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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]  our dreams, they are made out of real things
    #4
    Mojave’s gaze brighten with interest as he watches the dark mare, his inchworm* eyes catching the wind that seems to touch only her. Perhaps it is only that his own upright mane is too stiff to bend, but he has seen enough strange things to not immediately accept the simplest explanation.

    “Tavani,” Xii repeats, “It’s lovely to meet you.” There is no indication in her pleasant smile that horses had once been as strange to her as the thought of controlling the wind. She still finds them rather homely, with their too-short ears, lanky bodies, and that unfortunate amount of floppy hair. Homely, but interesting, and she is genuinely pleased to have found someone new to converse with.

    About to ask a question, she’d beaten to it by Tavani, and is surprised that it is not the usual “Where are you from?”, given how clear it seems that she is not a native of this land.

    “Yes,” Mojave answers, which Xii accompanies with a nod, “For now.” At that, a brief expression of surprise flashes across her face. Though her son is nearly grown (and perhaps, to most he is well into adulthood), he’d not shown any interest in any of the the lands they’d traveled through. Especially not enough of an interest to indicate he was ready to leave her, to take on the role of kiang stallion - guarding his resources and those who chose to use them. Her people did not live in herds like she understands horses often do, and she had been intrigued by the kingdoms that had once flourished here, as they reminded her of the communal world in which she had grown up.

    But Mojave is more than a kiang, and though his father had given his mother only a few weeks of company, he’d given his striped son a desire for a herdlife that his mother would have found strange. If he’d ever said it aloud, of course, which he had never done. He’d been building up to it though, and the question asked by the sky-eyed stranger was the perfect opportunity.

    “And you, Tavani?” She asks, turning back to the other mare with a bemused expression on her face. “Are you usually out on your own?”

    @Tavani


    *i asked alexa to pick a random color and apparently inchworm is a color but i’m not looking up what it is until i finish this post.
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    RE: our dreams, they are made out of real things - by xii - 01-10-2024, 08:01 PM



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