GHAUL -- Year 209
"(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
wishful thinking | any
Nothing is as it was before.
A shift had happened in the world, the gap between life and death closing. The world had shaken, cracked, moved beneath her; it feels almost cruel the way things had changed. The Beqanna she knew is no longer the Beqanna that once was - decades had passed since the mutiny, the capture, the torture, the death. So she is surprised to hear that whisper, cool and calm like a summer breeze.
She gasps - her lungs are heavy with water and fear. Her eyes open, a blurry and grainy image of Sylva, before they adjust to the blinding white winter. She shivers, blinks; her eyes flicker from side to side. She looks at herself - her body is in tact, save for a few discernable scars marking the delicate edges of her curves.
Sylva - Modicum Mortem, the devil's reject and his band of impossible misfits. They were here...weren't they? Or...was the little bastard dead? She didn't know, and she wasn't going to stay and find out.
Her old bones cracked as she struggled to run, cold wind blew harsh on her face. Ischia - Brennen, the mutiny, Klaudius, Durotan…names and faces fought their way into her mind. Her children, where were her children? Karat, Kromium, Kanamae and...what was the other one's name? She hadn't named him, she'd died before she could. But she had seen him, a beautiful bay with speckles of green, the perfect mix between his parents. Was he alive or had he too suffered her same fate?
She doesn't know where she's going, but her mind tells her west - Run west until you can no longer feel your legs, and when they have given out, fly until you can no longer feel your wings. She doesn't look where she's going, and she doesn't stop - even as she passes the familiar volcanic ashland of Tephra (Warrick, was he still alive?). Even as she crosses the sandbar towards Ischia. She needs to get home, her home.
Salt and sand clings to the once-queen. She breathes quickly through her nose, her lungs quivering with every sharp gasp inward. Krone's body feels numb, and she feels herself collapse into the sand - warm and familiar. Everything is new, but that feeling of warmth clinging to her skin, that sun basking upon her, that is what calms her.
Home. I am home.
ooc: sorry for the lack of html! anyone is welcome to join :3
11-10-2019, 03:48 PM
She was only a little fish in the very big sea. It was a fact that was coming clear to the pale mare who trotted along the shore. It was warm here, always warm, and she exhilarated in that fact after her recent encounter with what winter really meant. There had been compensation, of course, for the cold and discomfort. Wonderful compensation. But she more than somewhat happy to be back on her own familiar shores.
The nereid smiled as she walked along the white sand that edged the island, a delicate lacy border to the vivid green tapestry it contained. There were changes coming to the mainland, good and bad, but she had other things on her mind as well. Better than the darkness that pressed in on every side.
For a long moment, she only stood there, face lifted upward to absorb the sun's heat as completely as she could. The delicate skin that peeked between scales would burn if she stood like this too long, but it was delicious to drink in the rays of light after spending so much time shivering. With a contented sigh, she dropped her head a little, blue-violet eyes blinking the sun away.
A dark mass lay on the beach, brown and green, and that was all she could tell from this distance. Some knotted clump of drifted wood and weeds, perhaps? Something interesting, at the very least. She stepped out again, light as rain on the surf. Then she paused, near enough at last to decipher the form in the sand.
A mare, dark and green, the long tendrils of her mane and tail spread wildly across the sand. Aquaria stepped closer, cautiously, fearing the worst. It would not be impossible she realized, if a horse were to fall (or jump) into the sea from the mainland, for their body to wash up on the barrier island that was Ischia.
This disturbing first thought was quickly dismissed, however. The mare was breathing, for a start, if shallowly. And she was not swollen with salt water, no scent of decay clung to her skin. Aquaria blinked down at her. What should she do? She'd certainly never seen this horse before, and strangers didn't typically take naps on the beach. They could, she supposed, and it wouldn't be a problem if they did. They just... didn't.
"Hey...? Hey, are you okay?" She asked finally, nudging the mare's shoulder lightly. She'd feel awful if this were just a guest trying to relax, but she wanted to make sure whoever this was wasn't hurt or sick.
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