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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


    [open]  I need noise, I need the buzz of a sub [ANY]
    #1
    The best thing about the Meadow, Circinae concluded, was that it was simultaneously a wonderful spot to disappear in, or to stand out. Admittedly, she was one of the latter - what with her springtime coat and her faded denim hair, which seemed almost royally purple in this particular light - but that had never really been a bother for her, especially when the colors came as wildly as one could imagine. Besides, she’d only come here for the possibility of stumbling on something or someone new, not to make a scene of herself.

    She could do that anytime she wished. One of her gifts had returned, bringing with it the uncertainty that used to follow her around like a scummy dog. She’d never truly learned to master the wolf form, like her father and half-siblings before her, only managed to wrestle something of a shift before the mountain had risen and swept away all of her concerns. And there was a second gift, still hidden and unknown to her, that lingered at the back of her thoughts as she waded through the bright green stalks of new spring grass. 

    Time, she assumed, would unravel those mysteries if she sought them eagerly enough, so she continued on her path (grabbing a bite when she saw the opportunity) in hopes that it would lead her to anything that could cure the boredom of a quiet day.
    Circinae
    I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
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    #2
    idk what this trash is. sowwrrrryy.
    @[Toli]



    Kilte
    R
    the feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
    K

    ilter was uncertain of everything. Death’s purpose for him, why his Angel had chosen to save him, who he was, or where his family had lingered off to. The little lupine boy had just begun to unravel what life truly had to offer. He had only ever had his wolves, the magical things of the Valley that had become his family, and the lone stallion who watched him, Ruan.. And now, now he had Death looming over him, and an Angel by his side. He knew nothing of the magic running through his blood; his ability to move things with his mind. He knew nothing of his father;a chaotic magician who cared for little but himself. And he knew nothing of Beqanna; a vast land of magic and might that he had only seen one corner of.
    But today, that would change. Death had brought Kilter and his Angel to Pangea, the barren wasteland that reeked of dismay - it was a poor choice for a young child. His Angel had done well, finding what nourishment she could and seeking shelter to keep them warm through winter. But the snow had melted, the cold tucked away for next year; and while Death still kept his grasp on Kilter, the boy sought for more. He was no longer weak and trembling at Death’s door. He had flourished under the Angel’s care in the past few weeks, and was restless with the energy he had discovered.
    “Please, please can we go? I promise I won’t wander far. I swear I’ll listen to everything you say.” He had begged his Angel, the fire haired mare who was constantly by his side. He wanted to see the edges of Beqanna, he wanted to see more. Pangea was too quiet, and no place for a boy like him to make friends. His Angel relented, because it seemed the only thing she wanted was to see Kilter smile. (Little did the wolvine boy know that there was so much more going on inside that mind). And off they went, to the meadow of Beqanna, which Kilter had never seen.
    The journey seemed long, and Kilter’s still-weak legs tired, but as they crested the meadow, the weary was worth it. The silver boy bounded throughout the growing grass; flora and fauna a sight for sore eyes after his stay in Pangea. His spindly legs flouted him throughout the meadow, his eyes taking hold of each flower and creature and sight (with equal measure to look back to his Angel).
    And there before him stood a woman of green - her skin a ramptan color of the rainbow - the only other soul that Kilter had seen, save for his Angel, with such a tumultuous color. “Hi.” Shyly, he steps forward - his eyes fixed to the rippling green and purple before him.

    k i l t e r
    eight and topsail’s timid telekinetic
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    #3
    -Raeg'n-
    Sometimes it flashed through her mind, the day she was called to him. He had been so frail, so thin. Starving. Barely breathing, barely alive. So very weak as the demon stood over him, speaking sweetly, making promises to save his life and give him purpose. And he'd innocently consented.

    It locked into place within her, her entire reason for being placed on this earth by her angel mother. She caught that demon's scent, recognized it instantly, and placed herself protectively before the boy. A small battle ensued, but the damage had been done. The boy had agreed, and Deimos would ensure he kept to it by any means necessary, and she'd not let him go without her protection. She was meant for this. She was his and he would be saved.

    "Please, please can we go? I promise I won't wander far. I swear I'll listen to everything you say." He begged her, pleaded to escape their prison for just a while. She'd stared hard at him without a word as she considered. Outwardly, she appeared stern, while inwardly she was roiling in worry and fear for him. For them. She had limits, weaknesses he wasn't privy to, kept safely secret within her. To all others, she was invincible, impervious. But she knew the truth.

    Her brows were pulled tight together, a frown that was both hard and concerned. She didn't know the first thing about raising a child, she was just barely grown from her own childhood, but he craved adventure and freedom as deeply as her own wild heart did. They had kept closer to Pangea to keep him safe, because it was the demon's wish that they remain there. But he was all-powerful wasn't he? And he would find them regardless when he decided it was time to use his new tool and the guardian that remained attached to him.

    She gave him a short nod, and let him lead, her eyes passing over their surroundings as always. When they reached the meadow, he bounded off as though he hadn't a care in the world. It tugged a smile from her, enjoying the opportunity to see him as he should be: happy, free of worries. Just a child. She should do better at carrying their burdens for him. This light in his eyes was worth whatever cost that may be.

    She raced after him easily, her coat the color of Heaven's night and hair the nebula orange of undiscovered galaxies. He approached a woman, the only other she'd ever seen as brightly colored as herself, and she fell in behind him. Then she remembered he probably wanted space, and stepped aside a ways with a grimace.

    "Hi," he greeted her shyly, and Raeg'n simply nodded her own silent hello from where she was, content to let him interact as though he was not constantly watched and hovered over. Guarded. Safe. Always. Her gaze wandered blankly, wondering the likelihood anyone would recognize her. Lauchlan..
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    #4
    His silver coat had caught her eye at first. The sun winked for a moment over the bright hillock and suddenly she found herself staring at the spindly fellow as he barreled his way through. The unsteady gait hovering on confidence, the determined yet weary mask he wore like a badge reminded her of fond memory ... but that foal was a girl, and her color had been copper bright, not a dusky pewter. No, this was not her ward, and still she smiled all the same as he drifted to a standstill before her with a tentative “Hi”. It felt good to be acknowledged after so many silent days.

    “Well, hello there!” She replies with an amused smile, her own bright eyes darting upwards to where the velveteen blue mare lurks behind him. The two-toned guardian of his offers only a curt nod in place of a happy greeting, a fact which Circinae finds odd parts interesting and comical. A precaution, no doubt, to keep her focus on one object, but the tense note of her shoulders and the faint whiff of anxiety from her sweat would alert any focused predator …

    Circinae sneezes and the odor is gone, leaving only the realization that she’d lost herself and that she’d drawn out an awkward silence. “Pollen.” She offers as an excuse, laughing softly. “I’m Circy, nice to meet you. Is your friend always so quiet?”
    Circinae
    I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
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    #5
    Kilte
    R
    the feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
    I

    ’m sure it was quite strange for his Angel to see him so lackadaisical – the silver boy was usually quite demure, quiet, and stern in his actions. The brazen winter and Death seemed to harden him to the usual things that brought joy to young children. The Angel followed him, her dark coat and his pale one creating a universe – a star amid the night sky, a whole world of possibilities stretching before them. (Though, not really – their only possibility was Death; Deimos never far from where they were). It was a comfort to the young lupine, though – his life had been riddled with solitude and hardship, and to have the Angel by his side was a welcome relief.
    She stays wary and away as Kilter approaches Circinae, perhaps as a nod to his budding confidence – but ever so polite is she as she nods in greeting. The forest mare before him is bright and cheerful, her voice ringing a greeting that seems to carry no ill will. Circy, Kilter greedily drinks in the name – the first soul for him to meet save for Death, Ruan, and his Angel. She sneezes, and Kilter hops slightly in surprise, his eyes momentarily going wide before a small peel of laughter falls from his mouth- “Bless you!”
    He looks back to his Angel and bumps her side lightly with his – a clash of star and night. “This is Raeg’n, my Angel.” His face alights in an uncharacteristic childish grin at the words; the first time he has spoken aloud the fact that he had an angel all to himself. “I’m Ruan. We live in Death’s house.” Words flowed through him, surprising himself. Raeg’n and Kilter spoke in short bursts, their words communicated mostly through body, eyes, the feeling in the air. “Are you an angel too?” Her vast coloring, though not in hue to Raeg’ns, was unique and strange – perhaps all angels wore colors.
    He looked to his Angel once more - “Is she an angel too? She’s got colors on her skin like you.”

    k i l t e r
    eight and topsail’s timid telekinetic
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    #6
    -Raeg'n-
    She felt a trickle of envy as the woman greeted her boy with such grace and an easy, bright smile. There was a girl somewhere beneath her stiff exterior that wondered if she would ever be so beautiful, but she quickly stamped it down. She had more important things to worry about. Most of all, him.

    Something in the woman's eyes, or maybe posture, changed subtly and had Raeg'n instinctively moving a step closer to Ruan, her eyes flickering narrow and back again warily. But the dark emerald mare just sneezed -causing Ruan to jump in surprise-, and the air cleared again to a friendly meeting of strangers. Circy, she said, then asked if Raeg'n was always so quiet. Although, she'd said "friend" and Raeg'n wasn't really sure if she was that, or even if she knew how to be.

    "Bless you," he said, giving Raeg'n a bump to the shoulder that immediately warmed her honey eyes. The smile hiding in the corner of her mouth grew as he introduced her, his Angel. She still loved that he thought of her that way. It was validating that she was recognized for what she was meant for. Hearing him say it almost felt like home in some way.

    Then he surprised her and asked a needling question that she was also wondering but refused to ask; if Circy was an angel too. She supposed there must be more somewhere, but she'd never met any. In fact, she was usually brushed off at the mention of it, like a child with wild imaginings. She supposed if there were other angels, or descendants of, they would also have strange colors like her, so maybe Circy was?

    I don't know of any others, she told him in quiet honesty with a slight shrug. Perhaps she is.
    Then she looked back to the woman and waited for her explanation on her unique colors.

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    #7
    The ease she displays with little Ruan is only something that’s been tempered into her nature with experience. Raeanne had not been this young when the two had first crossed paths - she remembers that much. No, the girl had been older, a much more confusing abandonment in Circinae’s eyes. The beginning had been rough, with them exchanging few phrases and Circinae trying hard not to invade her new companions space. But time had changed all of that, and now the silence that surrounded her every day and every night seemed like the ghost of a thing she could never put into words.

    “An Angel, Death’s house, and you’re asking if I’m a mythical being too?” She chuckled, head tilting sideways with the force of his enrapturing innocence. “You’re the most interesting colt I think I’ve ever met.” Circy concluded, choosing then to follow his gaze and turn her attention back to his protector. “Perhaps she is.” The other mare muses, and Circinae can only force a brittle smile into place over her teeth while the other’s eyes prod her for information. ’More along the lines of a demon, kiddo.’ She mused inwardly, always aware of the predator that lurked inside.

    “My sire was painted like a peacock, sorry to disappoint you Ruan.” She answers finally, shrugging her shoulders to emphasize the dullness of it all. With a flick of her tail the let down is swept away and a beaming grin bows over her lips. “So what brings you all the way from Death’s house to the meadow, hmm?” She asks, focus centered on the silver boy while the question hangs openly between all three of them.
    Circinae
    I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
    HTML by Call
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    #8
    Kilte
    R
    the feelin' like you're smilin' even brighter when the weather's shit
    S

    trange how companionship spreads from abandonment. Beqanna was rife with young souls who had been shirked by their parents – products of rape, or lack of interest, or the pure fact that mother just had a child each year and at some point, they had to grow up and on their own. And then there were the angels who stepped in, who spread their wings like a safe haven and provided comfort and care. Did Circinae have a past like this too? Was she once an angel and protector like Raeg’n? The ease and lackadaisical, easy conversation seemed to hint at such – although Kilter wouldn’t be one to know. His experience with adults had been a too busy mother, a corrupt father, silent Ruan, imprisoning Death, and his Angel. Even his Angel had been tepid at first (although tepid could be exchanged for wary, on guard for danger) - she handled Kilter like a responsibility sometimes, eat – sleep – shelter – danger, and was just beginning to crack open her outer shell – share smiles with him, soft nudges, and tender teasing.
    His Angel shrugged – an answer she could not give – and Kilter responded with a small tightening of his brow before looking to Circinae for an answer. It came in the form of a peel of laughter, easy and light hearted. Kilter’s eyes widened with an innocent disbelief- she had called Kilter interesting. Interesting ; a word he had never been described as before. His mother was interesting; morphing to a Jurassic creature at will, his siblings were interesting; gifted with the ability to talk without speech, his father was interesting; an all-powerful being, his Angel was interesting; a gift from the gods. But he? He was just a silver sliver in life. He was barely surviving at best (at least no longer half dead). He had no special ability, no powerful position; he was even identical in look to his sibling. Interesting was not what he would call himself- and so he made a face, half concentration and half doubt.
    So she was not an angel, just magnificently colored. Kilter sighed, the proposition of two angels had been exciting – Raeg’n could have finally had a friend like her. But he understood, sometimes it was just the way things were. “My father could change colors, but never like a peacock. I’m not as interesting as anything like you or him or my Angel.” Kilter remembered vaguely his mother explaining to his brother, who so adamantly asked why he couldn’t look like father instead of the triplets – his father changed his coat so they would all look just like mother. The things men did for women.
    Circy is quick to push past Kilter’s impending disappointment and carries on the conversation. Kilter shrugs, peeking towards Raeg’n, unsure if he’s equipped to handle this question. “Death hasn’t come for me yet, so my Angel thought we could explore. Death’s home doesn’t have much.” Again, Kilter looks to Raeg’n - unsure of what next. He had never been taught socialization very well, his life had been spent with the wolves, and body language and calling out to one another had been the best he knew.

    k i l t e r
    eight and topsail’s timid telekinetic
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    #9
    -Raeg'n-
    "You're the most interesting colt I think I've ever met."
    Her navy ears flicked back at the compliment to her boy, somehow annoyed with the glow of wonder it put to his face. Perhaps she should've been telling him such things, but she didn't think he needed to hear them. Didn't he already know? But the woman was continuing and denied any mystical origins with a shrug, and asked what brought them here to the Meadow.

    Raeg'n listened attentively as he spoke of his father, someone that could change colors, but deflected any hint that he might be as interesting as any of them. She frowned delicately but didn't correct him. His silver was brilliant, perfect. It could be subtle and attractive, or radiant and glowing. It played with the sunlight, danced with the moonlight, shined and glimmered against her night-sky blue. It was perfect. Didn't he think so too? She almost felt a little hurt at that, but she wasn't sure why.

    Her face carefully smoothed as he answered Circy then looked to her for guidance, uncertainty taking claim over his handsome face. It was always this way for them; he was given free rein, and when he hesitated she stepped in, when he doubted she affirmed, when he faltered she held him steady. But he was ever the star and light in this duo. So she answered naturally that silent ask for assistance, and fell into the lead once again.

    We will do as we please, she said pointedly. He would be free, he would live a fun and adventurous childhood and she would keep the demon at bay. She was determined to let him live carefree, and didn't add that it may be only temporary. Perhaps it could be permanent when the beast came for him. She fully intended to be the one he clawed and sliced, or the one he bartered in whatever dark dealings he had in mind.

    We do whatever we want, she reaffirmed with a smile and an eager light in her eyes. They would race across the territories, or dance in the night if they wished. They would train and spar, and whatever happened, he would be happy. Raeg'n turned her warm honey eyes to Circy then, sharing that smile with their new acquaintance.

    What about you, Circy? What brings you to the Meadow?
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    #10
    Little Ruan’s words are strange - all this talk about Death and the need for a constant guardian should seem like a child’s fantasy gone too far. Circinae, however, knows better than to discredit the weight of the youngling’s explanation. Calm waters on the surface never revealed what could be lurking beneath. His ‘Angel’, Raeg’n, also gave the wolf girl reason to be wary; the untrusting eyes, the pointed, clipped phrases, her obvious affection and devotion to the little creature who looked nothing like her. Red flags whipped to attention in Circy’s mind. “Your Angel has a point.” The green mare comments, after Raeg’n has spoken and left her burning gaze to settle upon her.

    “Adventure is just the cure for getting one’s mind off death.” She tells him, nodding to affirm the choice they’d made. “I guess I came here looking for adventure too .. or really, to make some new friends.” She explains, a broad smile winding across her lips as she returns Raeg’n’s stare. ‘That’s right,’ She thinks, ‘I’m not completely evil.’ Circy liked the boy, and her curiosity over his situation was only growing, so she needed his guard dog to keep her teeth in check for the moment, least the orange-trimmed woman felt threatened. “Would you like to be my friend, Ruan?” She asks, ears tipping upright in eager anticipation. “I don’t have very many.”

    She wants, very badly, to discover more about just what exactly was going on here, to see if (maybe, just maybe) she could be of any help. Secrets were dangerous when kept, even more so when shared - but if one expected to face a foe whose name was “death”, they would need all the help they could get, Angel or not. “And you too, of course, Raeg’n.” She summarizes, eyes locking with an intensity that couldn’t be avoided. “Perhaps I could even adventure with you two for a little while.”
    Circinae
    I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
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