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  • Beqanna


    Assailant -- Year 226


    "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

    [private]  In the morning you'll look like regret [Severe]

    It was still cold out. Winter should've been on her last leg, but she refused to make way for Spring just yet. Stubborn to the end, I guess.

    In many ways I could relate. A few weeks ago the mountain had lit up, beckoning any horse interested (or stupid) enough to try their luck, and I ignored it. There was nothing waiting for me on the other side of a quest except disappointment and possible death. I'd done what any reasonable, sensible creature would and turned my back to the beckoning light, hoping instead for a little peace and quiet.

    Though unremarkable at best, I liked my life and the simplicity it offered.

    The mountain and its temptations couldn't sway me into participating, not when there was wonder in the silence of the woods or clarity in the feeling of a good, hard flight. Both were preferable to company of any kind. I could glean more knowledge from studying rare plants or following a migrating flock of birds than engaging socially.

    I wanted for nothing and needed very little.

    Unfortunately for me, those needs trumped my innate desire to remain reclusive forever. I was only mortal, after all. Subject to age and all its problems, a slave to maintaining some measure of physical fitness and overall health so that I could travel. I had to eat and occasionally keep up appearances if I wanted to keep living in comfort. Something Beqanna (or 'new Beqanna' as I liked to call it) was making increasingly difficult for little old me.

    By late afternoon I was trekking on hoof through the Forest, foraging as I went. I knew the best spots for birch sap and avoided the darker regions of the woods, more superstitious than your average traveler might be - and for good reason. The quiet that usually calmed me felt too quiet, even for a Winter forest.

    This evening, the shadows and silence felt sinister. So sinister, in fact, that I stopped pursuing a nibble and looked up to peer into the dark heart of the wood. I couldn't pinpoint why, just that there was a feeling of being watched. I waited, finally blinked, told myself I was being silly, and then resumed the forgotten nibble.


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    In the morning you'll look like regret [Severe] - by Apothica - 03-16-2023, 08:32 AM

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