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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]  The winds of change come swiftly flowing;
    #1
    The dawning of a new day finds the painted mare of tawny color standing picturesque against the hues of pink and orange that break over the horizon. Paperthin nostrils flare as the woman exhales a sharp breath, the exchange of oxygen evident in the cloud of smoke-like haze that disappears quickly. Fierce ice colored eyes gaze fearlessly upon the scene that lay before her, a sight that is no different than one she has seen countless times. Crystaline droplets cling to her damp mane still, forming crystals of ice in the cold winter chill but she does not shiver or shake in the cold. There is no fear in her eyes, no weakness... she had come.

    Wanheda stood on the hillside, as the winter wind buffeted against her, blowing snow and grit into her eyes and whipping the threads of her salt encrusted black mane into a disheveled tangle. She looked every bit the part of the dirty wandering traveler. But that did not phase her. Despite that fact, her finely chiseled head was held high in self pride and worth. Her glacier gaze is both shrewd and irritated though there is no true purpose behind it. Sure the winter zephyrs did their best to knock her off her high horse and cause her body, still damp from the ocean swim to shake, but she fights the urge.

    Raven tipped sonars lace tightly against her skullcap as a mare lingers close to her. Blunt ivory teeth clack together and bare venomously towards her with a purposeful stomp of her hoof until the pitiful creature takes the hint and quickly retreats a few yards away. She did not snort, neither does a sigh escape her lips, although some forgotten part of her wanted to; she was harder than that, now Time had changed her. Age and experience had made it so, had shut down self-pity. The lithe girl of brandished gold forced herself to be calm, counting out each breath until they began to slow and she felt her heart unclench and the muscles beneath her taunt skin relax. This place was new... and she too had the opportunity to rebuild herself, mold herself into something she was not now... the only challenge would be to force her heart and mind to come together and understand that.

    She forces herself to relax now, letting her senses become enveloped by the strong scents of pine and cedar and fresh snow. A single dial flickers as the dancing girl lets her white hind leg cock against the ground, doing her best to appear calm, innocent and naïve. It was time to see what would come to her, what creatures would dare to leave the shadows of the forest and break into the open of the field... see who was brave enough to approach her. It was time to make a new home here in a new world.


    OOC: forgive the blah the next will be better... idk what happened lol
    Wanheda
    we are one clan and this is our home;
    pic courtesy of mutednight @ deviantart
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    #2
    Golden tipped ears are pinned forward and his equally gold, short fluffy tail happily swaying. He was the curious type, the one to go on adventure and explore without even realising there might be danger out there. Usually Ander kept to Taiga itself, the massive redwood forest had enough to explore and still so much more too see. He had followed the tracks of a little animal out of the forest that was his home, curious to learn to what creature they belonged. Unaware that he had left Taiga, even crossed a river, through the forest and now had ended up in the field.

    Little did he know his mother was right behind him, though hidden from sight.

    Unable to control his gift, the snow melts right under his hooves, leaving a trail that was impossible to miss. This thin coat would’ve normally only been fit for summer, but the cold doesn’t touch Ander. It wasn’t like he wasn’t familiar with it, it was just that he was perfectly able to keep himself warm. And he preferred warmth over the cold. It comes so natural to him too, the thought that it wasn’t normal never striking his thoughts.

    Well, it was normal in Beqanna, right? Magic was all around them.

    Somewhere during his trip he had lost sight of the tracks he had been following, instead his attention is on another horse. Or two, actually. The pretty golden and black and white mare seems to not like another, who’s retreating figure is not interesting to Ander. His golden nostrils flare a little, ruby eyes locked on her as his ears tip forward.

    ”Hi” he greets her, his voice is soft but the wind carries it towards her. He follows not much later. He’s young, not even a month old, more like only two weeks. Not at all old enough to be out alone. But a perk of being this young was also not being aware of such thing. His head is dipped towards the ground, chewing like a foal to plea to not hurt it, showing how little he was.


    OOC: That picture of her is just fabulous! So gorgeous. Ander is still a little rough and rusty to write too, haven't really had the chance to play him yet, so please bear with me too Smile
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    #3
    I am not afraid... I was born to do this.
    ”Quite a spitfire,” an airy chuckle tumbles from her lips into the wintry breeze after moments of having watched the pair in the near distance. The field is cluttered with horses, a prominent area for those needing homes. Oftentimes Nayl evades the necessity of coming here as the thickness of the air – heavy with body heat and perspiration – deters her. Most days she takes to the coastline where she may lift her muzzle to the salty breeze and inhale the scent of the ocean, wondering what lies beyond the horizon.

    Today, however, she is compelled to find someone to bring home. It’s with piqued interest that she finds the fiery mare, enticed by the look in her eyes and poise. She isn’t a meager thing.

    She is strong-willed, much like the Queen herself.

    It’s after having approached them that she initially spoke. Her eyes, though dwelling longer on the mare, do fall to the young boy. Gold points. A trademark of her grandfather. Family. The idea catches and she almost breaches the subject, but the colt is far too young to know. So, she lets it pass unspoken.

    ”The name is Nayl,” she isn’t formal or eerily kind with bright eyes and broad smiles. Her face, though with a gaze of fire, is amiable enough but fierce. ”Perhaps you can put that attitude to good use,” it isn’t meant as a insult or jab; quite the contrary, actually, as Nayl rather enjoys mares with personalities. The women of Nerine can’t expect to uphold a reputation if their members have the personality of a limp noodle. Sweeping her tail across her hocks, she takes a quick glance toward the knots of horses surrounding them before glancing to the boy. ”I hope your mother is nearby,” she whispers harmlessly, her heart much larger than one would assume, but her attention lifts to the female again. ”Nerine is a far travel north. It’s on the coast, however, and filled with some fiery mares like yourself.” She chuckles then as she reflects on those she has come to enjoy the company of at home.



    queen of nerine
    daughter of covet & myrina
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