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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


    La petite papillon - any
    #1

    The snow was something new for Amorette do discover. It was her first winter and the white flocks intrigued. Just like rain it came from the sky, but unlike the rain the snowflakes came down almost gracefully. It was still wet and the young girl had soon figured out that it wasn’t the wisest thing to lay down upon it. The snow coated the lands with a beautiful sparkling white blanket and it continued as far as her eyes could see.

    But the snow wasn’t only beautiful, it also was also a lot of fun to play with. The further the day that they had arrived at the Gates from the Morning Mountains got away, the further the smoky black filly dared to move away from her mother’s side. Of course Besra would be near most of time, the two sisterly close girls played together a lot, but even though her shy nature little Amorette started to venture out alone a lot more too. All simply because of the curiousity.

    Her shrill whinny sounded, traveling across the Gates’ white lands, but without echoing back. She stood upon a small hill, ears perked forward enthusiastically as her eyes were desperately looking if she could see someone – something – coming in her direction. Her coat had become thicker to help her withstand the winter’s cold, but she couldn’t help but to bounce a little. Both to keep the cold out of her limbs but also in excitement of course.

    amorette

    Minette's petit papillon

    image © jennifer heinen
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    #2

    like the sea, constantly changing from calm to ill.

    Rapscallion has never understood the 'diplomatic' way or those who draw attention to themselves for little to no reason. He does not know the small filly on the hillside and although he is not one for being a heroic or even moral creature, he is bored today. Rapscallion is quite handsome, a milky buckskin with black forelock, athletic build, green eyes, so naturally he would be distant and emotionally stunted. There's always something wrong with them.

    He cares nothing about his rank, he has no real loyalties but so far he's found here to be nicer than the cold Tundra winds and less testosterone to stifle. Although women were a tad bit dramatic in his eyes, they were easier to tolerate (especially during breeding season) than some man stroking his ego. He enjoyed the warm climate of the Amazons but he knows he is not welcomed there as a resident and although he's fine with testing limits; he isn't that stupid.

    He finally makes his way to the girl a deep, brash voice appears, "Did standing out in the open, shrilling out really seem like the best viable option? There are warmongers knock at our doors, you know," he says without concern if she even understands what he is saying. His mother had never spoken or broken down things, she expected him to figure it out and he had. Rapscallion was born from two very intelligent but very conniving people. He isn't sure where he falls on the spectrum of either.

    "Rapscallion." he says with nothing more, his attention goes back to the borders for any movement or telltale signs that he should be in a position of fight or flight.

    .r a p s c a l l i o n.

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    #3

    At last there is someone coming in her direction. Amorette tilts her head a little to the side as she curiously studies him. He’s a stranger to her, both at sight and scent, yet he reminds her of Magnus. Her papa – or actually adoptive father, in absence of her own – supports the same stunning colour, but this stranger comes without wings. As she had yet to learn and discover the less nice parts of this world little Amorette doesn’t question his handsome appearance, nor the fact that he approached her.

    Once he gets nearer to her the smile upon her lips widens, but at the same time her shyness and insecurities grow too. Children were easy to be around and play with, but once the smoky black girl found herself among adults she had some unexplainable feeling that Amorette had to please them. Only the thought of disappointing them put a weight upon her shoulders and you could almost say that she was afraid of others being disappointed in her. Therefor his words make her flinch. It’s not like she understand exactly what he says, but the tone is clear enough.

    She steps backwards as her head dips towards the ground. A lump forms in her throat and she doesn’t know what to say. War? Was the Gates at war? But Magnus had told them they would be safe here and live peacefully without any troubles. ”W-war..?” her voice is small as she repeats his words. Amorette doesn’t dare to look up at the buckskin male, instead she stands there as a scolded child.

    Then he introduces himself, by simply speaking out his own name, leaving her to guess that is what he is called. ”My name is Amorette” she replies as she still studies the snow underneath their hooves, not daring to look up to him yet. Oh yes, she feels terrible, hating the fact that she had apparently disappointed this stallion before she had even spoken a word. How much worse could thing get?

    amorette

    minette's petit papillon

    image © jennifer heinen
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