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    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


    [private]  What the water gave me [Brennen]
    #1
    Below the waves a soft tune echoes, down in the deep where the murky green water blends into the gray northern sea. Haunting and soft, the melody pitches high and then hovers down low again, the voice that sings it a sweet mixture of sadness. It is unmistakably feminine. Fish swimming nearby pause to listen; even the soft patter of rain on the ocean’s choppy surface seems to soften as the tune passes underneath. Cutting through glassy water like a bright flash of color, Adria numbs herself with the song as she swims close to the knife’s point of Nerine’s great horn, where the cold bites deep into her skin and the cry of traveling whales gives her comfort.

    She must rest and eat, but the stormy seas here are too frigid for her to stop. The Nereid mare is forced closer to the shoreline and, eventually, finds herself on a pebbled beach. Underhoof the land is rocky and not so easy to traverse on her fine, dainty hooves yet the sharp face of a rising cliff nearby gives the seahorse reason to push on through the steady downpour of gray rain. There may be scarce trimming near the foot of Nerine’s telltale border for her to eat while she stretches her unused legs, and perhaps if she finds herself lucky a barren cave will reveal itself.

    Picking her way through the rubble of multihued rocks, Adria still hums the soft song taught to her by her mother and father. Even though Autumn has only just arrived, the cold winds and freezing rain cling to her overgrown mane and tail like fine crystals; she shifts her skin from scales to fur in hopes of generating some small ounce of warmth, but her teeth clench and her ears go numb all the same. Ivè Papa yo se bon.” She pleads with the weather, using a small amount of her own magic to create a hardened half-dome of rainwater that will keep the falling precipitation at bay.

    She curses herself for leaving so late in the season.

    Her legs stumble painfully and she goes down, dashing her knee against the stones with a sharp cry of pain just as she reaches the foot of the dark cliff. Bad luck is on her side today, it seems. She knows the feeling of pain and the small trickle of blood down her white-webbed leg will be all the more sore tomorrow, and as she scuffles close to the wall of sediment and clinging lichen she can see (much to her disappointment) that nothing edible remains. Exhausted, the lovely little mare resigns herself to the fate of a cold, hungry night and presses herself to the crag as the ebbing energy of her power flickers. The water-umbrella she’d created falls apart and drenches her to the bone, leaving the lonely female much worse off than she was before.

    @[Brennen]
    #2
    SO GIVE ME HOPE IN THE DARKNESS THAT I WILL SEE THE LIGHT
    'CAUSE OH THAT GAVE ME SUCH A FRIGHT
    It seems like ages ago that he had given up his comfortable, pleasant life in Ischia with Galilee. He still loves the little appaloosa mare he has raised quite a few children with, his long-time Queen, and they had parted as friends. But a friend he loved and co-parented with was not the same as the furious passion he has for Scorch; he’d given up Ischia, given up Galilee, and moved the Brotherhood to Nerine. He should have known it was too good to last, but they’d raised Blue together and been well on their way to creating something deeper, and then her longtime husband had returned, and chaos had ensued.


    But he’s still here.


    Where else would he go now?


    Rain lashes furiously at their shores, autumn angrily heralding the oncoming winter, and he’s standing on the top of a cliff, soaked to the skin and motionless as the rocky outcrop he’s standing on. Darkness is closing in but his eyes are on the gray, turbulent seas, his attention on the vague awareness of his close and extended family spread across Nerine. Scorch is still there, and Blue; his twin sons from his last tryst with Galilee; Breckin; other daughters and sons and grandchildren who had followed him from Ischia. The bay stallion is rarely alone, the little green parrot that followed him from Ischia usually perched on his shoulder, but this weather will drive even the most loyal of companions to be elsewhere. But there’s something else – something in the water.


    Curiosity piqued, Brennen leans out over the edge of the cliff and watches her emerge, watches the water she manipulates, and only really stirs when the water shield dissipates and the mare collapses against the cliff. He snaps his wings open and drops from the cliff, using them to guide his descent, landing far enough from her as to avoid being some sort of looming monster. She’s exhausted and at the end of her abilities , sick with the plague, but he’s fresh and as chivalrous as always. Listening to the undertone of the waves he creates his own rain-free zone around them, and with a critical eye towards her clearly less than ideal state, pulls some of the water away from her too, creating a pocket of dry between himself and the cliff, in which he eyes her uneasily.


    “Are you alright?”

    BUT I WILL HOLD AS LONG AS YOU LIKE
    JUST PROMISE ME WE'LL BE ALRIGHT
    Brennen


    @[Adria]
    #3

    -Adria-

    Water drips into her eyes when Adria turns to glance at the black form. A pegasus has come, probably from above, and she makes no indication that she will move away from the winged horse as he approaches. She’s tired, not trespassing… just tired from travel. If he were from Nerine she could explain herself and her current nomadic status. But what if he isn’t? she wonders to herself, blinking the icy rain free from her eyes. What if… ?

    She stops those wayward thoughts; Adria pants softly and keeps calm even as the water ceases to fall from the sky, even as he comes to loom above her and she feels her fur pulled gently into a state of dryness. Peering up at him with a gaze that’s both wide and grateful, her lips tilt into a delicate smile and her head, covered by the long curtain of her forelock, nods like the gentle tilt of a wildflower in a soft breeze. Every motion is careful and elegant.

    “I am now senyè mwen, thank you.” She speaks, flicking her battered forelegs out from underneath the warmth of her belly so that she could rise. This way, they might speak as equals and she wouldn’t feel like a child due for a scolding. “The way to Ischia is long.” Her soft sigh tells him, “The south would have been a better way to go, I know. I hail from Hyaline you see… and the southern lands they are -” The Nereid pauses, unwilling to admit that she was traveling distantly with a younger seafilly. “- unsteady, you would say.”

    It’s true that she comes from the great crystal lake, but her words are heavy with the island accent. Her trip to Ischia is more or less a return to her home, but this stranger didn’t need the entire story. She could see the concern etched into the ruggedly handsome lines of his face and she credited that to his chivalric nature, nothing more. The bay drake would most likely send her on her way. She was prepared for it.

    Oh my love, don't forsake me; Take what the water gave me



    @[Brennen]




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