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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


    Island Resort: Round 2
    #1
    ROUND 2
    More of them come than she expects: thirteen in all. The Island welcomes them: the bright blue sky, warm white sand, the cool breeze tousling their manes. They catch their breath, looking around. There are no shells on the beach where they landed, but they know their job is to find some for the fairies. To the right are the strange structures the Island is known for; to the left, the open, empty beach. Which direction do you continue?

    Rules
    -Round 2 entries are to be posted in Island Resort in the Quest thread no later than February 22nd at 5 PM CST.
    -Posts must be less than 500 words.
    -Your character must plainly choose which direction to go: right towards the structures, or left to the empty beach. You are not yet collecting seashells, just a direction to go. Your post should end with you reaching your destination, left or right.
    -Any wounds you suffered in Round 1 are still there.
    -@[Aten] since the first round wasn’t an elimination round, and you were close to the deadline (12 minutes off), I will let you continue.
    -Failing to respond on time or at all without notifying the officials will result in a permanent defect.
    may the odds
    be ever in your favor

    Reply
    #2
    If I never wash the sand from my feet...
    He turned from his beautiful future wifey number one, and now that he was looking out over the charming little island, he noticed something that looked relatively out of place. His brows tipped downward and his heart stilled, the ache of memories from a different life settling in a heavy pit in his chest.

    Yeah, yeah. He was supposed to be here for some seashells or something. But those structures were definitely man-made, human-made, they had to be. He couldn't stomp out the hope that maybe he'd find them again, maybe they could turn him back and he could find his way back home to Peru.

    He glanced over the bare beach, reasoning that there weren't any seashells in sight anyway and he didn't feel like digging under the surface to find the buried ones hidden like small treasures. His heart was set on those abandoned structures, the paint peeling off of old wood. He longed for some connection in this world. He still didn't feel he belonged, still hadn't brought himself to retry building some kind of relationship with his big brother.

    Blood dribbled from his shoulder as he walked, making his skin itch but he ignored it, his eyes firmly set on that piece of lost history before him. His cat, he missed his stupid cat. His friends. It hadn't been easy. He'd been through a lot. It wasn't like either of his parents had gone with him, but he'd survived and made a life for himself anyway.

    Then one day it was suddenly gone, the gift of his natural family placed before him and given to him almost like its own sort of quest. He sure as hell wasn't going to pass that up, even if he was struggling with a way to make it work, to learn more about them, more about himself and where he comes from.

    He swallowed and shook the thoughts from his head, reaching his muzzle out to hover near an old wooden wall and breathe in the stale scents left behind. Like he was. He wasn't going to give up. He'd be with his family. He just wanted to see a little bit of humanity for a moment.

    Lochwood



    367
    structures to the right
    Reply
    #3

    oh, this my weapon, this my loam. this my blood, this my bone.

    Brigade still bleeds as he stands on the beach.

    His breath comes back to him slowly, his wings falling back into the white feathers, but the tooth remains lodged in his shoulder and the saltwater dripping down his side does nothing to ease it. It is a constant, agonizing pain and he grits his teeth against it—grits his teeth against the waves of pain that hit him, that rides along his nerves and reminds him constantly of the battle with that monstrous creature of the deep.

    Slowly, painfully, the words of the faeries come back to him—his mental fog clearing. Seashells. He is meant to be finding seashells. Dazed, he begins to swing his head back and forth, grey eyes searching the pristine beach shore for something that would resemble the shells that are needed for the quest.

    But he sees nothing.

    Frustration manifests as a low, steady growl in his chest, something primal that rips through him, and he realizes that he has two choices to continue searching: he can go left to the beach (closer to the water and the creature that lies below the depths) or he can go right to whatever strange structures dot the island.

    Perhaps it is cowardice, perhaps it is simply a desire to go inland and explore, but regardless, he turns himself toward the right and begins to make his way toward the structures. Each step is agony as he moves forward—each step forces the tooth against the muscle and tissue—but he does his best to ignore it. He couldn’t give up now, not after already enduring so much. He couldn't just throw in the towel.

    So he draws on every last inch of his courage and his grit and he drags himself inward.

    To the structures and, hopefully, to the seashells that await.

    Reply
    #4
    Aten did not know exactly when he fell asleep upon his arrival on the Island Resort's beach, only that at some point he did since he woke up to a breeze blowing through his mane and the rising ocean tide brushing against his back hooves. The stallion wearily lifted his head, eyes half-open and barely taking in his surroundings. His entire body was in immense pain, the sting only made worse by the sea water that made contact with the open wounds he had.

    For a moment, Aten did not recall why he was here, until he looked around to see where he was. Other horses were here as well, two of them already breaking off and heading in search of what they had all come here to look for. The stallion racked his memories, and then recalled what he came here for: an ingredient for the Plague's cure, seashells apparently.

    He wanted to stay where he was and rest, try and sleep off the pain, but knew he could not afford to do so. He had a mission to fulfill here, and he couldn't just give up. Taking his time, the stallion hauled himself to his hooves, gingerly lifting each one at a time to test them and make sure they wouldn't give out beneath his weight.

    He took a moment to assess the wounds he could see; quite a number on his legs, along with two on his belly, already adding to his accumulation of burn scars. He also felt a large amount of pain on his left hindquarter, and he feared the worst from what he'd been attacked by. Despite his hesitation of the ocean, he stepped toward the water and turned to look at his reflection.

    Just as he thought, a small, but decent, piece of flesh was missing from his left hindquarter. It definately looked like some form of a bite mark, like a bird's rather than a big cat predator. Whatever had attacked him underwater, Aten was sure he did not want to run into them again.

    A breeze brushed through Aten's mane again and he turned away, unable to look at the damage he'd accumulated. He glanced back toward the other horses to see that the two he'd spotted before were now out of his sight, which left at least eleven, including Aten himself, to make a decision.

    It seemed simple enough, but could determine the outcome of this situation for better or worse. He figured someone would eventually find the ingredients no matter what direction they chose, but... worst case scenario...

    No, he couldn't think like that. The stallion assessed his options, his mind racing. The flat, open, empty-looking beach that could be hiding secrets beneath the sand, or the structures off to the right that had become talk of the island. He honestly didn't know...

    But he made his choice. Turning right, Aten headed on, limping slightly with every step but pushing himself to keep going anyways.
    Reply
    #5

    I'll be sitting here with a song that I wrote, saying
    love could change the world in a moment
    Blue is gonna be my new favourite colour. Next to gold of course - just look at the sands, inviting me over while they’re gleaming in the sun.

    I’m still catching my breath, since I’ve swam the last part on adrenalin rather than any training (I couldn’t have had any at my age) and of course I have been super scared by the sand monster. But that’s all in the past and my young mind doesn’t stay focused long enough to consider it might not be the only sand monster around. That quicksand is a natural thing occurring when water and fine sand fight for the same spot on the earth. The salt in the back of my throat is itchy while I breathe hard, practically gasp, and I cough a few times. The movement sends some water flying, my little body jerking a bit. But I’m not sick like other horses, I do think. But if I was, then surely this trip will help cure it! I know Papa has gone to get ice and my sister has gotten pebbles. We heard about flowers too, in our corner of the world, but the fairies couldn’t expect my family to run down from the North all the way South when they already said time was very short. But it is my turn now. Granted, they would not have given me permission, but I went anyway. I want to help, too.

    I take a few steps away from the water and then I spy movement, and the sand reveals a small crab. I giggle in childish glee as it walks sideways and think of how easily it had escaped the sand it was buried in. I shall take an example out of this funny creature, I think.

    There are other horses around, I smell them. When I finally look up from the sandy shore, I see that there are two places to go to. Left, where the beach is clean, and right, where wooden structures rise. I frown at the people going right. What do they hope to find there, that the beach, that nature, can’t give? Surely the prettiest shells are the ones that are hidden from the eye. Surely the prettiest shells are whole, and fresh.

    I follow my little crab friend, and sidestep to the beach on the left, looking down. My emerald gaze is pinned on the golden sand, my gold-spotted white hind still turned to the sea.

    It is a beautiful day but I am focused on my task. One might say that is an impressive feat for a young foal, but my crab friend and I have made it into a game.

    I came here to find the very prettiest of shells, and I will find them.

    And if I don’t, then at least I had some fun and made a new friend.
    but what do I know?
    Aodhán
    little fire
    Reply
    #6

    { and in my dreams i've kissed your lips a thousand times }

    If it weren't for the grievous wound suffered on the part of the shark just minutes ago, I might have labelled this quest the easiest of the four. No blizzard, no eldritch monster, no natural disaster, just gorgeous white sand and a clear blue sky overhead. I grunt as I gaze up at the firmament, eyes squeezed shut as I administer some sorely needed dream pain-relief. The effects could last from two minutes long to half an hour, but I don't have time right now to decipher which it will be, instead banking on the hope that it will be enough to get me to wherever I need to go.

    I open my eyes, shake away the sleep. My leg feels fine, but when I look back at it, its strange, crumpled form is more than enough to send a shot of anxiety through me.

    Velk will heal it later, I hear. Jolting, I look up with a shaken smile to find Panthera's angry amber gaze. For now, let's go - we're heading to the beach.

    Following with my eyes to the vaste whiteness that the leopard indicates, I momentarily hesitate. The last time, months ago when this all began up north in Icicle Isle, the correct path had been to the right; I had chosen wrong by going to the left. A part of me wants to follow the masses to the right once more, but when I look around myself at all those gathered, I glimpse only a small child heading to the beach. Something about that vision lends me solace.

    All right, I agree dispassionately, somewhat foggy due to the pain-relief I'd self-administered. Let's go.

    And, limping, we head to the left, toward the empty beach.

    KAGERUS


    Caretaker of The Sanctuary
    Lover of Solace
    Immortal, antlered Dreamweaver



    ""

    Kagerus goes left, to the empty beach.
    [Image: kag]
    dreamweaver
    Reply
    #7

    Glancing backward, Leander saw that the distant cloud of volcanic ash had abated, though a faint rumbling could still be heard across the waters. Perhaps the fatefully-timed eruption had been sheer luck – and perhaps it hadn’t – whatever the case, Lee wasn’t about to ask questions. With a sharp twist of his head, droplets of seawater were flung one way and then another as he took stock of the surrounding beach.

    Blood oozed freely from the punctures upon his left hind cannon. The wound also ran with saltwater, the sting of it quite palpable now that he had regained some semblance of an even breath. Even though the sudden terror of drowning was seemingly behind him, Leander didn’t dare to let his guard down entirely. He kept a sharp eye as he momentarily considered his options.

    Then, flaring his wings, he turned to the right and became airborne.

    While flying saved him the trouble of limping along on an injured leg, he still winced as salt-dampened feathers glanced across the shallow gashes that had opened upon his back. Before him, the outlines of the odd structures that had first caught his gaze shimmered slightly in the heat. Something about the irregular shapes seemed to beckon him – though Leander could only hope that this meant the seashells he needed were somewhere ahead.



    leander
    take a bullet to the heart just to keep you safe; like a dream in my arms but i’m wide awake

    Reply
    #8

    you are miles away but i still feel you

    Hestoni’s mind eases at the sight of the empty ocean where the outcropping of stone amid waves had been. As his heartrate decreases, the russet is suddenly able to hear the noises of the forest behind him slowly growing louder. Pieces of the present-world begin to put themselves together, formulating a puzzle that crowds out the memories of the creature and her seducing words. The sky is bright and as blue as the shine of Scorch’s dragon-eyes in the night. The sand beneath his feet is damp from the drip of his soaked body, yet the ivory grains are warmed by the heat of the sun. A cool breeze is already beginning to dry the thickest tendrils of his dreadlocked mane.

    Although he’d been lost in the heat of the moment between the siren and his panic-induced swim from the outcropping to the shoreline, the russet remembers his original purpose. This is furthered by the sights of many different faces who also heard the call of the fairy and responded accordingly. It brings the slightest hint of a smile to Hestoni’s mouth to think that there are others in Beqanna who are willing to search far and wide for the cure.

    And yet they come to a crossroad. They are all determined to find the seashells; while the shadows and symphony from the forest sounds appealing to Hestoni, he knows he will not find the treasure among the leaves and brush. Seashells are found upon the seashore, among the seaweed rafts and white-feathered gulls. There are two beaches for Hestoni to choose from, and the giant swings his head one way and then the other before deciding.

    Perhaps the shells of the ocean will wash against the odd structures and lodge themselves there. They might erode away beneath the weight of the endless waves and fierce salt. Or perhaps the shells might be found in a wide expanse of an unexpected corner. Hestoni’s face pulls into a frown for a moment, considering each option. Several of the travelers have chosen the beach toward the structures while a child and a mare have turned toward the empty beach.

    In Hestoni’s experience, Beqanna truly enjoys tricking them into seeking out the unexpected.

    So the russet titan turns toward the expanse of the empty, clear beach.

    hestoni



    words: 383
    hestoni goes left (the empty beach)
    Reply
    #9
    Hm. Well. Nocturne looked around, scanning the beach nearby for any shells. That was where they lived, yeah? On beaches? But this one had none, not even a teeny tiny shell to be found so far. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed it, either. People started splitting off, heading left toward open beach or right toward some weird land formations he didn’t recognize, until there were only a few of them left. It felt like a guessing game: scour more open beach for shells, or hope some got like...caught up in the odd shape of the land to the right as the tide went out, maybe?

    He tilted his head, frowning and studying the strange structures for a long moment, then glanced back to the left and stared after the people who’d headed toward more open beach. But he couldn’t think of a reason why the right would be any different from where he’d landed, and maybe the funny land shapes would’ve caught something, made some tide pools that might hold happy little shells or--well, he didn’t really know. But there was nothing for it but to pick and see where it took him.

    The path to the right made the most sense, so he wasn’t really sure why he turned left. There was no rhyme or reason, just a feeling. Maybe because more people were headed to the right, and it made sense to divide as evenly as possible? Sure. Honestly, he wasn’t really sure why he chose left, just when his feet started moving, they took him toward the open beach instead.
    Reply
    #10
    Bright

    She takes longer than some to pull herself back together. But she stands regardless, brushing the sand from the dark purple of her skin as she takes a minute to find herself again. The sun is warm, like a blanket of heat over her shoulders and the soft line of her spine, drying her mane in soft curls that hold with the film of the salt still there. It is only once the adrenaline pounding wide rivers through her veins finally slows, her heart no longer threatening to rip through the paper of her chest, that her attention returns to the task at hand.

    The group who made it across the sea to the island have split into two seperate directions. Half to the left, to an expanse of beach that is bare and open to the sky for as far as she can see. The other half to the right, to a beach half-hidden beneath a cluster of structures she does not recognize.

    Logically speaking, shells should be literally anywhere out here on the beach. But as she looks down towards her feet with furrows in her brow, she realizes this is not the case. The beach is bare and white sediment, grains of silk sifting beneath her like the shushing of the wind. Which likely meant that there would be nothing different about the beach to the left, wide open just like this spot. Not unless some kind of underwater current had an inlet up that way to carry the shells from deeper places.

    But it seemed more reasonable to look for a place different than this spot, and the structures to the right are about as different as she could have asked for. So she turns right without another word, moving stiffly down the shore as her wounds are woken up and begin their gnawing protests.

    My touch is black and poisonous and nothing like my punch-drunk kiss



    bright goes right to the structures
    Reply




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