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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


    fault lines tremble underneath my glass house; shah
    #11

    She is quiet when he speaks, when he tells her they must be lucky to have her, quiet because she does not believe him. It did not seem like any kingdom would be lucky to have someone who just stood by, someone who had been too overwhelmed to react, someone who had fled the soot and ash rather than offer any help. But this man is kind, so kind, and she does not bother to voice these feelings again because she is certain of what his answer will be. Carefully, with her face turned from him for just a moment, she bleeds the guilt from her face so that he might never suspect the doubt that was eating a hole away at her heart. Her burdens did not have to be his.

    “I’m afraid to let my pain just be.” She tells him quietly, turning her face back to him, those quiet eyes half-disappeared beneath the black tangles of her forelock. “I don’t want it to go too deep, I don’t want to drown in it.” She thinks of her parents, of the way father wore his pain like a porcupine wore its quills, and of her mother who spent every minute he was gone lying to herself that she did not need him anymore. She thinks of that pain, of how it shaped them, how it made them ugly. Malis too, but Ilka thought maybe she fought a little harder, hung on just a little better. Or maybe she just had fewer burdens, less weight to be crushed beneath. But they were all still the same, soaked in their pain- and the look in their eyes, in the shadows of their faces, it scared Ilka. “I don’t want to be like that.” She says quietly, and the sound of her voice surprises even herself as the words had been meant to go no further than the thoughts churning inside her head.

    Her jaw clenches and her brow furrows even further at his next question, but her eyes remain soft and unsure against his face. “I wasn’t.” Is all she says at first, her head cocking subtly to the side as she considered something. “I met her once, and she seemed very kind. But I was new still.” A frown appears suddenly on her lips, warping the corners of her dark, delicate mouth. “If I’m being honest though,” and she found she could be nothing less with the warmth of his mouth pulling quiet truths through her ash and smoke skin, “I didn’t try to know anyone.” Her eyes unfocus from his face just a little as she considers something, considers why. “I think I was afraid to let myself get close to anyone. In case I didn’t stay.” The second part of her confession comes so quietly she isn’t even sure he’ll hear it at all.

    Instead, with guilt trembling in the pit of her stomach, she crushes herself against the warm curve of his chest, pushes her mouth against the planes of his shoulder. “I should go back now.” She tells him and she doesn’t bother to hide the way her voice wavers with regret. Somehow this hurt too, leaving him. “I should stop hiding.” She closes her eyes and presses her cheek against his neck one last time before she pulls away and braces for the wave of cold air. “I don’t even know your name though,” she realizes before she turns to leave, her face imploringly soft, “but I’m Ilka.”


    ILKA

    makai x oksana

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    #12

    All things are possible, even the worst of things.

    She hides her face from him, and for a moment he wonders why. But he does not ask, does not wish to push her. He understands too well the need to hide sometimes. He would not take that from her. Not when so much has already been stolen.

    As she turns back to him, her sorrowful eyes partially hidden by a tangle of dark hair as she responds softly to his comment, he is tempted to reach over and nudge those long locks from her lovely, expressive eyes. He gives in to temptation, unable to resist the urge. His dark muzzle brushes softly against her, stirring a tenderness deep within him. If anyone deserves such softness, it is this mare. As his chin drops once again, his brown eyes finding hers, he offers a small, reassuring smile, as though to say I believe in you.

    But he says nothing, knowing too well from where she comes. He had been drowning in pain too. There had been on one to pull him from it, no one to offer him a lifeline in the torrent of emotions that had kept him under in the months since his parent’s death. Not until she had come along, at least. Even unwittingly, she had provided him almost exactly what he needs.

    But he knows. He doesn’t want to be like that either. Sometimes though, it seems to be inevitable.

    And then she is continuing, speaking of her queen, of her hesitancy in coming to know her kingdom-mates. Her words are soft, the last few coming so quietly that he must strain to hear her. His features are quiet, her words causing a thoughtful expression to emerge. Shahrizai had been a vagabond for too long not to understand what she is saying. The sole reason it had taken him so long to settle on a home had been because of his fear that he would not stay. That he would grow bored and leave, that it was his nature.

    And perhaps still is. Though he has sworn himself to the Desert, his loyalty unwavering, he knows himself too well. So well that he wonders if it will truly last. Instead of saying any of these things however, he offers her a simple, reassuring touch followed by a few soft words.

    You know me.

    It is ironic, really. In the short span of time they have been acquainted, she knows far more of him than most. Two strangers, more familiar with each other than they are their fellow kingdom-mates. Nevertheless, he would not trade this time for that knowledge.

    And then she is continuing, telling him she should go. He does not wish her to, but he knows that he must let her. She reminds him that they have not even shared their names with each other, eliciting a short burst of laughter from him. For all that he now knows of her, he has not even learned her name. Not until now, at least. Ilka. Such a lovely name, suiting of the mare standing before him. He smiles, a wry smile that clearly expresses his chagrin.

    I’m Shahrizai. Shah, actually.

    And as she disappears, having finally learned his name, his gaze follows her as he whispers soft parting words.

    I hope that I can see you again.

    shahrizai

    hestoni x scorch



    I'm sorry this took so stupidly long, but I wanted to go ahead and wrap this one up.
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