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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]  i feel the voice of rage and ruin
    #1
    now and then, i think of when we were together
    that was love, and it’s an ache i still remember


    There is barely a slip of grey above the western horizon when I cross the border. The snow beneath my hooves is shallow, but a sunny afternoon the day before and a bitterly cold night has left a crust of ice, and every step comes with a loud crunch. I move by moon and starlight, picking my way toward the heart of Loess, the rocky scrubland where few horses venture even in the warmth of summer.

    I nearly pass the three-armed saguaro without a second glance, but something about it catches my eye and I pause. There, about halfway up the trunk, it has sprouted a fourth arm. There is at least a year of growth on it, and the realization that it has been so long since I last passed this way is sobering. My blue-grey eyes seek out the crooked pine to the south, the one that marks the spot in the boulders where I can scramble up and squeeze myself between two rocks. Empty space surrounds me, a shock after the tightness of the crevice, but my flared wings soften the jolt of the hundred meter drop. My hooves splash in the shallow water of the pool, shattering the perfect reflection of the moon it had held. That seems somehow fitting, and when it starts to take shape again I slam my hoof down once more and turn away.

    I had often come to this place during my marriage to Arthas. At first, it had been a place where my nightmares would not wake him, or where I might mourn the loss of my firstborn away from pitying eyes. Over the years it became more than that – a place to keep my treasures, a place to lay my head on the nights my husband brought one of his mistresses home, a place where I felt safe. The Winter we moved to Sylva, I began to come here even more frequently. My collection of geodes grew larger, and my marriage grew weaker. Arthas' mistresses bore him many strong children, colts and fillies that I could smile at without a twinge of jealously. I had always flinched at his touch – at any touch – but the disgust was new, and by summer it was easier to spend each cold desert night alone in a cave than in a bed I could not stand.

    Fort Hideaway.
    That was what Bane had named it on the autumn morning he’d followed me here, the morning I finally spilled my heart to him.

    As I stare up at the slowly rising sun, I am faced with the foolishness of my decision. Coming here changes nothing. What had I been thinking? There is no magic in this place, no way to rewind time, to relive the happiness I had once felt.

    The sun catches on the first geode, sending thousands of fractured lights around the cave walls. It is a glorious sight, and I cannot stand it. Before I really think, I’m kicking it down, and then the next and the next. They roll from the mouth of the cave, and the distant splash of water tells me most of them land in the reflecting pool.

    Good, I think, they’ll sink and I’ll never have to look at them again. Next to go are any rocks small enough to kick, and all the ivy in which we’d nested, pulled from it’s rocky bed and pummeled beneath my angry hooves. It is difficult to destroy a cave, but I do my best.

    Perhaps I can convince a cousin to come and burn the rest of it this afternoon, I think, stepping back to take in my handiwork.

    That satisfaction that I had been hoping to find is absent, so I create it myself.

    Good.
    If he is foolish enough to look for me here, perhaps the sight of it ruined will make him think better of continuing his search. It is enough for one morning, and I spare it not another glance before taking wing and departing for Taiga. 



    lepis, comtesse of taiga
    queen of loess
    | queen of sylva | queen of the south
    lover of wolfbane | mother of six



    this isn't really a thread it's just lepis destroying things and then leaving




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