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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening


    LILLIANA -- Year 206


    "There is still something of himself - something of the Wolfbane who would always love her - that rallies against the slime. It says, 'lie in the bed you’ve made'. So he gathers the covers and tucks himself in." -- Wolfbane, written by Calcifer

    [open]  snow tiger; any
    Helsinki's indigo coat is a stark contrast as the glow of a summer sun melts into the horizon. She walks with a high head, black eyes unwavering, as faces of giggling mares are nipped along by bulky men. Summer brought heat and lust. It introduced luxurious ideas of sweating bodies and harshly whispered words. Helsinki swats it all away with the crack of her black tail against her haunches.

    She walks with the weight of her Friesian form, the light feathering of her feet caked in a drying mud, barbs of sharp burrs tangle in the length of her mane. She is aware of the snarls in her hair but there was nearly no time to dig through the length just to prick her lips on their sharp edges.

    With the fall of the sun, cricket song is heard in the distance despite the humidity that lingered heavily on the air. The smaller bits of her mane stick against the blue neck as she grows further annoyed. Insects buzz near her head and her tender parts despite how many times she slams her legs into the earth to stir them from vicious little bites. Hels can only pray to find some kind of water to drive herself into so she may relieve herself of the damned bugs and their hunger.

    The blue mare slips into the growing shadows, a breath of cool breeze finding it's way along the length of her back, and she sighs deeply with a little relief. By now her mane is glued to the shape of her arched neck but there is no mind to be paid as darkness falls for the wolf wakes with a lagging tongue and empty belly.

    Creeping around the morphing shadows of the field’s outskirts was a fun pastime of Chem’s, especially lately. Although he’s found nothing delicious or prize worthy as of late, still, it is mildly entertaining to explore the place. This place is one of the only untouched places among Beqanna, remaining its archaic self throughout all of the disruptions, destruction and reforming of Beqanna’s skeleton. It isn’t the Mountain that is the meaty heart of Beqanna, but the Field, eh? He always loves to muse little nothings as he wanders around with keen eyes taking in the details of his surroundings.

    A flash of midnight blue swiftly moving in the distance brings his attention to it and he stops to observe for a minute. The breeze brings her smell right to him and he takes in a greedy inhale. “Oh, yes yes.” he purr-growls beneath his slow breath and a grin spreads to the corners of his muzzle.

    If she wasn’t aware of him he snorted to make sure she did, to announce his approach, per say. He says nothing, his wide feet breaking twigs and crunching leaves loud enough for her to tell he was coming forward to close the gap between them. When he draws close  and if she hasn’t started to flee (and he would give chase) then he gives her a cordial “Hello there miss.” He steps at a semi-respectable distance. “Beautiful night to wander, isn’t it?

    to the window, to the wall

    She knows it would not take long for her to catch a wandering eye. There is an air about dangerous women that is undeniable.

    The night is dark but the moon illuminates enough so that his shadow steps a few feet in front of him. Unbothered hoof steps crush and crumble the decaying foliage of early summer molting. One black eye slides from the corner so she looks over her shoulder at the approach of the white spattered dark stallion. Her body is tense, bristled, prepared for the feel of his teeth at her hip but when it doesn't come and is instead replaced with a kind greeting, Helsinki relaxes slightly.

    Helsinki tugs the edge of her lips up slightly as she turns so she may give proper face to the larger male. Black eyes glitter and watch him, studying him. "It is a rather pretty night." Her voice is low, velvet smooth. "Fancy yourself an evening stroll as well?" She remarks with the smirk on her lips still as she already knows the answer to the question.

    He is a larger, more overpowering creature but he smells like a real stallion and its alluring beneath a full moon. The blue mare shifts her weight from one hip to the other when a humid summer breeze toys with the length of her black mane. His blue eyes seem to pierce her and it makes her shiver slightly, excited, anticipating.


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