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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


    a violent beginning
    #1



    I never knew daylight could be so violent

    A cougar slinks into Beqanna in the twilight of the winter, but the eyes that glint in the fading light of the day are the deepest of blues and not the natural gold one might expect with these species. Spring is close, she can smell the changes coming on the air, and she wonders if that’s what has brought her here.

    What brought her back.

    Instinct keeps her to the shadows and she finds a river to follow for a time while she gets her bearings. There are so many horses here, of all shapes and sizes, and it starts to call at something deep within her heart. Something that she has forgotten. 

    Did… did she use to be one of them?

    Her immediate reaction is to shake her head angrily but the part of her mind and heart that have been awakening since she arrived in this land are growing louder and saying that yes, yes! She was one of them! She is one of them still! She’s spent the last 20 years living as she is now, as a cougar. Not really thinking about how that’s a curiously long life for the species, how she’s watched others come and go in such fleeting lives in comparison.

    Her mind begins to tear itself apart with these thoughts and she scream-roars into the twilight out of frustration, giant paws clawing at her own head as if that could somehow get those thoughts out. 

    But now that they’ve rooted, they’re growing faster and faster and she begins to pant, her blue eyes wide and rimmed with white.

    Suddenly, violently, she begins to tremble and shake. Her body feels as though it’s on fire and it’s no wonder - because her muscles and bones are beginning to shift. Another scream releases from her but it’s choked off because as she opens her mouth, canine teeth transform into those of a herbivore. She’s helpless against the change now, and it’s been so long since it’s happened that her body fights it ever step of the way making it blindingly painful and excruciatingly longer than normal. 

    It’s almost fully dark now by the time she’s lying in the cold mud beside the river, her wings flailed out around her. 

    The mare is breathing heavy and her eyes have not lost that wild, afraid look. But her mind has stopped screaming for now, it’s fallen as silent as the night around her, and she cannot do anything else right now but stay exactly where she is.



    VASTRA
    kastiel x nazaire, wanderer



    @[Pteron] <33333 Hope you don't mind the kinda dramatic beginning! Vastra demanded it of me.
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    #2
    Aten was not a horse who would go out looking for trouble just for the sake of satisfying his own curiosity. When it came to potential threats to other horses however, he would willingly place his own safety on the line to make sure others stayed safe, whether he knew them or not. On this particular winter day, the last of the snow was leaving, signaling that spring was making it's way to Beqanna once again. Just enough snow was left on the ground, however, that Aten was currently using it to follow the tracks of the big cat predator he'd smelled about a mile back.

    Turul, though nearby, was currently off on a hunt for his own meal, leaving Aten to follow the tracks on his own without eyes in the sky to warn if the big cat had backtracked and was now circling around to find a way to attack the golden stallion. So far, everything seemed to be quite, save for the occasional forest animal or horse Aten glimpsed or heard break the silence that hung around the River like a blanket of fog.

    Aten wasn't watching where he was going for a moment, not noticing how the tracks got close enough to the river that the golden stallion's hoof went through the last remnants of ice on the bank before he shuffled back to the right and followed them from a distance if they got close to the water again. As time went on, the golden stallion began to notice something.

    Unlike the tracks of a well-practiced predator, careful to keep it's movements quiet and precise, these ones started becoming quite... messy, was the only word he could think of. The big cat seemed to be experiencing a struggle of some sort, it's tracks criss-crossing over one another like it had been hit on the head hard enough to cause some pretty decent dizziness. The snow had been kicked up in odd places as well, as if the predator had been venting some frustration.

    Aten's curiosity was piqued now; what had happened to this big cat? His question was somewhat answered when a loud roar-sounding call shattered the silence surrounding him, the stallion's head flying up and ears turning in the direction the sound came from. He almost didn't want to see what was going on, and would have turned to head for home if he hadn't heard the choked scream a few seconds later.

    Ignoring how the night could prove to be a difficult time to travel due to his light coat color, instead worried that whoever screamed could be hurt or worse, Aten galloped in the direction of the screams, his eyes occasionally glancing down to see if he could still see the tracks in the limited moonlight.

    When he could no longer see, Aten had to rely on scent. It was difficult with the snow, but the stallion managed to find something that was enough to continue leading him on. It was only when the scent started changing entirely that he was even more confused. The cougar scent was gone, now there was a horse? What in the world was going on? Aten was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed the horse lying in the snow some feet off to his right, her wings spread out and her breathing quick but heavy, indicating that she was still in a frantic state.

    Aten hesitated for a moment, wondering how close he should get considering how the mare appeared to be right now. Finally, after a moment, he took a couple steps forward, still maintaining a few yards distance, and spoke in a quiet voice, almost a whisper, to avoid startling her.

    "Are you all right...?"

    @[Vastra]
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    #3
    At this altitude, Pteron could forget that spring has come to Beqanna below. Up here, everything is always cold and every breath crackles in his lungs. There are no budding trees or bright grasses here – only wind and cloud and Pteron.

    As a child, he’d fantasized about staying here forever, hovering above the earth like an albatross. A simple life, closer to the sun, but it would be a lonely one. That is what always brought him back to earth, in the end. He’d grow too lonely. Seeing his parents and siblings from above was good for a few hours, but eventually the desire to return would rise up. Flying is his favorite, but he also liked running patrols with Father, listening to Mother’s stories and teaching Marni and the triplets everything he wises he’d known at their age.

    But now it is just Marni and the twins, and Pteron has no desire to see the emptiness in his parents eyes or the shallow divot in the nest where Gale used to sleep.

    Gale had been his favorite, and when Pteron had seen the broken wings his father had brought back from Loess, he had taken flight without a word.

    He’s been flying for days now. His thoughts are hazy, but that is better than remembering. His belly growls, but Pteron prefers that emptiness to the one in his chest. The stallion opnes his mouth – to scream or cry he is not really certain – but the sound comes from somewhere below before he can make it himself.

    In a heartbeat, he is gone from sight. Someone below is yelling in a voice that might have been his own, and so he banks beneath the clouds to find them without a second thought. It is probably dangerous, he thinks, but less so than falling headfirst into a volcano.

    She is not hard to find even in the twilight, the riverlands are empty this time of year and the yellow creature makes no effort to hide herself. Pteron watches, engrossed and somehow grateful for this spectacle that requires all of his attention. He cannot think of Gale while he watches the transformation below him. He has seen shifters before, but this is not the same. Something is different – something is wrong. He cannot being to think of how he might help and so instead he watches, and intangible presence, and lands only when she collapses to the earth.

    Pteron wonders if perhaps she is dead. But no, her chest heaves against the hard earth, and Pteron takes a step back lest she rise again. Focused on the fallen mare, he nearly does not notice the arrival of a golden stallion. Not until the crunch of hooves on semi-frozen ground sound closely does he even look up, locking eyes with the stranger. Well, his own eyes lock – Aten will see nothing but empty space.

    “She was shifting,” he says, his voice breaking the silence the follows Aten’s question. As the fog of his breath appears in the air, Pteron does as well. He is looking at Vastra rather than Aten, but a single blue ear remains turned toward the unfamiliar stallion as he watches the mare on the ground. “But I think it went wrong.”

    @[Vastra]
    @[Aten]
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    #4



    I never knew daylight could be so violent

    She’s not alone anymore but she’s so hollow, so exhausted, she’s not even sure how to react. Her instinct is to scramble to her feet, to bare her teeth and reach out with a massive paw to swipe at any one that comes close. But her body twinges painfully again as if reminding her that instinct won’t serve her in this form.

    Is it possible for her to learn how to be a horse again?

    Dark eyes roll back for a moment but the voice of one of the figures followed closely by another snaps her back into the present, back to life. There’s a long moment after both of the stallions have spoke where she just lies there, not looking at them - just looking out at the forest around them. Her mind is working overtime, trying to remember how to speak, how to interpret the sounds they have just made.

    It’s been so long since she’s heard someone talk and the response she’s experiencing is overwhelming.

    Slowly, she shifts her position so she is lying more comfortably, looking less like she’s been dropped from the sky, and her breathing begins to regulate though she is still trembling. She’s forgotten how to fold her wings, though, so they remain splayed out awkwardly. The pause to move gives her mind enough time to catch up and play the words properly inside of her brain, for her to think about what they mean.

    No, of course, she’s not alright.

    Yes, something went wrong with her shift. 

    Her head tilts towards the strangers, and she manages to croak out a single word “Wr...on...g.” She’s not sure whether she needs help or whether she needs to be left alone and she can’t remember how to communicate questions or needs. She doesn’t recognize either of the faces she’s looking up at, but she doesn’t remember how to ask for names or figure out where she is. 

    She feels lost and frightened and for a moment she tries to speak some more but she can’t find the words - so she just hopes that one of these strangers will know what to do next. Because the one is right - she knows because the word "wrong" resonates with her and she's clinging to it. Something has gone wrong and she's not sure how to fix it. 


    VASTRA
    kastiel x nazaire, wanderer


    @[Aten] 
    @[Pteron]
    Reply
    #5
    A short period of silence was broken by the voice of another stallion that appeared behind Aten and the unconscious mare. The golden one turned his head to see who it was that had approached, but was surprised to, at first, see nothing but empty space there. A shimmer of light seemed to move against the trees as a small cloud of frost appeared in the air, indicating that someone was indeed there. The stallion's form appeared as the frost vanished back into the air, but the golden stallion was hardly fazed.

    A trait like that was no surprise; he'd met plenty of horses who could do that before. And who was he to question such an ability? He could talk to a falcon.

    The two stallions turned their attention back to the mare to see if she would wake at the sound of their voices. Sure enough, it seemed to work. Her eyes fluttered open, but she seemed to be fighting an internal battle as she continued to lay there. It almost seemed as if she was struggling to get her legs to work for her. That had Aten worried; could she potentially be experiencing paralysis of a sort? From whatever had just happened to her to knock her out like that?

    His idea was squashed when the mare managed to roll herself over onto her stomach to be more comfortable, and Aten was relieved that she was at least still able to move. There was a tremble in her body, not quite as if she was scared, or from exhaustion at the effort to move. Perhaps whatever had happened to her was affecting many parts of her. It would explain the way she was acting, considering she also seemed to have trouble moving her wings. Aten hardly knew a wounded horse who lost control of their wings, or couldn't figure them out, save for newborn foals of course.

    The other stallion had said this mare had undergone a shift. So she was a shifter, it seemed, like many other horses Aten knew. Was the shift really so painful that this mare was left in such a bad shape? What could have happened during the shift to knock her down like this? Aten didn't yet figure it was possible for horses to be left in their shifted state for such a long time to the point that they were essentially newborn foals when they returned to their equine selves. The golden stallion would later come to that conclusion after some thought, but for now, his mind was focused on how he could help this mare since she seemed worse for wear.

    The mare turned her head to look at the two stallions, her dark blue eyes piercing the brown of the golden one. He was momentarily struck by such a pretty sight, for the blue eyes stood out nicely against her creamy colored coat, but when he heard her speak, Aten was focused immediately.

    She said one word... wrong. Aten was puzzled for a moment. Was this mare saying that the other stallion was wrong in his deduction of what happened? No, that wouldn't make sense. If he was wrong, then the mare wouldn't be in so much pain. She had to be agreeing with what he said, that the transformation went wrong.

    The mare's eyes grew frantic as some time passed, and Aten tried to figure out how he could remedy this. Hmm, perhaps he could treat this as if he were showing a new kingdom member around, even though this was the river site. He spoke in a calm voice to try and help the mare feel relaxed, also saying his words slower so she could keep up. It seemed saying that one word had taken a lot of effort, so Aten didn't know to what extent her speech abilities were hindered. As it was, perhaps she wouldn't understand everything he would say to her either. He didn't speak to her like a foal, treating her like an adult, but wanted to make it easy. He was just really hoping she wouldn't find this offensive.

    "My name is Aten," he began, lowering his head so he was closer to eye level. "You passed out... near the River... by the Forest. You're... safe here. No one... will hurt you. Do you... have a name?"

    @[Pteron] @[Vastra]
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    #6
    Pteron remains where he stands, only his dark eyes flicking rapidly across the grounded pegasus. She doesn’t seem to injured and his flaring nostrils do not catch the tang of blood, yet she remains on the ground, her wings flared around her like some sort of shield. Pteron heeds the warning, though he does grow more attentive with pricked ears and upright posture when she finally speaks.

    It’s an echo of the last word he’d spoken and Pteron is suddenly quite sure he understands. It was not long ago that his younger siblings learned to speak, their babbling turning slowly to recognizable speech. They’d often repeat the last word of what he’d said to them like an echo. She was just learning to speak, Pteron thinks. Or perhaps relearning – this is a fully grown mare and not a young child. She’s older than he is, Pteron can see, but assessing age is an impossible task in this world of theirs and she could easily be either four or four hundred.

    When the champagne stallio starts to speak, Pteron turns his pale face toward the stranger and takes him in fully for the first time. He, too, looks older than Pteron and is certainly taller. The young man’s olive eyes quickly trace the myriad of scars that adorn the roan stallion, lingering on those that he recognizes as burn marks. Those are scars he knows well as a boy raised in the dragon lands. He would have his own, he thinks, had they not healed and shrank within a few minutes of receiving them. The stranger – who introduces himself as Aten – speaks slowly to the wild-eyed mare and Pteron listens. There is little to add after the Taigan stallion speaks and Pteron tilts his head curiously as he watches the downed mare. He searches her expression for any sign that she understands what is being said, and finally asks:

    “Do you need help?”

    They might be asking for too much, Pteron knows. Though his own recovery time for injury is minimal the tobiano knows that there are injuries that take some time to heal. Her lack of outward brokenness does not mean she is entirely unscathed by whatever she’d struggled with in her shifting. His familiarity with shifters does not include the knowledge of their ailments and though he offers help he is not certain that he will be able to. Someone will though, he is sure, and he can find them.

    @[Vastra]
    @[Aten]
    Reply
    #7



    I never knew daylight could be so violent

    She’s asked for her name and she stares at the one who asked - Aten - for a long time, as if looking at this stranger will inspire her brain to somehow start working again. Surely she must have a name.

    She’s been called grandmother and mother, mate and enemy, but none of these are really names.

    This puzzle is giving her mind something to focus on, however, and she is taking deeper breaths as she tries to work it out. She knows she can’t stay silent for long, so she just whispers back three simple words in response to all the words he had said. “I don’t know.” Her voice still creaks, still burns in her throat, but the soft words do come out - unless she’s imagining them. This feels like a dream now that her breaths are beginning to come a little more regular, now that the thunder of her heartbeat isn’t deafening her to all else.

    Another question, though from the other of her companions now, and this question - more than the one about her name, makes her feel like she is going to crack. “I... don’t k..now.” She repeats, and when her voice creaks this time it’s not just the lack of use - it’s an emotion bubbling up within her. She’s afraid. She can’t remember the last time she was afraid before she woke up here in this mess.

    She doesn’t fear them - she knows this much, at least. The two stallions are speaking to her with kind words, gentle voices, and there’s enough instinct in her from her past lives to not feel threatened by either of them. Whether or not that is misguided is a problem she can face at a future time, but for now she realizes just how vulnerable she is and she knows that she does need help.

    She just has no idea what to ask for.

    She’s afraid of this not knowing, she’s afraid of this form she’s taken and all that it implies.

    That her last life, the life of a mountain lion, was a lie. She was hiding from something, burying herself so deep within a shift that she lost herself within it.

    What was she running from?

    “I…” She trails off, a frown darkening her eyes as she attempts to sort her thoughts out - gaze shifting between the two stallions she feels she has no choice but to trust to help her. “I do-n’t kno-w this pl-ace.” She fumbles the words out awkwardly but they’re the best she has to describe the feeling growing within her. She came from somewhere like this but her instincts tell her something has changed. Wherever she was born, whatever land and family she knew before she ran away, none of that exists any more. Aten said words like 'forest' and 'river' but those are just things - there's forests and rivers everywhere.

    “Is…” Another deep breath and she’s frowning again, growing frustrated with her own inability to ask simple questions - or to answer them even!

    Why can’t she remember?

    “Is it safe… here?” She finally sputters out and once the words are out she slowly, carefully, folds her wings so that they blanket her and she squeezes them as tight against her as she can as though they will somehow help her keep it together. One of them does not squeeze tight, however, and instead hangs out a little from her body, even folded. She doesn’t think about the pain or realize that a few of the bones in it has been broken, just like how she doesn’t even try to stand. She’s not sure she can take anything else in right now and instead she focuses, desperately, on the two standing near her as if they can somehow help her to solve everything.




    VASTRA

    kastiel x nazaire, wanderer



    @[Aten] 
    @[Pteron]
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    #8
    The mare seemed to be taking some time in between her words, telling Aten that she was working something out. The fact that some of her words earlier were also rough and... cracky, it seemed she was having trouble even saying some of them. This... damage, or experience she'd had, left deep damage, enough that this grown mare was having trouble doing something that three-month-old foals had no problem with.

    The emotion behind her voice as well, when Aten asked the mare if she had a name, it made the stallion immediately regret his question. His eyes softened when he saw the broken look in her own, not sadness, but fear. Not the fear from the stallions though, he could tell that based on how she was not shying away from the two of them. Her fear was based on her own innability to answer the golden stallion's question.

    After some more hesitation, the mare asked Aten if the place she was in could be considered safe. The golden stallion nodded at her, "Yes, you are safe here. There is nothing to fear."

    He took a moment to consider his next words, "I know of a safer place, if you do not want to stay here. Perhaps if we walk around a little, you might remember something. You do not have to, there is no rush. I will help you however I can."

    @[Vastra] @[Pteron]
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    #9
    Pteron watches quietly, his olive eyes never leaving the winged mare. The same is true for Aten, the stallion realizes, and so Pteron looks elsewhere. Not purposefully away from the broken mare, but rather towards the sparse woods around them, keeping watch on their surroundings in a way that suggests this duty is not an unfamiliar one. Aten tells her that the Riverlands are safe, which is not a promise that Pteron would have made. These lands are as neutral as the field and the meadow, but only by merit of averages. Kind hearts are as prevalent as black ones, though it seems that the mare who struggles to speak has been quite lucky with the two passersby who’d found her on the ground.

    Aten offers a safer place, and at this Pteron glances back, curious enough to abandon the watch he keeps. He means to listen for her answer, but instead his attention is drawn to the crooked way her wing has been tucked against her side.

    “That’s broken.” He says abruptly, gesturing with his blue muzzle toward the awkwardly folded appendage. The mare isn’t standing, he thinks, and wonders if perhaps her wing is not the only thing affected by her previous thrashing.

    The champagne stallion had suggested that she walks around, he remembers, having only been half-listening, and Pteron nods in belated agreement.

    Can you stand?” Pteron asks. “A healer could mend your wing, but if you can’t walk to one that would make things more difficult.” He could go and find one, Pteron knows; he is certainly faster on wing than Aten would be on foot.

    @[Vastra] @[Aten]
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    #10



    I never knew daylight could be so violent

    Although they’re both looking upon her with kindness, she is beginning to feel the weight of their gaze. She’s embarrassed enough for all three of them, not to mention hurt and angry that she has nothing else to give them - that she’s relying on these strangers and has no more sense left in her to be able to tell whether or not they’re even telling the truth.

    She doesn’t even know these two stallions and she’s a burden on them.

    She appreciates, at the very least, that one of them - the one with wings - doesn’t have a laser focus but instead looks around. In her gut she knows that’s what she should be doing, that she should be more aware of her surroundings than she is currently being. She’s been a horse again for all of five seconds and she’s already starting to lose the hunter instincts that kept her alive for so long in her other shape…

    There’s something there, a slight tingle of a memory that started when the winged stallion had mentioned something going wrong with her shifting. But though her brow might furrow and though her gaze may go hazy with thought, she cannot follow that thought.

    So she focuses back on them.

    Golden Aten assures her that she is safe, though the winged stallion’s focus on the trees around her tell the mare (even with her instincts not working as they should) that this assurance isn’t entirely true. Still, the offer of a safer place calls to her - sings sweetly to something deep in her heart she hasn’t discovered yet.

    But the other interrupts those thoughts and sends them scattering when he, quite simply, points out the obvious.

    The mare isn’t going anywhere in the state she’s in. Not if she can’t stand since she cannot fly.

    She opens her mouth to say the three little words she’s beginning to hate with a fiery passion - “I don’t know” - but closes it again and decides actions might work better in this case.

    There’s only one way to find out if there’s anything else broken. There’s a combination of pain and numbness all through her body that she’s been adamantly ignoring in favour of the numbness in her mind but she shifts her body a little now, testing. She winces when she moves the broken wing but there’s nothing she can do about that now.

    Taking a deep breath, she slowly uncurls herself from where she lies. Her dark gaze is fixed on the earth so that she doesn’t have to watch them watching her stand, doesn’t have to see their pity as she’s reduced to nothing more than a fumbling foal. If either would attempt to approach to help she would have urged them back. This is something she needs to test, needs to do, on her own.

    It takes a few moments and her legs are trembling with the effort but finally she stands and wills herself to hold her head high once she does, even though she’s exhausted. There’s a flash of triumph in her eyes, as small of a victory as it is, when she looks to the winged stallion to answer his question. “Can stand.” She breathes deeply and heavily once more, the effort of standing - and remaining standing - is taking its toll but she’s getting more stubborn by the moment and she refuses to lie back down.

    At least that’s something she knows about herself - she’s stubborn.

    Her wing hangs more obviously now, the long dusty-gold features trailing on the ground. She can feel a pain in her ribs as well and something is strained in her neck but she doesn’t want to admit all of these little things just yet.

    She looks between them, still trembling with the effort of standing, but feeling just a little better because of this victory and the promise of another on the horizon if she can find someone to fix her wing.

    “Where ... a healer?”




    VASTRA

    kastiel x nazaire, wanderer



    @[Aten] 
    @[Pteron]
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