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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening

    COTY

    GHAUL -- Year 209

    QOTY

    "(souls are not meant to live more than once — death was not meant to be temporary, and she is so sure that every time her heart starts to beat again that irreversible damage is further inflicted)" -- Anonya, written by Colby


    [private]  to taste your fire
    #1



    The night was still thick, but a glow at the edge of the sandy mare’s vision alerted her that she had not departed from the trio of horses unaccompanied. A small smile tugged at her expression but she doesn’t stop immediately, she’s eager to put distance between herself and where they had stood – where she had gone from burning annoyance to… nothing. The fight had gone out of her so fast as soon as resistance was gone. She had been eager for it, eager to feel the anger fill her up until it choked out everything else. But Brigade had been… less than the opponent she had wanted. He had shifted from fire to ice and the sandy pegasus had escaped the encounter unscathed and unsatisfied.

    She craved the fire housed in the mare that was (she hoped) still following her. But she’s not sure how to poke the embers back to life within her now that they have gone to rest for the night.

    She doesn’t stop until she comes to the edge of the forest and the river, until she’s standing next to the moonlit water.

    Although the walk hadn’t been all that long, she looks at the water instead of looking back to see whether she still had company. She things about the currents instead of thinking about whether or not the wildfire mare had got annoyed and gave up and went to go pick a fight with someone else.

    So she waits to see, hoping both that she'll be left alone and that she will find someone coming to stand beside her in another heartbeat. This conflict of wishes and instincts will drive her mad, she thinks. Maybe it has already started. She doesn't know who she is, where she's from, what she's like, and now - she doesn't know what she wants.

    Still, whether she is alone or not, while rather obviously looking somewhere else, she does whisper into the night air the name she caught as she had been leaving.

    “Brunhilde.”


    v a s t r a

    artwork by space1993


    brunhilde
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    #2

    i'm a geyser, feel it bubbling from below
    hear it call, hear it call, hear it call to me, constantly

    She trails after the smoky shapeshifter as if she is but a predator called to the tantalizing smell of bloody prey. A smile would spread across her face if she knew that her claws are caught tightly in Vastra’s flesh, but she is content to sit in the hope that this pretty woman might wish to consider her for just a little longer.

    Brunhilde follows and only for a second does she think she may be creepy for tailing Vastra all this way. They do not trek for terribly long, but the wildfire does (for just a second) think that she would whip angrily on anyone so close to her this late at night. Hell, she would probably rip them to shreds—she thinks she might even rip Vastra to shreds for not acknowledging she has a stalker.

    The moon glows on the water in such a serene way that for a moment the dainty flame is hypnotized. Her focused gemstone eyes trail from the cream woman’s wings to the reflection of the sky in the dark river. Silver mingles with startling gold of her gaze, and for a moment she looks like an ethereal being, like she may have drifted from heavens just a second before.

    Too bad she is more hellhound than cherub.

    Brunhilde, comes the whisper of the pegasus, and the glowing woman smiles secretly to herself. This is an innocent pleasure in knowing that the shapeshifter may want her here as much as she wants to be here. Brun desires to run her muzzle along the slopes of her companion’s silky sides, but she resists for fear of ruining the odd intimacy of the moment; instead, she steps quietly to the shore with that sweet, simple smile.

    “How’d you know?” She can hardly hide the grin in her voice.

    and hear the harmony only when it's harming me
    it's not real, it's not real, it's not real enough

    Brunhilde


    Vastra do you know i love them with every fiber of my being
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