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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


    [Dovev] Lanterns burning in the night.
    #1
    Briella
    your eyes are lined in pain, black tears don't hide in rain

    This is a me and you thing.

    Mine.

    Words, phrases- things that her small mind has long thought on: the picture and image of a dark colored man rising from the water with reddened droplets and bones jutting from the skin. A carcass, graceful and strong- speaking with a voice that provoked both intrigue and fear. She remembers the dark eyes and the smell of iron and earth, of blood and ash- she recalls the feels of the air around the man and how all of sudden her world had become much wider.

    This is a me and you thing.

    She mulls on it like she did then, thinks about how had dropped her off with the blue roan woman… Heartfire, Dagger- names for a single face. Swollen and sickly she’d hugged her tight and even in the face of danger she’d been there: crying out as hell itself tore asunder the very earth beneath her feet and all the sickness of the world made her lung heave. She recalls the brief sight of him: the smoke and ash making him little more than a shadow as she ran- as she fled the chaos.

    Mine.

    His- she is his, and has been for more of her shortening life than anyone before. Briella is kin only to void: to the afterlife, to death and hunger. She recalls the taste of flesh, and of plant, and she wrinkles her small nose as she walks away from Ether and Cimmerian… as she trails off around the island and avoids the Kelpie prowling the shore: the clattering hooves on sand that are unfamiliar. The whale, does interest her, but its fading and when she discovers it is not edible- she ultimately decides to abandon the thing in pursuit of something else: something more primal- and someone she has long wished to see again.

    Baby.

    He hadn’t wanted to name her, to even know her name- he had enemies… and she knew in her own way; but little did she care. Still she continues walking the shore, drifting and peaceful in the rising sun, as if if she were little more than a mariner’s ghost in the very fog and wake of crash and tragedy; but her wounds are healed and while still skinny: still sick, she seems different.

    Thicker and taller she has grown a small amount, enough to make it more evident that smutty dark patches on her body would stay and grow: that her blonde mane and tail would become something of an impossible mixture of gold and silver alike… and most of all: the light hits her eyes and the color has changed.

    They are blue: cold and silvery, almost white.

    Frost grows on her fur, slowly melting as she takes a breath in the Spring morning.

    His image is easy to see, to peer at from the distance, and she closes it without hesitation: walking and springing forward to the bone and shadow: to someone who had not abandoned her, and she stands before Dovev- sauntering forward from sea mist and morning sun with a radiant chill penetrating the air around her as those eyes brighten and magic flows wildly. She stares, and the ice and frost on the plants around her crackles and rattles.

    “I’m going to help.” she states it, poignant and sure of herself- the cold air washing over him and her energy near exhausted as she feels the push back from the pestilent magic of the plague. “Sorry I ran.” the latter is a tender plea, and she wobbles.

    It fades, the chill and ice- the remnants of winter gone and her abilities seemingly faded or lesser in potency. Yet? She waits- watches and lingers: watches Dovev with a smile. Expelliarmus is dead, the Valley is gone- even the Chamber fell long ago. I wasn’t there to see it, but… I know I stayed in Pangea once before and nothing terrifies me like the God-Mage and his hatred and contempt for this world. I’m sorry I left, I had to help- I can’t lose anyone else.”

    She blinks, her voice the same but this time there is an accent, ancient and older: the lilting and slurring sound of someone born in the Valley.



    @[Dovev]
    Reply
    #2
    dovev

    She appeared before him, walking with a liquid grace he'd expect in someone older. His eyes sharpened with confusion, studying her closely. Her eyes had changed too, not just the color but they seemed somehow older as well. She was a little taller, and he hated that he'd missed that much of her life already. Goddamn this fucking plague. He never should have left her.

    Her coat too. So beautiful. Her hair.
    He picked a damn good baby.

    He was still examining her in silence as she began talking, even sounding older too in the lilt of her young voice. He listened closely despite his black eyes still wandering over her, making sure she was all in one piece after he'd failed her so badly and left her to fend for herself. He was so terrible a father, as his first had made certain he knew.

    "Sorry I ran," she apologized, stumbling a little. His heart clenched and he reached out to steady her, sliding in at her side to help support her. He hated that she apologized to him when this was all his fault. He never should have left her. His bladed eyes were so soft on her, brushing his nose over her growing hair as she continued speaking. She smelled good. He missed that scent.

    "I'm sorry I left, I had to help- I can't lose anyone else."

    He hadn't understood much, honestly. He was born in the chaos of the Reckoning after The Valley and the other lands were destroyed, so he had no knowledge of them. Nor was he familiar with his sire the God-Mage. He only recognized Pangea obviously from his recent trip there. For the most part he just let it all drift away as unimportant, leaning in to press the top of his nose in the crook of her neck and jaw.

    "It's okay, baby. You won't lose me," he promised in a gentle murmur. Perhaps it would be so strange to an outsider that this man of violence and sharp bone edges could be so tender. "I never should have left you," he admitted, and silently vowed that it wouldn't happen again if he could help it. "You're older now," he adds. Not by much at all, really, but it would do. They'd make it work. "I want you to go with me the next time I need to leave. I want you to stay with me."

    She was his, after all. He would keep her.

    we're slaves to any semblance of touch

    Lord, we should quit but we love it too much


    Reply
    #3
    Briella
    your eyes are lined in pain, black tears don't hide in rain

    He’s standing still when she sees him, when her heart breaks in her chest: and when all the pieces slowly begin to burn. Watching her, looking her over- staring as if unsure and she feels the dizziness of her excitement and all the butterflies that metaphorically swarm in her chest: a knot in her belly weight like iron, and she chokes when he takes his first step to her. With all his weight, he holds her and stops her from crumbling: and she feels the warmth of his skin and smells the dried blood and earth- for a moment she swears he smells like dried brine and dust- like Pangea. Briella remains however, close and steady, pressing against him with her eyes closing and body shuddering and trembling from fever.

    Dovev is familiar in a way that makes her think of summer heat, comfortable and warm- a memory that makes the heart race and her mind scatter as she feels the bits of breath and the soft velveteen of his nose on her neck and head- mussing the wavy silvery-blonde hair. She speaks and he presses against her cheek, her neck- and for a moment there is strange feeling on her skin: the tickling kisses of whiskers. Her own nose is bloodied from the plague, dripping and coated with dried traces- and she manages a weak attempt to suppress the cough.

    Briella is not without a gift, however, or curse: there is ice in her hair and frost on her body: melting and gleaning in the sun but unable to be taken away truly. The crystalline additions glow softly and begin to reverberate as she strains herself: inhales and focuses. “Let me help you,” she whispers into his neck- head small head pressing against his shoulder. “Please.” she whimpers, Briella’s heart is breaking- and she focuses this strange magic… this newfound power.

    It’s cold, endlessly cold- like a wintry breeze that steals away all the heat from both of them. The ice glows, and she draws power from this- surging the energy between them in desperation to get rid of his symptoms: of the plague if possible.

    In the end she’s dizzy, tired and weak- exhausted and slow to move or to even speak. He speaks of tender promises and regrets, of how he wants her to stay and remain close. Parts of her are too tired to fight and yet? She has no will to do so either, instead Briella can only lean against him- nodding and finally finding her voice. “I don’t want to leave you, I don’t want to-” she trails off, wobbling and sighing as she picks herself up and keeps herself strong for the moment. 

    “Nobody told me magic was so hard to do.” blood drips down her nose, and Briella just chuckles: half sobbing as she feels the fever and pain in her body. “There is a lake in the northern part of Isle- it’s shaped like a heart… it was really pretty. If anything happens to me, take me there. Please.”

    Dark, her words are much darker.



    @[Dovev] @[Officials]  She tryna heal the symptoms Dovev has
    Reply
    #4
    @[Briella] @[Dovev] you can heal symptoms without us! we only roll for fully healed. Smile
    Reply
    #5
    dovev

    He frowned.

    Was that snow in her hair? What the hell? She's on a damn beach.

    "Let me help you," she whispered, her breath cold against his neck. There was such a deep ache in her voice when she added please that he had to pull back and study her a little. Did she care this much for him? Of course, he cared about her, she was his. But he hadn't expected for her to give much of a damn about him, especially when it seemed he'd basically abandoned her. He hadn't even left his own daughter for her to decide she didn't want anything to do with him.

    She wanted to help him how, though?

    It was like the heat was sucked out of the air around them, and he pressed in closer to her, wary of a threat. His eyes scanned their surroundings until he saw a glow and turned his attention to it. The ice in her hair was magic?

    "Briella?"

    His breath lodged in his throat, a violent chill flowing through his body. He tensed, grunting against it. Goddamn, was he about to have a literally frozen heart? Beneath his face mask, his expression was pinched and tight, steeling himself for all the cold pouring through his limbs, freezing up his chest so he couldn't breathe. He couldn't even push his baby away to get her to safety. He was helpless.

    A soft gasp passed his lips in a foggy breath as the chill stopped pushing and only settled deep inside him, his body shivering. Beneath the numb, he was healed. Or as healed as he would ever be. His skin had pulled closer to the bones thrusting out of him, much as they did when Leliana was near. His nose had stopped bleeding, and he couldn't feel the coughs hanging in his throat ready to force their way out.

    "I don't want to leave you, I don't want to-"

    She went a little limp, leaning against him, and he forgot all about the cold. He held her, checking her over quickly and putting together that this was her doing. She was a healer. A damn cold one, but a healer.

    "Nobody told me magic was so hard to do."

    He nuzzled her, humming softly in comfort and firmly ignoring her wish to return to that frozen hell if anything happened to her. His eyes hardened, his muscles tense. "Nothing will happen to you. You're mine," he swore roughly, quiet as he tugged her in close and pressed her small body against him heedless of his unforgiving armor.

    With his legs folding, he coaxed her down to the ground with him, curling around her and brushing a warm breath over her jaw. "Stay with me," he whispered, kissing a light trail beside her throat and down her neck before nuzzling into her silvery winter hair. "Rest now, baby. I'll keep you warm." And safe.

    we're slaves to any semblance of touch

    Lord, we should quit but we love it too much


    Reply
    #6
    Briella
    your eyes are lined in pain, black tears don't hide in rain

    Dovev is warm where she is practically frigid, and shadows her in such a way that when she is pressed against him the very bones dig into her loose and ill-conditioned skin. She is rampant with fever, however, and practically burning in her own way: blood trickling down her nose and coughing wracking the heavy lungs. She feels weaker, drained and tired: a lethargy that makes her wobbles and slide, and she is easily pushed even by the most gentle of his touches. Rather than sink to her feet however, she remains tall and close- clinging to him with desperation, as if closing her eyes or giving in to exhaustion would tear her away.

    She shivers, sighing and burning, her ice shimmering and the frost becoming somewhat of a casing as she feels the heat draining from the air: from herself.

    “No.” she murmurs, pleading and whimpering.

    Ice grows on her, the cold and chill so harsh that the wind passing by is hardly enough to stop her; but the rampant magics are wild and she huffs, breathes heavily and writhes where she stands. Twisting and wild, unadulterated or controlled: the ice suddenly cracks and Briella exhales: her voice escalating into a near scream.

    Raspy, she falls silent and where there was weakness: her own symptoms were suddenly no more. Gone was the fever, the shivering, the blood: the raucous coughing and heaviness of her lungs. The air grew warmer, and yet she remained with glimmering ice in her hair; but she was standing strong- taller and blinking: her mouth open and around her the snow and ice became little more than water.

    “I can’t go away, I have to keep helping- I can’t let things happen again.” her pale eyes lock onto Dovev, head tilting as she reaches her velveteen nose up and brushes the curve of his shoulder- gentle and without malice. “I asked the Fairies for a way to help, I remember when they watched us in theden- so I thought they would help. One of them sent me to the Isle again, she told me go north and find the pond so I did. When I came back- there was more to do; but they gave me something.”

    She cannot gesture to the healing, but she moves easier: less pained or crazed, strengthened in a way. “The second time I went, I failed- I couldn’t make it. The blizzard was too much, but this ice: I can help others with it. I don’t have to lose people, I can help.” she’s trembling, scared- and in her mind she recalls losing the Valley and the Chamber, the faces that faded into darkness. She doesn’t want to say it, but her mind is a thousand miles behind her mouth.

    “I saw all of you dying, Bruise-” she chokes. “I saw everyone in pieces and rotting: sick, and Carnage standing above it all. It felt so real, and I know it sounds impossible; but it felt like I’d experienced it before. I’m not mad at you for leaving, not upset in the slightest.” assurance or something more, she walks closer and continues staying near him.

    It’s tender in all the ways she is. “Just tell me where to go, and I’m with you.” calm, and sundered all the same: she feels herself waiting- watching, thinking.



    @[Dovev]
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