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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


    you're the beacon / amorette
    #1
    W
    ound can’t deny she enjoys spring. Although the temperature change on Tephra is minuscule, she feels rejuvenated as winter pulls away into the shadows. There had been many years of her life spent in that darkness — swirling among the crooked trees and hidden forests. Her brothers, ever protective and careful, urged her to remain in the corners of Beqanna that few travel. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that Wound fully stepped into the light.

    She hasn’t looked back since then.

    Now she can feel the sun on her shoulders as she stands on the beachfront. With Tephra being an island, there is no direction she cannot go where she will not run into water. The ocean stretches before her, reflective in the pale blue of the sky above, but she can see a hint of Beqanna’s shoreline out of the corner of her right eye.

    The silvery mare inhales a slow, cleansing breath. The sting of salty air floods her nostrils, but she is well-used to it by now. The scents of her childhood were those of decomposition and dark forests and wet, thick leaves. But the scents of her life now (a life she treasures dearly) are those of smoke and salt and deliciously warm sunlight. Wound closes her eyes for a moment, reflecting on how far she’s come, while the sun heats her shoulders and the ocean laps at her ankles.
    credit to nat of adoxography.

    @[Amorette]
    #2

    Fire, water, earth and air. It does not matter to which element one leans, Tephra offers plenty for all of them. The volcano is obvious home to fire, there is no denying in that. Water surrounds the island, and is to be found in the plenty streams and ponds. There is plenty of land and mountains for those who feel at home in and around earth to make themselves comfortable. Last, but not least, air, something which every land has. In Tephra those who have wings don’t run into obstacles like trees, and the volcano is a great flight lane.

    Amorette clearly affinity with fire. It does goes back to her birth home, but the living mountain has also given her the ability to heal. Mostly fire is used to destroy, but not when the ebony mare wields it. It would be a lie to say that she does not enjoy the irony.

    But the volcano is not all that she loves about Tephra. The waters are just another thing. Today it is not the heated pond, her heavy legs require something else. The last stage of her pregnancy weights his toll, and the lack of moving does not really help either. Amore’s legs are all swollen, full of fluids, and she is in dire need to sooth them. Something the seawater would do just fine.

    It is there that she runs into Wound. Although they aren’t strangers to one another, they have yet to get acquainted. ”Hello there” she kindly greets the greying bay mare. She’d meant to offer her fellow diplomat a dip of her head, but instead a relieved sigh escapes past her lips. For a short moment Amore’s eyes fall half closed, shifting her weight from one leg to another, unable to not groan softly as the fresh water sooths some of the soreness of her legs.

    Amorette

    Quand on n'a que l'amour.

    #3
    W
    hile Amorette enjoys the irony of her ability to heal with something which destroys, Wound finds it ironic that she happens to be reflecting upon her past pregnancy when a pregnant mare waddles up alongside her. It has been a year since Wishbone’s birth and the silvery mother cannot believe it has already been that long. Hadn’t she just been in this same place, sighing as the salty waves soothed her aching heels?

    A sincere, warm smile drips over her lips at the other mare’s greeting. She’s seen her before among Tephra’s common areas (their meetings, in passing, even in the clearings of Beqanna’s commons) but they had never officially met before. “Ahh, honey, I remember the ocean feeling damn good on my swollen legs too.” Wound’s voice is fond in remembrance.

    A tendril of envy crawls through her stomach. Wishbone has been drawing further from her side then she did as a child — which is saying something — and the absence of her daughter has left the diplomat curiously lonely. “I’m Wound. I don’t believe we’ve properly met.”
    credit to nat of adoxography.

    @[Amorette]
    #4

    The comfortable companionship is instantly there. They do know of one another, though nobody had ever introduced them to one another. And yet, to Amorette, it feels like they already know each other well. Perhaps it is their shared home, the effort put into diplomacy, and the amount of love they have to share.

    “It would have been nice if I had thought of this earlier” she replies with a light chuckle in her voice. But alas, the volcano and her fire had been in the center of her mind, and not the its rivalling element. Something she does regret now. “But I can only agree, it does feel damn good.”

    Unlike Wound, the ebony woman has struggled with her pregnancy, she still does. She does not regret the deed, nor can she be upset about the father, but she shouldn’t have hoped. They are not, and will not be, the family she wants. It is the truth Amore knows, but which she has yet to find peace with. Because of his absence, Amorette had wrapped the cloak of loneliness around her own shoulders, and she is not a solidary creature.

    “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Wound. I’m Amorette.” Not that they didn’t know each other’s names, but it felt nice to finally exchange these pleasantries. In any other situation Amore would have offered her nose, to exchange scents, but she does not feel the desire to move, her swollen legs are refusing to move.

    Another soft groan spills from her lips, as she shifts her weight from one hind leg to the other, again. “Will it ever get better?” she asks, her head dipping a little lower in an attempt to relax. Which was pretty damn hard in her current condition.

    Amorette

    Quand on n'a que l'amour.





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