10-26-2016, 12:31 PM
now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
Eternal.
Everlasting
Those were the words that described Reagan, and those like her. They were the immortal pillars that held Beqanna’s magic together as if there was no way that there could ever be a rebirth. And indeed, there could not be. What magic was there, was given out. It mutated and twisted to become something new, but the pure unfettered power that comes with being a blood-born magician; those days were over. It was as such that when Jason knew his time was upon him, that he cast aside his immortality to save his son, who then became the one to hold the mantle that would become the new plank that would help hold the lands together.
For without them, the others cannot exist. They bleed the blood from the God Magic, who in turn has come from the earth, and was born out of the fairies. This power is not given lightly—and is not taken lightly. And yet, for those who abuse the magic, it is plainly written that the power shall be stricken from the land—and those who lived through the days of the Reckoning were testaments to that fact. They eked out a living for themselves among rocks and shallow roots, and were witnesses to the stretching of time and space as only a Fairy (or a Doctor) could do.
Reagan watched the leaves change; she had been away in her homeland, seeking refuge and building her family—her armor, her fortress. She was among them and in love with them and with her mate (that dark wolf she loved so dearly), they had created something that simply could no longer be contained to the forest. With hide nor hair of their esteemed leaders about, the forest would fall into disrepair and it had been left up to Ruan and Reagan to see to its comfort. Seeking a break from this never ending circle, Reagan stretched out her neck and body to the wings that she was by now so familiar with, and took flight among the trees, dodging their trunks left and right until she cleared the canopy. Once there, she vanished, transporting herself to the meadow within the space of a breath. A pause; a heartbeat; and then she vanishes again from the sky and lands upon the earth with nary a sound, tucking her wings (useless, but pretty) into her sides and seeking out her old friends (and the one whose blood was even older). Times were changing and there was much to discuss. Sending out a pulse to all the lands in Beqanna, she requests his audience, and asks that he brings his family—his own armor—with them. She had a feeling that like her, who was now broiling with the life of another, that Newton would be similarly sported, and smiled when she thought of little Elora, who was about to become a big sister.
Sahm…I request your presence. Come to me. I have missed you, and there is much to discuss.
Everlasting
Those were the words that described Reagan, and those like her. They were the immortal pillars that held Beqanna’s magic together as if there was no way that there could ever be a rebirth. And indeed, there could not be. What magic was there, was given out. It mutated and twisted to become something new, but the pure unfettered power that comes with being a blood-born magician; those days were over. It was as such that when Jason knew his time was upon him, that he cast aside his immortality to save his son, who then became the one to hold the mantle that would become the new plank that would help hold the lands together.
For without them, the others cannot exist. They bleed the blood from the God Magic, who in turn has come from the earth, and was born out of the fairies. This power is not given lightly—and is not taken lightly. And yet, for those who abuse the magic, it is plainly written that the power shall be stricken from the land—and those who lived through the days of the Reckoning were testaments to that fact. They eked out a living for themselves among rocks and shallow roots, and were witnesses to the stretching of time and space as only a Fairy (or a Doctor) could do.
Reagan watched the leaves change; she had been away in her homeland, seeking refuge and building her family—her armor, her fortress. She was among them and in love with them and with her mate (that dark wolf she loved so dearly), they had created something that simply could no longer be contained to the forest. With hide nor hair of their esteemed leaders about, the forest would fall into disrepair and it had been left up to Ruan and Reagan to see to its comfort. Seeking a break from this never ending circle, Reagan stretched out her neck and body to the wings that she was by now so familiar with, and took flight among the trees, dodging their trunks left and right until she cleared the canopy. Once there, she vanished, transporting herself to the meadow within the space of a breath. A pause; a heartbeat; and then she vanishes again from the sky and lands upon the earth with nary a sound, tucking her wings (useless, but pretty) into her sides and seeking out her old friends (and the one whose blood was even older). Times were changing and there was much to discuss. Sending out a pulse to all the lands in Beqanna, she requests his audience, and asks that he brings his family—his own armor—with them. She had a feeling that like her, who was now broiling with the life of another, that Newton would be similarly sported, and smiled when she thought of little Elora, who was about to become a big sister.
Sahm…I request your presence. Come to me. I have missed you, and there is much to discuss.
@[Sprite]
@[Toli]