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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


    anyone;
    #1
    BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
    OF MOVING ON
    The wind was all he needed. With his wings outstretched Tiphon took flight from the island and watched as the world shrunk away. This is the most he has trusted his small wings after weeks of having strengthened them. With Beqanna still recovering he takes to assuming that he will never again see his own majestic wings or the magic he knows to course through his veins. The only taste of it is if he travels to the Mountain for that succulent tease of what once was.

    He spares it a glance during his flight. The titanic peak juts through the clouds and reigns supreme as the largest landmark. It almost mocks him with how it stands with an occasional glimmer of magic peeking through the shadows. Tilting away he tries to look elsewhere, but eventually finds himself nearing the meadow.

    His arrival is muted and calculated. His hooves alight onto the grass with hardly a whisper and with practiced accuracy.

    It has been a while since he has been here. Last he had seen a great mass still scrambling for refuge, but the buzzing activity has since settled. Homes have been established and now children will soon be on the way. Life, as always, continues after the disasters. With a weighted breath he stands immobile and lets himself fall victim to his brewing thoughts.


    TIPHON
    STARLACE AND INFECTION
    Reply
    #2

    la la la, some text here

    probably two lines will fit best

    She's had many homes... this might as well be hers now, at least it's familiar. Like a wounded solider she strays into the meadow, a defeated look in her honey eyes. Her head hung low, she keeps moving, because she has to, because to stop and think would be too confusing and too sore. Of course, she's survived worse than this before, but nothing feels worse right now. Everything is gone: her family, her lover, her kingdom... her home – both her homes. For the second time in her life, her home has completely disappeared. I suppose that's the risk you run when you don't die.

    Her mire is broken by the sight of a stallion. He has wings. I remember how it felt, to have the wind rushing past my cheeks, to be weightless and free. Her ears prick and the little pony mare moves forward to inspect him further. She doesn't know him, yet there's something disturbingly familiar about the set of his body, the curve of his jaw, the shape of his brow-line. It makes her stomach churn, reminds her of something (or someone) she'd rather forget.

    Then again, even a dis-pleasurable familiarity appeals to her better than no familiarity at all. She carries on approaching, moving to stand in front of him and offering him a wispy, ethereal smile. It's hard to commit when your heart just isn't in it.

    “You look deep in thought. I know the feeling well, except I don't wish to be alone with my thoughts at the moment,” she says with a soft frown on her brow. She remembers sleeping last night, fitfully dreaming... waking up in the Forbidden Falls, then the world being torn apart, waking up to find everything new. Then it faded into the memory of the familiar Dazzling Falls... only for her to blink and everything to be fire and pain. She'd woken up before she even spared a thought for the Deserts - just as well at that rate.

    “Tell me, do you know what happened here? I just woke up... and everything was changed.

    Pevensie

    mirror my soul

    Reply
    #3
    BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
    OF MOVING ON
    Crashing. Burning. Flooding.

    It’s all coming back now. The memories are reliving themselves and play like movies on the back of his eyelids when he blinks. It’s like the earth is trembling again and devouring itself all while they are scrambling and panicking. There are screams piercing the sooty air and choking many others.

    He watched, but he didn’t run. He worried, but he didn’t lose himself in the chaos.

    Her voice somehow trespasses into his thoughts and in his mind he is looking around for the source. There is no familiarity in it and he wonders if perhaps Moose was trying to speak to him somehow, but then there is a gentle breeze that he inhales in which her scent is most prominent. It stirs him and he blinks slowly before looking into her eyes while she looks into his. A breath catches in his throat and his lips purse into a thin line as he nods in agreement with her. ”Troubled thoughts consume us all if we allow them,” he speaks from experience and his muscles quiver in recognition. ”Perhaps I shouldn’t be alone,” he immediately welcomes her company as a distraction, but her question reminds him how little of a distraction it will be.

    ”Beqanna turned on itself,” he replies flatly with a heavyhearted sigh. Everything is playing over again and again and he can see the Dale crumbling. ”Everything we knew and loved was destroyed, and to top it off the magic was stripped from our bodies and stored there,” his gilded eyes peer up toward the sierra in the distance, ”in that Mountain.” This life as a mortal is foreign and he is quickly succumbing to the idea that he has finally met his end. Perhaps this is how Beqanna is telling him that he has served his purpose and that he is no longer needed.

    ”Be happy you weren’t here to witness it.” His gaze levels on her again but this time there is a gleam of sadness as he reflects on the demise of his Dale.


    TIPHON
    STARLACE AND INFECTION
    Reply
    #4

    just because it's happening inside your head

    doesn't mean it isn't real

    How many years have passed? How did she fall asleep for so long? It hurts. It hurts so much. To her disappointment, she finds she's not the only one trapped in a web of despair. At least he understands why he feels that way, to her everything is just a car-crash, a mixture of anxiety and confusion interwoven to fix her in her current state. The whites of her eyes hint at the edges, the mask of composure, the calm of an immortal Queen all but gone.

    He explains about the magic and she feels it again, the lack of warmth on her skin, her bond with the sunlight torn asunder. It feels stupid now, thinking back. At the very beginning, as little more than a yearling filly she'd met a horse with wings. She'd fixated upon the idea, the idea that she could be more than a mere mortal, more than her mother and her siblings. She could be special. Turns out, being special wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Just because you can bend an element to your will, just because you can live forever, - hell, even possessing magic, it doesn't solve the everyday problems she tried to escape. It doesn't make love, it doesn't feel family, it doesn't stop hurt and pain. She knows that now, a lesson only age and experience can accommodate.

    “I haven't been able to feel the sun since I woke up... it would caress me, bend to my figure, dance to my will. It doesn't feel me any-more and I don't feel it. I feel like only half of myself,” she sighs, speaking out loud, not specifically to the stallion beside her.

    What a pair we must make, all sadness and gloom – and we've only just met. She ponder to herself, shaking her head in some sort of futile effort to lift the heavy, darker thoughts. She knows it won't work, but it's worth trying, right?

    “Everything...” she repeats. It feels distasteful, like the sting of iron on your tongue when you bleed into your mouth. If only she could spit the blood out and that would make it better. It takes a moment for her to digest the magnitude of his revelation. “I... I was Queen of the Deserts. Before that, I was raised in the Falls. Where do I go now?” she asks, hearing the pain and anguish in her own voice shocks her. She sounds childlike, so far from the calm, assured Queen she knew herself to be. She doesn't know this stallion, not from Adam - why on earth would he know where she should go? But she can't think. It hurts to think.

    Pevensie

    mirror my soul

    Reply
    #5
    BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
    OF MOVING ON
    ”We all lost a great part of ourselves,” he murmurs after her explanation of the sun, of the warmth that once enveloped her at all hours and ignited her soul. The wisps of her soul that clutched tightly to the light have been tattered and destroyed. She, much like Tiphon, is lost and senses that emptiness. He looks at her apologetically, as if this is all his fault, but he knows that he had no say or power in Beqanna’s uprising. It happened and they have no option but to adapt. ”Life goes on. I’m sure there is something for you to focus on such as the fact that you are still here, still alive.” Lives must have been lost in the disaster because the world seems to be lacking in some way, but he could be wrong.

    Despite the sorrow – the pain – coursing through him, Tiphon still tries to reassure her (and himself). His heart is aching, his eye longing when he peers up to the gray clouds looming above. That’s where he so often ventured with wings so magnificent that he hardly exerted energy to soar. These replacements (here, he peers back at them with a drooping frown) are meek and nothing in comparison to what he once had, what he needs. They provide him transport, but not enjoyment. They are an ongoing tease of what he used to be.

    ”Everything.” he flatly repeats after her while taking a single step forward. They are near enough to touch, but he doesn’t yet reach for her skin or pull her into an embrace. The opportunity is taken to allow her digestion of the information. Every word he says, every truth of Beqanna, are knives burying deeper into her flesh. The news is ripping her heart from her chest and choking her with emotion. All he can do is watch and wish he could mend her pain, but her life and her memories were invested in the lands Beqanna lost. Everything she has ever known is gone. With a roll of his shoulders and a dropped expression he makes a placid offer, one that he places his own heart into. ”Come to Ischia with me,” it isn’t the Dale or the Falls or the Desert, but in a small way it’s a mixture of each. ”It’s an island north of here. It truly is beautiful there, a paradise with beaches, freshwater springs, and tropical forests.” A smile tries to spread across his golden lips, his gentle gaze finding hers. ”I was King of the Dale once, and though it may be gone, the memories are still with me just as those of your home are forever with you. We must move on and continue to live, to thrive.” It’s in this moment that he finally reaches forward and nudges her in comfort.



    TIPHON
    STARLACE AND INFECTION



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