Beqanna
[open] Walking the linе between panic and losing my mind - Printable Version

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Walking the linе between panic and losing my mind - Beryl - 03-24-2022

Darkness consumes them again and again. 

Someone is following them, the yellow mare says to nobody, breathless, exhausted, her eyes ringed with wildness. She rarely sleeps now, and when she does, it is only because she is one step ahead of death, and it is only for the briefest moment because the nightmares come on almost immediately. They claw her awake over and over until the line between them and reality is drawn too thin to see. 

When daylight sprays across the pair with the scent of salt and greening earth, the shadows they travel through break apart, whipping furiously and then evaporating. Who could possibly be following them? And yet, she knows it to be true. The young wendigo has turned her pitch-dark eyes on great forests that stretch impossibly into the sky, on glassy shores reflecting strange green lights that dance in the sky, on red sand and golden grasses, and on a mountain that pierced the sky like a dagger and rumbled under her feet like a living thing. The wendigo could tell her that nothing follows them through those shadow portals but darkness and the yellow mare's nightmares, but she does not. She, too, has her distraction.

Illunis is hungry. Illunis is always hungry. Her narrow head turns to the empty-looking sea and sees no respite there. It scalds, that knowledge. Illunis would devour the world, yet the sea rebuffs her in a way frozen wastelands, parched deserts, and milky cloud forests have not. The child growls softly at the water lapping close at hand. One day. And perhaps then her belly will know what it is to be full.

It is not the yellow mare's fault that the wendigo is hungry. Illunis nurses greedily. Is it more than the twins? There's no room left in her shattered consciousness to remember - or to think to try to remember. The black-boned child (had the twins been black-boned?) is consuming her, an ounce, a grain, a shadow at a time. The yellow mare knows, but she forgets so easily, now. The click of her daughter's black teeth distracts her. It stirs a memory.

Someone is coming.

Clicking. Have Pangea's aliens found her at last? Old fears loom too large, the yellow-eyed xenomorph is near twice the size it should be, as unreflective of the noon sun as the shadow it is made of, yet its black bladed tail still cuts through the air with a whistle as it stalks the gaunt mare and child through the Ruins.


Beryl's having a great time colby don't @ me


RE: Walking the linе between panic and losing my mind - Derelict - 03-26-2022

Derelict’s curiosity about the changes in Beqanna has been strong, a drive that brings her to the Ruins and the new beaches almost every day. Their new neighbours live in the ocean, she’s been told, but though she’ll stalk the changed landscapes she does not try to enter the water and investigate below the surface.

Once, her twin had teased Derelict about how she’d die if the flames on her horns were ever extinguished and now she takes special care of them in the rain and when wading through water.

It is easy enough to do - though it prevents her from exploring and leaves her despondent as a result. When the rain comes, she’ll follow her instincts back into the forest where the thick branches prevent most of the rain from reaching the ground. Derelict feels more comfortable in the woods anyway - some hereditary instinct reminding her she is supposed to be a hunter.

These instincts aren’t smart enough to realize she’s got flaming horns curving out the sides of her head that make it impossible for her to blend in and a lot of pointy edges that like to get tangled up in shrubs and vines. There’s still some shrivelling remains of some foliage caught around some of her spines in a hard-to-reach spot - remnants of when she had been hunting on a dreary day recently.

Even her snake companion couldn’t dislodge it so now it rustles against the hard plates of her body as she walks through the stones, and they both pretend that the sound doesn’t grate on them after days of hearing it.

Family instincts for hunting in dark spaces aside, Derelict enjoys open air and sunlight. Today she came here hoping to catch sight of someone fishy but instead she watches with surprise as a portal of darkness opens up a little ways away and a golden mare and dark foal step out of it - and then the shadows dissipate.

Starry markings are not exactly uncommon but there’s something familial about the galaxy markings that mark both of the ones she watches - they aren’t unlike the red and orange galaxy that twists across her neck and chest.

More cousins? That antlered little girl certainly wouldn’t be out of place among Derelict and her siblings.

Drawn by curiosity, but unsure of what to say, this armoured mare drifts after them - a bit of light stalking, if you will, until she thinks of something to say.



@Beryl