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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


    to all the things I’ve lost on you; ellyse/any
    #1
    Burning like embers, falling, tender ---
    --- Longing for the days of no surrender
    She remained sure-footed amongst the large boulders that littered the bare earth of the bank that ran alongside the meandering river. The spring floods had long come and past, making the river not so dangerous to traipse through as it had slowed and receded from its banks during the hot summer months. It was still fairly warm enough for an autumn day and the golden girl had spent the last hour or so wading through the moving waters at the river’s edge.  

    Despoine had been one of the many victims in the aftermath of the Reckoning. A golden childhood spent with her family in the Valley had swiftly made way to chaotic events that had separated her from both her blood and her community. The girl had continued on her own, passing through her gangly adolescence into the leggy well-built woman she was now, thanks to her Iberian blood. She had finally grown out of the awkwardness of losing her fangs in place of big golden wings. She currently had them tucked away, refraining from dragging her pinfeathers through the water like she was sorely tempted to do.

    She still retained her natural curiosity and playfulness, but it had been dampened by an isolating loneliness that encompassed her. Despoine had found it rather difficult to thrust herself into an unfamiliar kingdom filled with indifferent strangers. Instead, she wandered the free lands in hopes of finding her lost family members. The golden girl was aware that she had several siblings, but most had already left the nest before she had been born. She didn’t know if she would be able to recognize any of them unless they favored her moth-father or snake-mother. She certainly didn’t carry any outward identifiers with the exception of the gold that made up her skin.

    A fluttering moth flew across her vision before darting back into the cover of the forest. Bittersweet amber eyes followed its movements before she determinedly forged ahead. The midday sun lent her coat a sheen while a gentle breeze blew through the dying foliage and ruffled her ivory locks. Soon the river would be too cold for her to bear and she would retreat deeper into the forest as winter settled upon the land. For now, she could enjoy the wide open space and the sight of others enjoying the river as she passed by them with a nod in greeting.
    Despoine
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