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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


    but recently, the flames are getting out of control; any
    #2

    Perhaps he has forgotten her. Forgotten how very much the same they are. She longs to watch the world burn, longs to be the one who burns it down. Well, to use Kingslay to set it on fire. To let Gryffen collect the weak and pathetic and tear them down even more. To send them home broken but for the name of those who broke them. She longs to make the world fear them again. Truly, fear them. Because they are something to be feared now.

    But the process was slow, tedious, Boring (as Weed knows). Playing Queen means so many fake smiles and diplomatic meetings. It means bidding your time until your kingdom can stand alone, or has the power to stand alone. It means waiting for that opportune moment. That moment to snatch away the throne from a useless king and even more useless father. That moment to break the worthless treaty with the Gates. That moment to burn it all to the ground.

    Perhaps, he has forgotten that they think so alike. Perhaps he has forgotten that he met his match. But she has not forgotten. No. How could she forget him?

    The ravens tell her of his return, and she takes to the sky. For a while, she follows high up in the sky, just another black feathered bird. Nothing impressive, nothing of any note. But she keeps tabs on him until he settles into the outskirts of the meadow. Not the Valley, where he once belonged (though she would argue his talents would be of much better use to the Chamber now). Not the Chamber, not to her. Certainly, not to her.

    Eventually, she dives, landing on the ground some distance in front of him. The raven turns to face him, but its eyes are her eyes. And then she shifts back, from raven to bay and white horse. But no longer princess or lady. Now, she wears raven feathers in a crown atop of her head. Now, she is so much more than the mare he had left behind. But then again, she never needed him.

    Need and want are two very different things though.

    Her lip curves into the hint of a smile, and she flicks her tail. This much, at least, has not changed about her. “Plant.”

    straia

    the raven queen of the chamber

    image © Squirt



    aaaaah!

    Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission

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    RE: but recently, the flames are getting out of control; any - by Straia - 07-28-2015, 10:22 AM



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