp air. It is crisp with seasalt in a way that reminds him of the seashore of his childhood. The southern sands had been warm and nearly-tropical, but this Silver Cove is more cool stone and tall peaks than softly waving meadows. And it is Silver Cove, the amethyst-eyed Aegean says now. Pteron observes the hard chalk edges of the antlered colt as he gestures at the kingdom around them and then invites them to see more.

    “Yes, please.” He says, his voice in chorus with that of the spotted filly beside him. There is excitement behind Pteron’s olive eyes and it tenses the muscles beneath his dun coat. “I’d love to see more.” Is the answer to Star’s request for confirmation, just in case his first words hadn’t been heard over the bright chatter of his fellow visitor. As he speaks, the hard silk of his feathers is jostled slightly by a touch from the titian girl. Pteron glances toward them with a faint smile, but is quickly engrossed in the sudden color changes she exhibits. First his own pattern and then Aegean’s white and back to her own peppering of clementine on white.

    It is a novel thing to the young pegasus, and his eyebrows raise curiously. He will have to ask her more about that, Pteron decides. How does she do it? Can she be any color or is she limited to mirroring the hue of those around her? The myriad of questions ends only when he forces it out of his mind, turning his attention back to the other boy.

    “Lead the way,” Pteron adds with a mild smile in the soft tenor of his voice.

    @[Astarielle]
    @[aegean]
    Reply
    #12

    love is my religion. i could die for that.

    Aegean has never been one to play host before—always more interested in the contents of his own head than truly stepping into his role as prince of a kingdom beneath his two mothers. Still, he finds that his temporary hold of the position delights him and he looks forward to helping unveil all of the beauty within Silver Cove for the two before him. They are each beautiful, in their own way, and kind, and his heart beats for such things—enamored with both beauty and compassion—and thus it beats for them.

    When they accept his offer of a tour, his dreamy smile curves a little wider, a little brighter, although the white of his teeth are lost against the impossible white of his coat and the milky light that surrounds him. “How wonderful,” he breathes, androgynous voice silvery in the space between them. He turns his head toward the water and then back to the stone, before glancing back to them and nodding at them to follow.

    For a moment, he takes a deep breath, youthful chest expanding on the inhalation of air, before he turns his attention back to them, snagging on their eyes like a thread on a thorn. “I would like to show you the coves,” he says quietly, not shy, but almost reverent—worshiping the natural beauty that has carved them out of the rock and the land. Then, without waiting for them to agree or disagree, he turns his pale head toward them and begins to make his way across the beaches, his rocky hooves leaving crescent moons in the sand behind him. “They are beautiful,” he says, letting the wind carry his voice back to him.

    “Especially when the tide is low like this, but we will need to hurry.”

    i could die for you.



    @[Astarielle] @[Pteron]
    Reply
    #13

    this house is rust and wreckage, holding on by just a hope
    but I believe in dust and magic and every word you ever wrote

    If he had asked her about her coat she would have shrugged. Normally she did it without noticing it. Whatever color she was looking at when she was especially excited, she mimicked. She supposed she had created her own color when she had mimicked Cleave, mixing some grey and black and orange like embers. It would have been much more interesting if she could make the orange glow like actual fire.

    Anyways, she is momentarily robbed of her words. She is excited and it shows again in another brief flash of color, this time more along the blue of the water and color of the sand beneath their hooves. She keeps up with him and Pteron, quiet with eyes wide and intrigued. She drinks in his words, drinks in everything she can see with her eyes and her hooves dance along beneath her.

    Exuberant. It was a word that described her well. There was a bustling of energy always just boiling beneath the surface of her coat. Her hooves had springs attached the bottoms and so she bounced as they walked, as they hurried to a place that made its own residents speak of it in awe. She did manage to keep her body parts to herself, eyes too curious on what Aegean was going to show them to think past more than just what was ahead.

    It was an adventure, like those stories her momma had told her about. And boy was she so excited. It couldn’t be said enough.

    Astarielle


    @[Pteron] @[aegean] Yay this sucks! -_-
    Reply
    #14
    There is something in the way he says the word - coves - as though it is a treasure, something different than the easy way he’d said the same word when confirming the name of the kingdom. The reverence piques Pteron’s curiosity, and the soft blue of his ears swivel forward with obvious interest. He is intrigued and follows without thought, not needing the reassurance that they are beautiful, but smiling quietly to himself when he hears it anyway. Astarielle is all but vibrating beside him, and the tobiano colt glances toward her. He  is as excited as she, though it is less apparent in the way he strides along behind Aegean.

    It is his senses that are active, taking in each new sight and smell and sound with insatiable curiosity. Pteron’s home is filled with a great diversity of plant life, but there is novel greenery here. Like the delicately furled fern that he cannot help but slow his pace for, dipping his head so that the pale whiskers at the end of his nose just barely brush against its fronds.  Catching up to the pair takes only a stride at a quicker trot.

    Astarielle has changed color while he was busy taking in the scenery. Instead of orange on white she reflects the sand and the sea. The blue is nice, he thinks, before craning his head up higher to glance ahead of them. He is eager to see these coves that the antlered colt is taking them toward, especially given that their time to do so is growing ever shorter.

    “How much farther is it?” He asks. It would be quicker to fly, but to do so would be to lose not only his guide but also the company of the two young horses beside him. Pteron is certainly unwilling to do that, so he contents himself with taking in what he can see from where they are.

    @[Astarielle]
    @[aegean]
    Reply
    #15

    love is my religion. i could die for that.

    Aegean cannot begin to imagine what it must be like to have such energy as Astarielle. He has never been one to express himself in such ways, has never been one to emote quite as much as she does, but that does not mean that he does not enjoy it. In fact, he enjoys it quite a bit. He enjoys watching the ways that she unfurls like a flower, turning her face toward the sun. He enjoys the way that she vibrates with her joy, the way that it shows in every inch of her, flooding outward as if by the mere force of her very presence.

    Still, he grows increasingly calm before it, drawing inward, pulling into the secret corners of himself.

    He remains pleasant and engaged, but there are pieces the retreat into the solitude of his mind.

    He does not say such things though, or even hint toward the introversion of his nature curling into itself. Instead, he just continues onward down the shores, hooves leaving crescent moons in his path. As they inquire, he just smiles, a ghost of a smile that tips his lips upward. “Oh, it is not far now.” His eyes linger on Pteron’s face, finding a curious need to find out more, before looking back to the path ahead.

    It does not take long before the path narrows and then opens up into the beauty of the cove.

    The water is calmer here, and he cannot help himself from wading into it, something of grey storms still lingering in the hue and mood of the waves as they wash up the shore. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just letting the ocean wash up against his chest, his pale, milky glow reflected in the tide.

    When he does turn his antlered head back to them, the smile remains.

    “So, what do you think?”

    i could die for you.



    @[Astarielle] @[Pteron]
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