03-09-2020, 09:02 PM
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<center><img src=https://i.postimg.cc/sXbD0tQv/tiasa-by-table.png></center>
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<br><font face="times" size="2" color="743e6a"><div align="justify"><font face="times">When the attention of this bay and white mare is on her, Tiasa does not cower. Her pink and blue eyes slide from the mare to the hazy darkness that surrounds them. Once she realizes what it is - a blank canvas - she eyes it hungrily. <font color=d798cb>“Not yet.”</font> Tiasa replies simply, undeterred by this list of things she did not possess. Big things have small beginnings, after all, and the teal girl was only just on the brink of what she believed would be a very long life.
She does not wish to be a queen so she needs no borders, no home - just water. She weaves the image around her, calling it forth from her heart. Not the crystalline coves and reefs of her family but murky ponds and swamps, deep within forests where only freckles of sunlight reach them in the middle of the day. There would be a healthy respect for the other predators living in such places, but Tiasa knew the wicked teeth she could summon if she needed to prove that she was one of them.
It does not matter where the water is, and she could move between them as she wished. Her Beqanna has ponds and swamps and pools formed by rivers dappling across the landscape. Tiasa believes there is more to be gained than by holding a kingdom. What is a queen, after all? Just a subject to her subjects. Crucially, Tiasa’s dream does not exist in just one box. It is boundless, uncontainable. Even an empress who dominates over multiple lands must have faith in others to uphold the dream, it is not something that can be achieved single-handedly. Soldiers, politicians, bodies to fill the lands. A queen without a court is just a mare standing in a field she calls her kingdom.
She slips into a murky pond, her raven-black hair fanning around her and she sees them come. It starts with the curious, those drawn to the bright juxtaposition of the tropical flower in a shadowy swamp.She would encourage the rumours to spread, a witch that could grant wishes. Whether or not she could would be something she could seek out at the mountain but the <i>possibility</i> might be enough to encourage visitors.
None of them ever get to touch her, few will get to speak to her. She would be elusive in her shrine, slipping beneath the surface, and that is where she will grow into herself and all the possibilities at her hands. A nightmare, a goddess, haunting the waters of Beqanna - always a chance to see her, always the threat of death but the lure of more. She has years to cultivate this dream - growing more beautiful, more savage, with each passing year.
There aren’t many legends in Beqanna, none that pass through the generations beyond certain families. She certainly knows of none. Queens and Kings are forgotten, replaced, out done practically every single day.
But Tiasa could be the first. She could endure.
<div align=center style="position:relative; left:150px; top:30px; font-family: 'Yesteryear', cursive; font-size:32px; color:#6577a7">tiasa</div></td></tr></table></center></td></tr></table></center></td></tr></table></center>
<center>art by dozymare</center>
<center><img src=https://i.postimg.cc/sXbD0tQv/tiasa-by-table.png></center>
<center><table width="520" bgcolor="182544" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tr><td><tr><td><center><table width="500" bgcolor="221C32" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tr><td><center><table width="480" bgcolor="2b121f" cellpadding="20" cellspacing="0"><tr><td>
<br><font face="times" size="2" color="743e6a"><div align="justify"><font face="times">When the attention of this bay and white mare is on her, Tiasa does not cower. Her pink and blue eyes slide from the mare to the hazy darkness that surrounds them. Once she realizes what it is - a blank canvas - she eyes it hungrily. <font color=d798cb>“Not yet.”</font> Tiasa replies simply, undeterred by this list of things she did not possess. Big things have small beginnings, after all, and the teal girl was only just on the brink of what she believed would be a very long life.
She does not wish to be a queen so she needs no borders, no home - just water. She weaves the image around her, calling it forth from her heart. Not the crystalline coves and reefs of her family but murky ponds and swamps, deep within forests where only freckles of sunlight reach them in the middle of the day. There would be a healthy respect for the other predators living in such places, but Tiasa knew the wicked teeth she could summon if she needed to prove that she was one of them.
It does not matter where the water is, and she could move between them as she wished. Her Beqanna has ponds and swamps and pools formed by rivers dappling across the landscape. Tiasa believes there is more to be gained than by holding a kingdom. What is a queen, after all? Just a subject to her subjects. Crucially, Tiasa’s dream does not exist in just one box. It is boundless, uncontainable. Even an empress who dominates over multiple lands must have faith in others to uphold the dream, it is not something that can be achieved single-handedly. Soldiers, politicians, bodies to fill the lands. A queen without a court is just a mare standing in a field she calls her kingdom.
She slips into a murky pond, her raven-black hair fanning around her and she sees them come. It starts with the curious, those drawn to the bright juxtaposition of the tropical flower in a shadowy swamp.She would encourage the rumours to spread, a witch that could grant wishes. Whether or not she could would be something she could seek out at the mountain but the <i>possibility</i> might be enough to encourage visitors.
None of them ever get to touch her, few will get to speak to her. She would be elusive in her shrine, slipping beneath the surface, and that is where she will grow into herself and all the possibilities at her hands. A nightmare, a goddess, haunting the waters of Beqanna - always a chance to see her, always the threat of death but the lure of more. She has years to cultivate this dream - growing more beautiful, more savage, with each passing year.
There aren’t many legends in Beqanna, none that pass through the generations beyond certain families. She certainly knows of none. Queens and Kings are forgotten, replaced, out done practically every single day.
But Tiasa could be the first. She could endure.
<div align=center style="position:relative; left:150px; top:30px; font-family: 'Yesteryear', cursive; font-size:32px; color:#6577a7">tiasa</div></td></tr></table></center></td></tr></table></center></td></tr></table></center>
<center>art by dozymare</center>