"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
Beqanna had altered herself once again. There had been an explosion of lands, a collective sonic boom of birthing. Suddenly Beqanna had expanded and lurched herself across existence, creating a multitude of territories. Epithet believes it may be to her benefit to explore.
A sheen of sweat still slicked her pale skin from her race with the green stallion, Wyrm. She had found him refreshing with his cunning smile and abilities that matched her own. Long limbs move her over the grounds, opting to retain her equine form except for the pair of delicate black wings that drip over her spine like an oil spill. A thirst burns in her throat, causing a sea glass eye to locate a wide river. Her descent is demonstrated with ease as she soon dips and settles against the damp soil. Dark stained lips reach for the water, cold and refreshing, a small shiver moving across her spine as she drinks her fill.
“Well hello there,” His voice is low and he’s standing just twenty or so feet behind her, grinning, watching. How long had he been there? A while. “Welcome to the River, thirsty stranger,” He slips up to the water’s edge beside her, keeping a respectable distance between their shoulders, he wouldn’t want to scare the poor dear already. When his lips come away from the cool moving water he lets much of the last sip dribble down his chin. His winter coat is bringing on thicker hair and a thin bear forming at the end of his chin. He searches her face to see if maybe he recognizes those eyes, the darkness etching her skin and the paleness of her coat.
Nope. Never seen her before. But really, that doesn’t change much of anything now does it?
“In the warmer months it’s rather nice to wade in.” His sharp baryl eyes flicker over her sweaty ribcage. “It’s cold at the moment.” He adds this last part in a quieter tone and settles his gaze to level with her own sea-glass stare.
An oddly marked man causes her to jerk away from the water, spraying it in a rather comical manner. His voice is musing, his face grinning. Epithet ponders the level of his sanity for a brief moment. She watches quietly as he moves towards her, standing off just a bit, to drink in some of the icy water. Epi watches him still without doing the same. She is a wide eyed cautious girl but choses to not armor herself up just yet.
"How long have you lived here?" She asks with heightened tones, watchful of the way he moves, the slip of a pink tongue along his lips. Epithet knows she has her gifts and there are few who an overtake her but one can never be too careful as Beqanna seemed to enjoy toying with her residents from time to time.
The dark wings on her spine melt away against her back so the mare appears to be a simple equine like the male before her. She does not think much of it as magic drips from every nook and cranny these days. The porcelain woman tilts her head slightly, reading his expressions as best as she can. "What's your name, river king?" Epithet murmurs with a slight smile touching the edges of her dark lips, listening for his reply.
He takes one last sip as she asks her first question, water dribbling down his chin as he brings his big painted head up. Chem’s glassy ultramarine eyes flicker over her wings as they fade away and her naked back is revealed. His body stirs and the energy expels from him with a hard slash of his long dready tail. He reaches out to meet her nose with his, thick whiskers reaching out several inches before his eager black lips. He’ll only touch if she makes a sign that it’s permitted, otherwise he’ll only hang his muzzle in place hungrily like that of a begging hound.
River King…oh boy.
His tail lashes again and he does not retract his wandering muzzle he offered before, even if she will not allow contact. “Chem.” He exhales a hot breath of excited energy. He slowly peals back and stands in his own space for a moment, snowflakes floating down gently between them. “I wandered here last Fall..” His half-lit gaze tilts playfully down to her, “Better question, girly with the disappearing wings,” He thrashes his tail again between words, his smirk gaining depth, “What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” His grin curls, mischief in his bright starry eyes.
Epithet decides to draw away from his hungry mouth and dancing eyes. The porcelain woman listens the wolf of a man, his name flitting from his lips, the way his words clip from his tongue. She is an unmoved by his handsomely painted frame as they share this patch of Beqanna, meeting at the river like a pair of secret lovers.
"Chem." His name coats her tongue as she tastes the syllables. It is name she has not known in her time on this earth. A dark eye turns to him as she teases her playfully and she responds with a little smile, her forelock falling across her eyes for a moment. "I don't know, Chem." Epi responds genuinely, as shrug moving her shoulders. "I haven't found my place yet." She speaks more to herself than her companion with words that are thick and murky. Her mind wanders for a moment before she catches herself and then returns her gaze to the stallion. "Sorry." She laughs while watching him. "I'm Epithet." The woman remarks with a smile toying across her dark lips, figuring it was her turn to give up a little information.
She says his name. Twice, his mind whispers to him in a hiss and his gaze is lit still with eagerness to wrap around her. Her dark eyes peer up at him so angelic and it makes his chest flutter, his nostrils twitch anxiously. She shies from him but he does not bend away. He does not lean in either, but instead wistfully casts his teal eyes to the horizon. “Well,” he sighs dramatically but with a smile of humor and wit. “Where’re you from then?” she checks her over carefully and with a lingering eye on each dip of her milky skin. “You were born here, like me, I can see it all over you…” His eyes flit back to the far off distance. “But where within these magical realms have you lived?” There is a genuine curiosity about him now, not all banter and sarcasm, but a real question for her as he remembers all of the places he himself have called home.
Now though, now he calls nowhere at all ‘home’. The closest place to a residence would be this very spot, this place along the edges of the River and within its horizontal arch of fertile meadows and elderly little forests. He doesn’t mind that much except for the dullness that is starting to kick in. He’s meant to be surrounded by woman at all times – he swears it. He’s never tried to explain it, couldn’t if he tried, but it’s just reality. A reality he doesn’t mind owning, truly.
“Would you walk with me then, Epithet? I was thinking about following the river east to the coast.” he sucks in a deep breath and his eyes close, “I crave the ocean lately.” he hums to himself as he exhales, “Do you enjoy the ocean, Epithet?”
