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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


    [open]  sing until our jaws are broken; any
    #2
    Bean is blown here and there, like a brown dandelion puff caught by the wind. Okay, that’s giving too much credit and lending too much grace to the image. Bean is a bit more like that scraggly dead stray piece of withered weed that is blown about and somehow lollygagging in the common lands. 

    Meadow, forest, river - she haunts them all. Haunt might also be a bit strong or inaccurate. Bean is no ghost, not even a zombie risen from the grave. Guess she’d have to die first for that to happen, and also have magic or magical friends that can raise the dead. She is however, just impish enough to be considered a nuisance or a strange ray of sunlight. 

    Then again, she might be as daft as a daffodil. Oh look! There’s some now along the muddied path that she happily and carelessly traipses down. Bright to behold and quick to capture Bean’s own mud-dull eyes. If she stares at them any longer, she’ll be liable to trip over her own feet!

    So of course she stops to give them a good long sniff. It’s just a friendly hello after all, though the daffodils look a little worse for the wear afterwards. Bean has daffodil-dust all over her nose and adorning the grin that covers her mouth. Such a silly thing she is! But now maybe she’ll refocus her attention back on her aimless meandering… 

    Which she does all while shedding bits of unnecessary winter-fur. Bean still manages to look unkempt and well, quite like something the cat drug in, as she resumes her jaunty stride down the path that ends in a swatch of fresh grown grass just before the river. Oh look! More distractions, except not some yellow little flowers this time.

    Nope, it’s cool rushing water that speaks to a dryness in her throat that she hadn’t known was there and a tall pale mare at the river’s edge. Bean moves closer, respecting that personal bubble and don’t-come-near-me look the other seems to wear. Until she catches sight of the ice spreading across the surface of the river. How cool is that?!

    If it was possible at all, her eyes would be bugging out of her head right now in sheer awe of what she was looking at. It didn’t seem possible though she knew it was; this land never disappointed in the strange and extraordinary. Of which she herself was neither. 

    Okay, she might be considered strange after all or at the very least, rude for stating so intently at the ice and the river and the pale mare that seemed to tie it all together. “I’ve never seen anyone do that before.” she commented heartily from her spot not too far from the other. Bean had no sense of volume control during times of excitement and she definitely felt excited at the prospect of this chance meeting by the riverside. 

    @[annapurna] Sorry, you got the goofball!
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: sing until our jaws are broken; any - by bean - 03-17-2020, 08:18 PM
    RE: sing until our jaws are broken; any - by bean - 03-23-2020, 07:29 PM



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