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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


    Wallace;
    #1
    BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
    OF MOVING ON
    He almost hesitated to find her, to address what elapsed during their first meeting. Somehow, she knew him. Although she said his name, it was with a barbed tongue that startled him. To have confronted her then, in the heated arrival of her family, would have been poor judgment on his part, so he bided his time. Once they determined their numbers and reassured all were safe, Tiphon slipped away since no one seemed to be in dire need of his assistance.

    They’ve since clustered the island, but he doesn’t at all mind. This is a sanctuary for all.

    Conversations ring across the open sky when Tiphon stirs from his rest and scales the hills and forests. His is lackadaisical in manner as he seizes the opportunity to observe and memorize the forgotten and overgrown trails. His molten eyes occasionally peer up at the palms then sideways to the gurgling stream. A smile gradually spreads as the sun blankets across his porcelain body. This could easily be home. It is just a matter of work and effort to dust away the cobwebs and entice many others to find refuge here. It will happen, he knows. Something in his gut tells him it will work out.

    It’s during his musings that Tiphon finally discovers her. A smile threatens to broaden across his handsome face, but he suppresses it with the reminder of their latest encounter. Stepping out from the sea of tropical plants, he finds himself in front of her. ”Hello again,” he begins slowly, his mind already reeling. The way she knew him – and greeted him – was enough cause of concern, but what worried him most is that he remembers nothing but others remember him. ”We’ve met before, but I genuinely cannot remember. I’m sorry.” The confession hesitates in his throat. He shifts uncomfortably as a sense of failure washes across him, choking him of air until he musters the strength to swallow it and ask for help.

    ”Can you remind me? Maybe tell me if we have a history? I only remember the name of Ischia, but nothing more.”

    TIPHON
    STARLACE AND INFECTION


    @[Wallace]
    Reply
    #2

    Lacey

    She was tired of the pain. After so long, it should've turned to numbness. Wasn't it always supposed to go numb at some point? But it never did, not really. She had no reason to love this deep, not especially him. Not after everything. Not when he'll never let himself be enough. Not when she could never possibly be enough. She was too plain, too young. Her love was too real. She wanted too much.

    So she was fatigued when Tiphon found her, emotionally drained just enough not to be numb, as usual. She'd love to not feel it anymore. Instead, she still suffered the pain and didn't give a damn about much of anything. He stood in front of her, slipping into existence between the trees. She sighed softly. She didn't have the care for this. For anything.

    "Hello again."
    Her brown eyes were sharp, staring boldly at him and waiting.
    "We've met before, but I genuinely cannot remember. I'm sorry."

    The muscle in her jaw twitched and she cut her gaze away. Yeah. She was pretty forgettable. She was nothing. Got it, loud and clear. Nothing new there. She started walking away from him. If all he was going to do was remark on just how unremarkable she was then she'd rather be somewhere else.

    "Can you remind me? Maybe tell me if we have a history? I only remember the name of Ischia, but nothing more."

    She stopped and looked back at him, her eyes narrowing. He'd never been one to lie, or intentionally cause someone hurt. Perhaps she was letting her damned brokeness warp her world. It consumed her, this pain, this ache. It was all she'd ever know anymore.

    "You helped Ea lead. And Ashley." The magician had given her hair back after it'd been shorn off, grew it out to be softer and more beautiful. It didn't make her any more attractive or likeable. He'd healed her physically, save for the scars drawn in a lace pattern on her hips. But she hadn't seen him since the Invasion, when he'd betrayed Ea. And Ischia. And her. And she hadn't seen Tiphon for longer than that.

    "Our history was nothing. It doesn't matter."
    Nothing did.

    "Was there something else you needed?"
    No, of course not. Not from her.
    She was sharp and abrasive and she was nothing.

    Reply
    #3
    BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
    OF MOVING ON
    It doesn’t escape his notice how tartly she reacts to him, how easy it is for her to scoff and turn away. He reads all of this, wanting nothing more than to peel back the layers and investigate further. There are reasons for this, but he cannot fathom. Had he been cruel before? A contributor to the darkness that now shrouds Beqanna? It worries him, and the concern reaches his face as he looks at her, his smile immediately faltering.

    ”Ea,” he echoes with a frown, his expression furrowed thoughtfully but with no success. ”And Ashley? Two mares?” Was that truly how Ischia came to be? Him with two women at his side? It escapes him that Ashley had been a male, and that Ea was truly the leader among them while Tiphon merely supported her and the vision she had for their home. All the memories and the roles he played once before escape him, but he doesn’t understand why. The names she offers and the punctuated explanation only frustrate him further, but not toward her – at himself. ”No,” he reiterates with a shrug, ”they don’t ring a bell.” Even with her eyes trained on him, Tiphon wracks his mind hoping that something – anything – will shake loose. He has no memory of what he had once been, and the fact of it haunts him as Wallace snaps at him, still irritated.

    A low hum vibrates through his core as his molten eyes fall to the sand before climbing back up to her face where he tries desperately to search her eyes for the reasons that do not come.

    Our history was nothing, she quips. It doesn’t matter. Tiphon didn’t realize how her response would stab into him, twisting deeper into his heart. ”Then why do you seem mad?” Wallace is the first – and only – one to recognize him from a life he has no recollection of. She is a flame, he a moth; he flocks to her, wants to be as close as he can and hear her reminisce. The magnetism edges him a step closer and keeps her from leaving. ”It does matter.” He pauses, refraining yet from lifting her chin in kindhearted hopefulness because that can’t fix everything. ”It matters to me.” And it does, truly. His heart yearns to mend her wounds, to apply a balm to the pain of her past misgivings in life. If he had been cruel then, he wants to rectify it as much as he can. He wants to make right of what he did wrong.

    With a heavy breath, Tiphon drops his head to below hers for a few heartbeats, mulling over what may come. ”Tell me everything.”

    TIPHON
    STARLACE AND INFECTION


    @[Wallace]

    She could mess with him or be sweet or get the man of her dreams hahaha
    Reply
    #4

    Lacey

    The corner of her mouth tightened, quirked a little, when he assumed Ashley was a second mare. Hah! He was attractive enough, sure. But no, certainly not two mares.

    He seemed to be struggling with it though, this apparent lack of memory. She could do with a lack of memory, personally. There was one that had offered once... But she'd hoped there was some wisdom in remembering. She might've been wrong. There seems to be only pain and longing.

    Her amusement was gone.

    She told them their history doesn't matter and he questioned that, asked why did she seem mad then? She scoffs softly, her eyes turning away. She was not mad, not in the sense that he'd meant it. Perhaps there was a madness instead.

    The air shifted and he moved closer, pulling her eyes warily to him as she watched. There was an intensity to it that set her on edge, set her heart racing. Then again there was this gorgeous guy walking up to her, so how could she not be suddenly on edge?

    "It does matter. It matters to me."

    Had his voice gotten softer? She observed him quietly, wondering at what direction this meeting would take.

    "Tell me everything."

    She looked away. Took a breath. Started walking. "It doesn't matter, Tiphon. You didn't even like me." Nobody does. She wasn't walking away this time, more of a silent invitation to join her if he wished, otherwise she'd just carry on as she had been. She can't imagine anyone wanting to be in her company for longer than was necessary anyway.

    "I was nearly just a child." Even now, she was not much older. Three years, maybe. Time had passed differently in Reilly's homeland when they'd gone for a visit. And came back to the world ending, or some such hysteria.

    She'd been so bold and fiery the last time he knew her. That probably didn't help his lapse in memory of her. She was so different now. So worn and broken now.

    "Where have you been, Tiphon?" she asked quietly, turning a glance on him and holding it.

    Reply
    #5
    BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
    OF MOVING ON
    She scoffs, she looks away, she hesitates. Everything points him to her agitation and to her unwillingness to divulge, but he almost retracts his question. Does it hurt her so much to admit what may or may not have happened? Ideas tumble around in his head, unrestrained and boggled. Nothing makes sense. He cannot grasp what he doesn’t know. Quietly, Tiphon’s jaw clenches under the pressure of simply not knowing. They say ignorance is bliss, and yet he finds himself brimming with confusion and a need to know. Tell me, he almost repeats, but Wallace begins walking away with a sense of dismissal hanging from the edge of her tongue.

    Naturally, he follows her, keeping close to her side as his wings first shuffle in anticipation then fall still with disbelief.

    ”I didn’t like you?” His eyes narrow in bewilderment, his head spinning with reasons why, but he can’t come to a conclusion. ”Why? You seem pleasant enough. That doesn’t make sense,” he remains adjacent to her, never letting her slip from his grasp when she has the answers he so desperately crave. ”I must’ve been a damn fool.” He cannot blame her youth when she offers it so willfully. His rebuttal is a quiet, dismissing shake of his head. No, he was the problem – not her. What could she have possibly done that would’ve deterred him? Although she is rather quick to try pushing him aside, he cannot picture anything worse than that. ”I’m sorry.” The two words are thick with sincerity, coupled with an expression that softens the chiseled edges of his face.

    It would be easy to simply tell her that he doesn’t know, that his memory is simply lacking, but Tiphon tries to dive deeper. His brow furrows in concentration and his lips purse tightly in a thin line. He wills images and memories to mind, desperately wanting something to surface that had been so long suppressed, but his attempts are futile. A resigned sigh escapes him. ”I don’t know,” he confesses as his gaze falls, ”I just remember darkness. There was nothing around me. A voice woke me up saying that I needed to be a light in the darkness, but I didn’t know why. The voice told me my name and my parents, and I even have a twin… but nothing more. I remember nothing except the abysmal darkness I was trapped in.” He didn’t expect it to be so painful to admit. The crackling of his heart nearly echoes in his ears as his eyes lift again to meet hers, defeated.

    TIPHON
    STARLACE AND INFECTION


    @[Wallace]
    Reply
    #6

    this time I’m torn, please wake me if I lose that face
    search in these eyes: there’s still fire in the darkness

    She couldn't help but be surprised when he did indeed fall in step with her. Really, nobody but Reilly ever really wanted to be around her. It was baffling, but also easily explained away by the fact that he clearly didn't remember her. And now she was the one with the answers and that was all he wanted from her.

    It didn't make her heart any calmer though, to have a gorgeous guy walking at her side as if it was completely normal. Everyone hated her. She was so disliked. This was so strange. And stressful. And too easily enjoyable. She blushed and kept her eyes off him.

    "I didn't like you?" he asked, clearly confused which was a little baffling too except for that memory issue and all. "Why? You seem pleasant enough. That doesn't make sense." She nearly missed the last part for barking out a laugh so loudly, startled and, god, she couldn't even imagine someone would ever say that about her.

    "I must've been a damn fool," he admitted and she sucked in a quiet breath and blushed, glancing at him. He hadn't meant it like that, it's fine. Just a comment freely given, not that he found her at all attractive. Nobody ever found her at all attractive. Except of course Reilly, as always. "I'm sorry."

    She looked at him again, found herself blushing deeper at the genuine softening of his perfectly sculpted face. Ugh, she should not be the type to blush, but really she had only had one man a total of twice in her entire life and only held the interest of one other that was damn determined to pull her out of her isolation. Nobody else had ever shown her real attraction or even half-interest.

    Woolf sort of didn't count. If she remembered right, she'd sort of threw herself at him, as completely embarrassing as that was. She'd been lost in memories, though. So.

    But anyway.

    Tiphon wasn't attracted to her in the least and she was being ridiculous. She knew it. And she remained quiet as he thought deeper, trying to grasp at his ever-slippery memories. God, he looked so down and defeated after he explained he couldn't remember much of anything. Mostly just darkness. And a command to be the light in it all. Well, that made sense at least. He'd always been doing good when the world turns on its head.

    "You'll do wonderfully, Tiphon," she said with a glancing smile that was probably almost completely genuine. Smiles were difficult and rare. And Magical beings seemed pretty helpful and he was pretty magical. And she was pretty not, and completely useless. "You always have." Done wonderfully, she meant.

    "What do you plan for the Island? You have healers, you said? That will help. What else do you plan?"

    Wallace
    Reply
    #7
    BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
    OF MOVING ON
    He starves for answers, but Wallace gives him naught. Searching glances and dismissing sighs leave him empty-handed, staring at her in hopes that there will be more, that she will sate his hunger. Tell me, he had said, but still there is so little being added to the plate. Perhaps, it is for the best, he wonders. This could be a clean slate, a new beginning, because maybe he forgot his life for a reason. It isn’t an easy theory to swallow. His jaws clench tightly together as his molten eyes dart back and forth before lifting to hers again in time to see her smile. ”Will I though?” He answers uncertainly as his head tilts to the side. ”Have I?” Wallace reassures him that it will work out, that he will be as wonderful as he has always been. His head shakes, trying to rattle loose the thoughts crowding him – the fears, the disappointments, the possibilities – but everything clutches desperately to his consciousness, not wanting to let go or let him breathe.

    ”I didn’t like you and I had vanished. How is that at all wonderful?” There’s a rising sharpness in his voice as his face shadows in thought. Abruptly, Tiphon swerves away from her side, turning to the canal where he can see the mainland a short ways away. There are threads of his past twisted in the seams of this world, yet he remembers almost nothing of it.

    His head shakes.
    His breathing quickens at first, but he controls it again.
    He questions himself.

    When she asks for his plan, Tiphon initially looks down to the sand, watching as it shifts beneath his weight. Life seems so content here, in this moment. Families are reuniting. They are tending to one another. For the time being, everyone is as carefree as they can be despite the plague racing across the mainland. Shrugging, he eventually turns again to look at her, the sunlight dancing across his porcelain back. ”Yes, we have healers.” He doesn’t add that it appears not enough. Something is better than nothing. ”Everyone is bringing their families here now. It’s a refuge. I’m overseer, it seems, but I’m not making a call to order until much of the chaos has subsided. Who knows. Maybe when this plague ends, this island will disappear again.” He blinks and shuffles his wings, his musings fluttering across his mind.

    ”We will conquer this plague first and make everyone comfortable. Once Beqanna is healed, and if this island survives, then we will figure something out.” Not him, but ‘we.’ This isn’t a dictatorship. This isn’t solely his island. With open arms, he has welcomed a multitude of others as they flee from the sickness. It’s only right that they try making decisions together, to try developing a harmonious life. ”In the meantime, I want to know everyone. I want to see the families I’m trying to help,” a small grin softens the sharp edges of his face and breaks his spell of stoicism, ”And I want to know the real you. This is only a shell of what you were.” An assumption – a bold one – but he holds onto it, hoping that he is right, hoping that there is more underneath her jaded surface.

    TIPHON
    STARLACE AND INFECTION


    @[Wallace]
    Reply
    #8

    this time I’m torn, please wake me if I lose that face
    search in these eyes: there’s still fire in the darkness

    "I didn't like you and I had vanished. How is that at all wonderful?"

    He was sharper and swerved away from her, silent. Her eyes hardened warily, but she paused to wait for him, part of her hoping he wasn't jumping to some conclusion that it was her fault somehow that he'd lost his memories. After a time, he turned to her again, addressing her question regarding what his plans were.

    She listened patiently, catching glances of sunlight playing over his creamy skin, his glorious wings shuffling. She had only ever felt her son's wings, and her youngest adopted son's, and the curiosity whether Tiphon's were just as sleek or just as soft flew across her mind unbidden.

    "We will conquer this plague first and make everyone comfortable." Her eyes returned to him abruptly because she had not been staring. For very long, at least. "Once Beqanna is healed, and if this island survives, then we will figure something out." He said we and she knew that meant all those on the island, just as considerate as he had been before with the Ischians.

    "In the meantime, I want to know everyone. I want to see the families I'm trying to help." That was certainly the Tiphon she remembered, even having been only three years or so old at the time. She was twice that now. His softening features somehow softened hers too. Just a little. Until he spoke again and her eyes widened just slightly, her pulse quickening.

    "And I want to know the real you. This is only a shell of what you were."

    She looked away quickly. Did he even know how right he was? Was it just a guess or had he remembered something about them? She hoped he hadn't remembered. She hoped she still had a sliver of a chance to have a better relationship with him, even if she was only half a girl anymore.

    "Maybe I have forgotten me too," she replied quietly, sparing a glance at him beneath long lashes then looking away again, gazing over the canal he had paced to. "I don't know how to be me anymore. I think that girl may have died a long time ago." She was so miserable to be around, each word out of her mouth proved it. Her son had gotten the brunt of it with his naming. Kharon. The ferryman to death. And yet he'd always been so bright and happy until recently.

    "What makes you think there is more to me," she turned her head to challenge him, a wry smirk trying to tilt her mouth in one corner and her brow lifting in a graceful arch. The idea was quietly amusing, that he'd think she had anything more to her than this terrible appearance and her dreary manner. She hoped that wasn't hope sneaking in to kick her down and crush her.

    She was stuck like this. She would always be this way.

    Wallace
    Reply
    #9
    BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
    OF MOVING ON
    Wallace’s eyes open widely, and he quietly notices with a sideways glance. Her surprise almost elicits a grin – humored, at least – but somehow Tiphon manages to keep his expression contemplative. His brows furrow because he is still considering the possible outcome of their island. If it survives, what then? Who will stay? The magnitude of the situation didn’t get a chance to settle before he responded to her, but now its wake ripples in the forefront of his mind. His broad answer seems to have sufficed for now, but soon there will be a greater demand from him.

    Such as familiarizing himself with the population, just as a start.

    Looking at Wallace and seeing the dullness in her gaze confirms his beliefs. Her confession solidifies it. Intently, he listens and clutches the words tightly to his chest. He can relate, but at least her memory remains intact. She can likely recall what changed in her, how it happened. Unlike Tiphon, she can learn and move on if she so pleased.

    But her challenge almost seems to mean she doesn’t.

    ”Just a feeling,” he admits when their eyes hold onto each other, a crooked grin lifting the corner of his mouth. ”I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.” Not that it is bad, this subdued version of her with the dismissive eye rolls and quips. Wallace has already added color to his black-and-white world; she has added awe and fascination. Although there is doubt in her gaze, Tiphon’s opinion remains unyielding, his own face remaining softened by his grin. ”We can learn about ourselves together then,” if she has forgotten herself, her old self, then they already have something in common. They can try to piece themselves together, or they can reform in ways they never expected. ”It could be fun.” Tiphon breaks their distance; he shatters the space between them when he reaches forward to bump her shoulder. His muzzle presses to her soft skin, electricity shooting through him during the brief contact.

    When he withdraws, his smile wavers. It nearly flickers from existence but his eyes are still bright, still hopeful. ”When all of this is over – the plague, I mean – will you go back to Ischia? Or will you stay here with me?” If the island even survives, he thinks but never says in fear that it would make it true. The idea of their little paradise sinking beneath the waves churns his stomach, but he mutely vows to somehow keep it afloat.


    TIPHON
    STARLACE AND INFECTION



    @[Wallace]
    Reply
    #10

    this time I’m torn, please wake me if I lose that face
    search in these eyes: there’s still fire in the darkness

    That crooked grin looked a little too good on him and she glanced away with a subtle flush in her cheeks.

    "We can learn about ourselves together then. It could be fun."

    She turned a curious brown gaze on him. Fun? There had-- He sidled in closer, his shoulder bumping hers and his muzzle reaching out for her. Her breath caught and she tensed, blushing more. Nobody but Kerberos had ever touched her and even though this was so general, not at all as intimate, it still shocked her. Her heart raced and she glanced away again, uncure how to respond to such contact. Even as an orphaned girl on her own, she hadn't had such touches. Were they normal? Probably.

    Only so foreign to her.

    "When all of this is over – the plague, I mean – will you go back to Ischia? Or will you stay here with me?"

    There was a quiet echo in it, and he drew her eyes once more, studying his face for the genuinity she found there. Ischia had always been home though, even if he didn't remember it. It had been his, too. She shook her head a little, because when it came down to it, she went wherever her family was. Despite that she didn't fit in, would never fit in even with her own family she helped make, she stayed with them.

    "Ischia is where we belong, Tiphon," she reminded him gently, stepping nearer but not quite able to reach out for him even for a casual touch of reassurance. We meant him as well, though. "You led it. Ischia was likely created for you and Ea. And Ashley." Though that name now stings her with hurt, a wicked burn. How could he have turned on them that way? How could he have offered up their home, her family, to complete strangers with terrible intentions?

    "I remain with my family. I take them where it is safest. Ischia has been the only home they've known. I'd rather return them there if the plague can be healed from it, if they can be protected. It is where they were born, where I've lived since being nearly as young as they are now. Ischia is our home."

    She sighed, wishing she could reassure him in some way.

    "It does not seem that Ischia will be safe for some time, though. And until then, I am here to help you, Tiphon. After your disappearance, we lead Ischia for a time. I would help you however I might. But I do not take well to strangers stomping on in and claiming what is not theirs as we've had before, nor requesting alliances without first offering a visit to whatever hell of a kingdom they've come from. Why in hell would we ever contract to ally with complete strangers without knowing anything about them?"

    And so if he bothered to, she would not support it. She was too vigilant to accept such empty promises from strangers and blindly trust them. She had been through too much. People could not be trusted, no matter how kind they seemed. She only trusted Tiphon because she had known him before so long ago.

    Wallace
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