12-17-2017, 12:11 AM
The heartbeat of Beqanna is always thriving (pulsating among the maggots and bones in the ground, screaming in the cry of a mother in labor, pushing among the sway of the trees and force of the waterfalls). The trickster has been around long enough to see the rise and fall of kingdoms (along with the gore of fallen soldiers, the voting for new kings and queens, the quiet inactive slumber of a kingdom gone dormant) and he knows it is an intricate piece of Beqanna’s body. Kingdoms bring some sort of order to the way life swirls around them aside from the pull of their lungs, the beating of their hearts, and the aches of their emotions.
After the fall of Gryffen’s Sylva (the trickster knows it will be different as the heroes and heroines make themselves cozy), he’d retreated to the corners of the well-traveled pieces of Beqanna. Thoughts have been stirring in his head as the once-mighty scientist has disappeared into the shadow. He isn’t quite ready to unveil their delicious potential, but word has reached him of the bay and green mare’s ascension.
It’s funny, she hadn’t seemed to be that special when they first met (perhaps that’s rude of him to think, but when has he ever cared for manners or decency).
He’s bored (on a day that is caught between the transition of summer into autumn) and so he decides to visit Ischia. The new kingdoms in Beqanna are curiosities to him, feeble compared to the solid foundations of the old kingdoms (of the Valley and the Gates, of the Chamber and the Deserts). The trickster pays little mind to the borders as he reaches Ischia, rather he steps across them with a flick of his tail and finds a stream to drink from in the meantime.
He will hide his location from any who happen to pass (shielding their senses from his presence with a few slimy tricks) until she arrives, whenever that might be. And then he will make his presence obvious to her, with a clearing of his throat.
After the fall of Gryffen’s Sylva (the trickster knows it will be different as the heroes and heroines make themselves cozy), he’d retreated to the corners of the well-traveled pieces of Beqanna. Thoughts have been stirring in his head as the once-mighty scientist has disappeared into the shadow. He isn’t quite ready to unveil their delicious potential, but word has reached him of the bay and green mare’s ascension.
It’s funny, she hadn’t seemed to be that special when they first met (perhaps that’s rude of him to think, but when has he ever cared for manners or decency).
He’s bored (on a day that is caught between the transition of summer into autumn) and so he decides to visit Ischia. The new kingdoms in Beqanna are curiosities to him, feeble compared to the solid foundations of the old kingdoms (of the Valley and the Gates, of the Chamber and the Deserts). The trickster pays little mind to the borders as he reaches Ischia, rather he steps across them with a flick of his tail and finds a stream to drink from in the meantime.
He will hide his location from any who happen to pass (shielding their senses from his presence with a few slimy tricks) until she arrives, whenever that might be. And then he will make his presence obvious to her, with a clearing of his throat.
LOKII
@[Krone]
