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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


    [private]  have to give some away; Aislyn
    #1

    Spring is rapidly tumbling into summer, the third summer of his life, with his second birthday having come and gone at the start of spring. The days grow long and hot again and he recalls being a yearling strutting in the meadow, playing at Kings and Generals under an oak tree with Sabbath. Last summer spent harassing his younger siblings, thinking of when he would get free of his mother’s nest and throw himself into being a bachelor who trampled the world beneath his feet.

    How strange what a year could change, his mother’s love of Hyaline must be written into his genes.

    Still, he is young, even if he doesn’t look so much like a child anymore. Tall, rippling with muscle but not yet filled out fully. Though he is meant to be going to the field for the first time, in the hopes of beating his mother to her recruiting, he is instead back in the meadow, back under the tree. Its shadow is long in the morning and strains toward the river but it is being dragged back by the slow climb of sun into sky. The grass is taller this year even with his greater height and he wades through it toward the trunk of the oak but stops midway there, his way blocked by a wall of purple asters that extends in a crooked half moon shape in either direction. Valek does not remember these and turns to walk along the edge of them slowly, until, at their center he wades in amongst them and drops to roll in them sending petals everywhere.

    A bit of destruction, just like his dam, he can't resist it. 



    Valek
    if you want love



    [Aislyn] Here is some weird pointless trash  Heart
    Reply
    #2

    chaos is only understood when
    it is loved by the wild,
    not the weak.

    It has been months since she last went home to Tephra, or even returned to the familiar forests of Taiga, but that wanderlust in her veins was something she couldn’t seem to shake. She wanted to see what laid beyond every mountain peak, she wanted to see if the edges of every beach were different or if the spray of the sea smelled the same no matter where she went. She spent her mornings in fog-laced forests and her evenings in dew-kissed meadows, and everything in between, and still, it wasn’t enough.

    The further she traveled, the tighter her chest felt. The smaller Beqanna seemed to become, even though she has not possibly seen it all. But what would she do, once she has? She was afraid of being bored. She was afraid of living here forever, and never accomplishing anything. She was afraid of being nothing.

    Such heavy thoughts, for a girl that just turned a year old.

    The lush grasses of the meadow were tall, and she slips through it like water, parting the sea of emerald green with her svelte body. For the most part, she is ignoring the sounds around her; their voices, their movements, even the melody of songbirds were lost to the persistent thoughts that refused to grow quiet.

    It is only the sudden rustling of the brush off to the side that draws her from her disheartened train of thought, and she stops.

    Her head tilts to the side, as though that might better allow her to pinpoint the exact location of the sound. With her eyes narrowing in concentration, she follows the sound, until she finds a boy laced in gold rolling in a bed of purple flowers. The sight makes her giggle, and she can’t help it. The sound spills from her lips like water over rocks, and her bright pink eyes glitter with her amusement when she finally asks him, “Why are you ruining the flowers? Did they personally offend you in some way?”
    Aislyn


    @[Valek]
    Reply
    #3

    Valek is rolled onto his back and letting his golden limbs kick into the air when a girl’s laughter makes him freeze. Turning his bright face toward the sound he looks for the source before dropping his legs in the same direction and standing up in the bed of broken flowers. “They aren’t all ruined.” He says upon standing, golden sides stained in smears of green and black mane and tail full of petals, leaves, and pollen. At his feet the bruised and broken flowers lie in lovely misery, exploded and smashed in equal measure.

    In looking upon the destruction he has wrought Valek feels an amused pride undercut by a pang of regret that ebbs away as the moment wears on. It is strange to enjoy something and therefore want to destroy it. Is he the only one that feels like this? Not for the first time he feels something just a little out of place about his own behavior. His mother has told him he is a sea monster’s son, but little else… sometimes, these times, he wonders.

    “They were beautiful and I just couldn’t help myself.” A perplexed wrinkle dips briefly into the young stallion’s brow and when he speaks again his voice is curiously confused. “Doesn’t that ever happen to you?” Valek looks away from the piebald filly and back at the remainder of the asters, their purple starbursts weaving in the sparse breeze, watching the destructive youth warily with their golden centers.  Heartening, Valek turns to face the amused girl, the asters a periwinkle sea of temptation beside him. The bay is conspiratorial when he meets her lovely eyes and asks, “Do you want to try it?”



    Valek
    if you want love


    @[Aislyn]
    Reply
    #4

    chaos is only understood when
    it is loved by the wild,
    not the weak.

    She was young, and so there was much of this world that she still didn’t understand, and even more that her mother has shielded her from.

    Destruction and chaos were just a few of them.

    To say that she had grown up coddled and sheltered would not be entirely accurate. Aislyn had been too brash and bold to fully succumb to her mother’s overprotective ways, and luckily enough, it was never long before her mother was distracted by something – or someone – else anyway. But maybe if she had stayed, maybe if she had asked questions, and maybe if she had paid attention – really paid attention – to what her mother was like, she would have had a better understanding of the world. The world that she was likely destined for, the world that her mother had weaved her into.

    As it is, Aislyn only knew the wildness of it.

    She knew the ruggedness of the mountains and the sharp winds of the coastline, she knew the scorching sun and the biting cold of winter. She has learned to dodge the places predators hunted and how to be leery of dark magic, but she never has learned, or even thought about, all the ways in which she was not prepared to protect herself. She doesn’t see the way her mother breaks herself against hearts too jagged and unforgiving, she doesn’t see what can happen if you become addicted to suffering.

    Her lack of understanding is what makes her ask in confusion, “You saw something beautiful and you wanted to destroy it?” It could have almost sounded scolding, but the way her brightly colored eyes glitter when the sun catches them betrays that. She laughs then as she steps forward, reaching to pull a few stray petals that clung to his mane. It did not occur to her that the maneuver was perhaps a little bold, since she didn’t know him, but his skin felt smooth where her lips accidentally brush, and she does not mind the risk. “No thank you, I’ll stick to admiring them and letting them live.” She pulls back, regarding him almost shyly with the heat of his skin still on her lips. “I’m Aislyn, by the way.”
    Aislyn

    @[Valek]
    Reply




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