[private] sometimes to create, one must first destroy - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Meadow (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=3) +---- Thread: [private] sometimes to create, one must first destroy (/showthread.php?tid=28690) |
sometimes to create, one must first destroy - Nostromo - 01-09-2021 NOSTROMO @[Ryatah] <3 RE: sometimes to create, one must first destroy - Ryatah - 01-24-2021 Ryatah — there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree? The meadow is hushed from the blanket of snow, and it almost makes her wonder why she decided to venture out of Hyaline. She disliked the quiet; hated anything that forced her to acknowledge her thoughts. Ever since the eclipse it seemed as though everything was quiet, though, and she could feel some of her old restlessness and agitation begin to simmer just beneath the surface of her skin. The rest of Beqanna is not used to the dark; not the way she is. She has spent more time in the dark than she ever has in the light, and when the moon decided to take the sun hostage she did not notice. She decides that the meadow is not going to be a suitable release for her tension today, and she is moving back toward Hyaline when she hears a distant, but distinct cry. Ryatah, for all her angelic features and relatively kind demeanor, was not the best at comforting others in distress. If not for an inexplicable pull that seemed to draw her towards the sound she would have likely continued on her way, but as it is she cannot ignore the way the sound had pierced beyond her typically selfish nature and managed to capture her attention. She follows the sound until through the dark she finds the warmth of the body curled in the snow—bright, like the color of flames, against a world of cold. With angel-wings folded delicately at her sides, she does not take the time to think of how oddly light and shining she would be in this shadow-world, and instead she approaches directly, stopping only once she is close enough to lower a haloed head and touch her porcelain-white lips to the girl's neck. “Are you hurt?” she asks her, instead of asking if she was alright— clearly she wasn't. There is a spot on the mare’s neck that shows bright red, and there is something about the wound—the way she can nearly taste the acid of it—that reminds her of the types of injuries she had seen Ripley and her offspring inflict. The odds of prey escaping the jaws of her daughter seemed unlikely, but she cannot help but to think that she was drawn to this mare because of a connection through her. there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin — @[Nostromo] RE: sometimes to create, one must first destroy - Nostromo - 01-31-2021 NOSTROMO @[Ryatah] RE: sometimes to create, one must first destroy - Ryatah - 02-08-2021 Ryatah — there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree? “Don’t get up,” she tells her gently, and by now she is moving forward. Even though the girl is clearly terrified she can only hope that she will soon see that she is here to help and not inflict further harm. Thankfully, there was nothing about Ryatah that was even remotely intimidating. She has always been soft—often too soft. The glow that radiated from her was an easy one, and though brighter than usual in the pitch of dark, it further accentuated the worry in her almost-black eyes. Her chest clenches when she immediately recognizes the sounds the mare is trying to make. They are awkward on her fully equine tongue, but fluent in comparison to anyone else that might try to mimic it. She is confused, and she has so many questions, but with the girl writhing on the ground in pain she pushes them aside. She reaches forward, slowly so as to not startle her even more (or at least, she is trying not to). Her lips rest just lightly near the top of her neck, and she lets the healing begin to work in the surrounding areas before shifting, her touch now directly on the worst of the injuries. The injuries inflicted from Ripley and her offspring are not entirely normal; they are not as easy or as quick to heal as wounds inflicted by wild animals or scrapes of tree limbs and rock. She has had her healing long enough though that it is not too difficult, and when she feels the mare begin to relax as the pain eased she asks her softly, “Does it hurt anywhere else?” there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin — @[Nostromo] RE: sometimes to create, one must first destroy - Nostromo - 02-27-2021 NOSTROMO @[Ryatah] RE: sometimes to create, one must first destroy - Ryatah - 03-15-2021 Ryatah — there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree? She can see as the pain begins to ease from the girl, but her own worry remains knotted in her chest. She cannot shake the feeling that she knows her, or that she should know her. There is something about her face that reminds her of Ripley—not transformed, alien Ripley, but the Ripley she had given birth to, the Ripley she had watched grow. The Ripley that had been a brilliant, vibrant girl, and not the feral beast she was now. But feral or not, Ryatah was protective of her daughter, maybe even more so than her other children. The one who needed protection the least, but also the one most likely to be misunderstood. She knew Ripley had attacked her own siblings—Cassian and Evenstar, at least that she knew of and while she would never want anything to happen to either of them, she knew Ripley had no conscious idea what she was doing. It’s why even though she feels for this girl—this girl that is maybe related, or maybe just an escaped prey, she isn’t sure yet—she cannot bring herself to blame Ripley at all. She acted in the only way that she knew how, like anyone would. “I’m afraid I can’t heal that,” she tells her softly, sadly, when she speaks of heartache. She reaches down again, to gently brush her nose against the top of her neck. “But it goes away eventually. Sometimes it just takes a while.” She realizes that she is perhaps too close for the other girl’s comfort; personal space has never been something she was very aware of. But she withdraws just a little, her dark eyes still on the girl’s face when she says, “My name is Ryatah.” there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin — @[Nostromo] RE: sometimes to create, one must first destroy - Nostromo - 03-23-2021 NOSTROMO @[Ryatah] |