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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


    like the moon, we borrow our light; rhonan / any
    #4

    my shadow tilts its head at me,

    spirits in the dark are waiting.

    At least she had an excuse for her lack of social graces. Rhonan had no excuse. He’d grown with mother and brother, and a sister often not all that far off either. He’s slipped off to the meadow many times, finding various types of horses for company. Somehow, social graces simply escaped him. At least the nuances of it all. He understood the general way a conversation goes, and he could probably survive a diplomatic meeting without making a complete and total ass of himself and the Valley. But no one would ever appoint him to lead an alliance discussion or any such nonsense either.

    In the end, he knew what he was good at. He could fight. He’d been fighting most of his life. Dying and destroying and fighting to try and avoid the inevitable. Now, he could fight with shadows, fight with the help of the darkness that consumed him.  He might be considered complex, somewhere in the murky depths of his head. Deep down in the place where his many different lives were, in the place that kept seeing Noah out of the corner of his eye. So many things had happened to the boy. So many terrors that would never truly go away.

    He just never thought about it. He never let himself be anymore more than the boy shrouded in black. A stallion now, perhaps, but still so much a boy. Something young and stupid about him, and that may never go away, years be damned. Or maybe, eventually, he’d learn how to grow up.

    He likes Ana though, because there are no games here. Even Rhynn has her games, enjoying the moments when she is stronger than he is, enjoying the fact she can shape him (and she has shaped him). But Anastasia is simply herself, and sees Rhonan for the shadows that make him up now. “Good question,” he says, with something of a laugh in his voice. Where else could he go? Who else wanted dark monsters like Rhonan?

    He follows her through the portal, her determination putting a strange little smile on his face. It fades quickly as spit comes flying toward his feet as he exits the portal, but not because he minds the spit. Rather, he just doesn’t smile for long. His muscles don’t know how, and couldn’t hold the look even if he wanted to. He nods at her assertion, and then tosses his head toward the kingdom more.

    “Do you want to see the rest of it?” though he doesn’t really wait for an answer. Instead, he starts walking, heading to the heart of the kingdom, to the place where it dips. In the center of that dip, there are not as many shadows, but on the edges, where the land rises sharply to either side, it’s always dark. There are also shadows to linger in, and it’s one of his favorite places to be. So hopefully, she will like it as well.

    rhonan.



    Messages In This Thread
    RE: like the moon, we borrow our light; rhonan / any - by Rhonan - 11-18-2015, 11:42 AM



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