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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


    no tagline yet whoops; other foals/any
    #7
    Ivar joins him first, greets hi, but is otherwise distracted by the girl nearby. Castile’s eyes follow him, pursue the winged filly as she soars and adorns the beach with her lithe grace and practice. It almost causes him to reel away, to bury himself in the waves, because he has not yet mastered the use of his wings. They lift away from his sides and flap once, twice, but only to pull air to his sweaty skin. The breeze kisses him lovingly, caressing him as it does the soaring gulls overhead. He does not try to fly, not with their group of children expanding. The sand, for now, is more appealing as the cliff shoots skyward in front of him. Up there is another boy that’s calling down to them – mostly to the girl – looking for a means to join them on the shoreline.

    He would have helped, would have advised the blue colt of the perilous trail down the cliff, but Ivar is far quicker – and more enthusiastic – to provide the information. Castile’s mismatched eyes stray to the high edge of rock towering above them, a sentinel to those lost at sea. It’s frightening to imagine flying down from the peak with a wistful hope that wings won’t fail, or the wind. Again, his wings flap as the subconscious thought reaches the forefront of his mind. Mother, unfortunately, doesn’t have wings so she doesn’t have the ability to teach him. Father, on the other hand, has not yet come to meet his son. All Castile knows is that father’s name is Lior and that he enjoys the foreboding darkness of the caves. Maybe, just maybe, he has wings and can teach flying lessons.

    In his embarrassment, one of his wings has shifted into that of a dragon’s. While the other is splattered with colors to match his body across soft feathers, the other is now a leathery, thin membrane. A single claw forms at what may be like an elbow.

    He doesn’t notice until he looks over his shoulder while Longclaw joins them.

    ”Uhh,” he is awkward in the sheepishness of his uncontrolled shifting, but desperately tries to mask it by introducing himself to the others, ”I’m Castile.” That’s all he offers them, not prince or son of Nayl – just his name alone. ”And here I was thinking I was the only kid around here.” A feeble attempt at conversation elevates his pulse, bringing his remaining feathered wing to that of a dragon as well. At least they match now, he muses, but never says nothing of them.





    It wasn't until afer everyone replied that I realized I typed in the wrong post -_- the one that WAS intended for this thread originally got lost somewhere lmao. I'm dumb.


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: no tagline yet whoops; other foals/any - by Castile - 04-23-2017, 08:40 PM



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