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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


    got to break free; any
    #1
    He had to get out. 
    Just had to.
    Couldn’t suffer one more moment of idle uselessness and lack of purpose besides being a prince. More like a pauper even amongst the impressive and ever-growing brood of siblings that his mothers sucked out of creation. He felt careless and wild, in ways that he never had as he forsook the cove and delighted in this sense of newfound freedom.

    He just had to break free.
    Couldn’t say from what - stagnation, maybe. His life was going nowhere, and fast! He’d put on some muscle but still looked small and effeminate for a grown colt. Felt small too, in such a vast obnoxious world. Like he didn’t know his place because he had no interest in politics, plague, or the other tedious nonsense his siblings and mothers delighted in.

    Even love!
    Once, he had loved to explore. To play and runs nd laugh with Will and Rhae. Now, he is aloof and quick to snap. Even the thought of beautiful Lyss in the cove’s surf isn’t enough to stay him. He feels a hot itch beneath his skin, like he needs to remove it and air it out in the sun; so he stretches his legs out for a good run and finds himself slowing once he notices to land changing from a familiar blue to the unfamiliar.

    Great, the meadow.
    His blue eyes look around but he has no expectations; it’s just a space occupied by snippets of sound from overheard conversations and looks quickly given then forgotten. Sviko is just happy to be standing there, a little sweaty and sweet-faced. 
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    #2

    for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
    in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle

    Another year is rolling by, another summer gone. Its funny how she counts the years from summer to summer, recalling with a fond sadness the slowly growing distance between now and her first hot season in Beqanna.

    Its funny, but the plague has given her a kind of freedom she did not realize when they had first learned of it. She is not one of those who hides, and she has grown used to occasions of weakness an the bloody noses that accompany them. She is thin, but somehow manages to look more svelte than emaciated this time of year, when she's had a long summer of good food (and those sweet plums she smells of that would have made her fat were she well). This is probably something she should thank the fairies for, though she is ill she is still exceptionally lovely thanks to their gifts. It is nice to continue to go wherever she pleases, instead of trying to avoid infection.

    A stream carries her down out of the mountains, and she re-materializes in the fetlock deep water with a shiver. Traveling this way gets rather chilly. She climbs out of the rocky stream-bed and rolls herself a little dryer in the yellowing grass and bracken and the lies still to listen to the sounds the meadow carries her way.

    Kensa is nearly dozing when the breeze carries the scent of Silver Cove her way. Surprised she sits up and scans the meadow with bright topaz eyes. She doesn't see Sviko until she gets to her feet, and it takes a moment for the sabino to recall the prince's name. Her regret for this lapse of memory motivates her cross through the long green-yellow grass, her gold trimmed ears pricked. "Hello, Sviko." He likely knows who she is, but she is not so vain to assume. "I'm sorry, we have never actually spoken. I'm Kensa."

    kensa
    for every dreamer, a dream. we're unstoppable with something to believe in.

    @[Sviko]
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    #3
    Summer is gone, he notes with not quite a look of interest but there’s some unreadable expression sitting on his face. It has been long gone, but he’s able to face the bluthering briskness that hints at a winter not too far off with his head held high as he came through the autumn season unscathed. No grandchildren this year!

    Perhaps his mothers both, will be glad of that. Not that he presumed they’d notice much that doesn’t go on in his lackadaisical life. Kagerus and Solace leave him alone, as most of his siblings do and to be frank - he’s glad of it. It makes him think he’s more like his elusive uncle Svedka than ever.

    Mayhap that is why he is so wild and restless - -
    Virginal, suffering from pent-up hormones and frustrations that he cannot even begin to name. Most would be silly anyway, like a lack of friends or lining for the closeness of the once-holy trinity that was the infamous kaglace triplets. These are the things that are within his control to change but he doesn’t, he eyes the meadow and sniffs the air instead before rubbing the side of his face against his leg.

    The grown colt hasn’t been paying attention, rather lost in thought so he almost doesn’t notice his name being called or the smell of plums that precede her coming. She is gorgeous to look at, and he knows that’s a remnant of the damn hormones talking —

    (though she was lovely either way, he just took greater notice at the moment because of the sudden testosterone surge that occurred in him!)

    He struggles to place her familiarity for just a moment, doubting childhood memories that are tied up tight in pretty bows of mother-made dreams and sibling adventures. The kinds of things that settle his hormones and fill him with a languid happiness as he bobs his head at her. “Probably never officially met either, until now.” Sviko acknowledges with a smile that lights up his blue eyes.

    Of course he knows of her! Has even seen her but thinks more of her in terms of how his mothers hold her in high esteem. Interesting to think that one day, he could be addressing her as the king to her lovely little subkingdom that held his birthplace and such fond childhood memories for him. But Sviko isn’t the kind to dwell on stuff like that for too long, or even lord it up over her - he’s a good boy at heart, as kind and quiet as a mouse unlike his more boisterous siblings.

    “What brings you so far from Hyaline?” he is curious, faintly so because now he’s thinking of how he’s tried so hard to be the only plague-free child and here he is, gallivanting about in the plague-ridden air and planning a trip to his birthplace because he hasn’t been back since the end of Will’s summer party. If he remembers right, she’d been there too.

    @[Kensa] <3
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    #4

    for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
    in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle

    Sviko immediately strikes her as calm and gentle in nature, perhaps he isn’t but first impressions being what they are she feels at ease at once in the company of the young stallion. It does not occur to her to compare him to his brother, whom she hasn’t seen in years, or his sister, who spurned Clayton and sent him into Kensa’s welcoming embrace. He is a prince yes, but she is a Lady, a Primarch of the East and her opinion is not altered by titles, or by her opinion of either of his mothers. He is simply Sviko, a boy she’d known in passing but never actually met, and now she is happy to meet him.

    Kensa refrains from extending her muzzle in greeting, but says “I think you’re right, I’m glad to remedy that. How are you? Healthy. She thinks, hence the small distance she keeps though he must know he was at risk the moment he left the cove. She won’t touch him and increase his chance of infection all the same...though she knows all too well it may already be too late. The plague’s greatest danger seems to be the fear it instills. She is not afraid anymore.

    “Nothing in particular. Just a change of scenery.” She could have said she needed a break from any number of things but it wouldn’t be true. Kensa just loves to get out and enjoy the world. “And you Sviko? It does surprise me whenever I see anyone from the Cove outside of it’s borders.” When she says this her face is calm and absent any kind of judgement, she doesn’t expect those from the Cove to observe any kind of stringent precautions or to throw themselves into danger… at least not anymore. She has had dark times, but thats between she and herself. Kensa is free of any kind resentful feeling as she waits to hear what kind of adventure Sviko is on.

    kensa
    for every dreamer, a dream. we're unstoppable with something to believe in.

    @[Sviko]
    Reply
    #5
    Sviko has a calm about him that has followed him out of the liquidy-soft womb. It is likely a result of being the youngest and smallest of the triplets, coming last after the brawny warrior-sister and the roving honey-tongued brother. He figured he’d find his place as something other than the last and least likely in due time. Until then, he was first and foremost, a prince lacking arrogance and thinking that he rebelled by wandering off and doing the opposite of what they had come to expect of him - staying put.

    He is unaware of her titles beyond the fact that his mothers entrusted his birthplace to her and some other to govern. It doesn’t even occur to him that she could lead a rebellion against his mothers to make her land first and great again. Not that Hyaline wasn’t great still but he marveled sometimes, at how fast his mothers gave it up to take over the Cove. They had their reasons, he supposed, such as avoiding the plague but plague has found them even in the safe spaces.

    No matter, she is here and so is he and their titles are just that - titles, dry as dust in the mouth and meaningless in as free a place as the meadow. She keeps from touching him; a fact he finds curious, but guesses that she is infected. Sviko knows the risks he takes, that was all part of his small rebellion. Both his siblings had contracted the disease, should he be any different? Probably, good obedient Sviko doesn’t catch the plague or stray far from the Cove’s magic protection. But he has!

    “Good,” he murmurs, giving her a quick once-over that confirms his earlier suspicion: she is plagued. Still, he’ll take his chances as he gives her a charmingly roguish smile. “And yourself?” He is emboldened; by what, he cannot say, as he leans in and runs his lips over her cheek in a meaningless greeting. It could be mistaken for a kiss, but he’s not so free and careless with those like his brother.

    He finds him nodding his head in agreement, certainly echoing her sentiment about a change in scenery. “The very same,” he answers, not the least bit careful in divulging why he has left the Cove behind. “Change was needed. The Cove is too sheltering at times, almost stifling and slow.” He speaks his truth because that is how the Cove is to him now - stifling and slow, no new blood or very little of it, and always his mothers gone or enraptured with one another.

    By now he is looking past her like she’s not even there, but he hasn’t forgotten that she is there. He is hyper-aware of her in the corner of his sight as he gazes at the far-off horizon like it has the answer to a question he hasn’t even asked. “Just needed something different…” he mumbles, falling back on an old boyhood habit before his blue eyes find her face again. Unlike her, there is nothing dark or strenuous in his life to prompt this adventure but he doesn’t pry into her reasons for being away from the lake of his youth or the mountains he remembers.

    @[Kensa] she makes him write novels lol
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