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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

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    [open]  I have never been nothing; jesper, any


    I have never been nothing. I am the blood of a dragon.

    Leaving behind the rocky hills, she looks out to the northern horizon and meets the afternoon day head on. Dracarys only knows to go north. Just go north and you will find it, she remembers her father one day telling her all about the lands of Beqanna. It would not be hard to find an island covered completely in ice.
    Dracarys keeps her gaze focused on the horizon ahead. She feels the wind beneath her blue draconic wings, gently gliding and pushing her further north. Determination fueled her, and she gives her wings a couple of strokes, increasing her speed.
    She could not imagine making the journey all the way from Loess to Icicle Isle by land. When she could fly there was no other way. The land limited her, but up here in the endless blue sky there was no limit for her.
    Time passes quickly or slowly. Dracarys does not keep track of it. She only notices she is nearby when she passes over the last bit of the mainland and the ocean spreads out below her. Within the horizon, she spots the ice-covered island.
    A grin spreads across her blue soft lips. She leans forward, beating her wings twice, and she accelerates. Moving at a faster momentum, Dracarys can feel the spring warmth fade away from the mainland. An icy chill gently touches the tips of her, giving her a warm welcome to the winter wonderland that comes closer into view.
    With one glance of the island, Dracarys decides the best place she will find anyone—mostly Jesper, she hopes—will be the southern part of the island. The terrain was rocky and covered in a permafrost, but it reminded her a lot of the rocky hills of Loess. Although the wind was harsher and colder here, Dracarys simply ignores it, finding a landing spot, she quickly then descends towards the open meadow in the southernmost tip.
    Flapping her wings to decrease her speed, Dracarys gracefully lands onto the permafrost terrain with ease. Neatly folding her wings at her side, the blue dragon mare glances around from where she landed. Her blue ears flick forward, listening carefully to the new sounds and for anyone nearby. Dracarys then takes a couple steps forward but decides to go no further.
    Seeing no one in sight, Dracarys lets out a soft, welcoming call.
    Certainly, someone would be here.

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    We got older and I should have known
    that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
    Jesper - the only one besides perhaps Brennen, that he knew he could safely ask about shifting. At least, maybe he could ask Ruinam, he might not hold it against him, but their relationship just wasn’t as old and strong as Leilan was with his brother-in-name or his adopted-great-uncle-grandfather-like-what’sitcalled-family.

    The choice is as easy as it is simple and limited, and so, the scaled roan swims north. He notices the changes immediately; his icy scales no longer seem to protect him against any ice that is colder; but as soon as he thinks about needing his old scales back, they’re there, underneath the ice. Happy with this solution, he loses concentration and therefore the scales mid-swim; and so, if one looked really closely, he supposes he looks quite ridiculous.

    At the very least no-one greets him from above or behind, and as he shakes most of the icy water from his body, the frosted hybrid concludes that at least the water still has little effect on him.

    Planting his hooves in the snow and ice of the likewise-named Isle with years of expertise, he makes a short, but quick round, hoping to catch the fox-shifter halfway through his own Isle-guarding service. He doesn’t; another figure shows up before him - she has something about her - ah, dragon wings. Lovely.

    His shifting needs improvement and it doesn’t; he knows the eyes by now. He’s used to them seeing more, used to the color changes - and with a blink they’re different; a greyish blue where his normal brown competes with the icy blue he had not long ago, although he cannot see that for himself.

    Now, when he approaches the girl, he is intrigued by the blues. She reminds him of the daughter he so thoughtlessly created with the blue mare; Friesian from his side, but slimmer through the anglo-arabian hybrid mother. But the visitor is older, and he doesn’t remember doing it twice.

    ”You’re not mine.” he says by ways of greeting her, coming to a standstill only after making a full circle, inspecting her. But she could have been. What else than Castile’s lineage though, could create more dragonlings? He settles with a knowing grin before the mare; his icy scales and lighter, but changing eye color the only thing currently marking his own draconic lineage, he wonders what she makes of him.

    She probably didn’t even know he was here first - wasn’t she in for a surprise, then.
    no. 7 | ice forged in fire

    Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
    Jesla couldn't attribute experience to explain her new comfort level with greeting visitors. Let's face it: Icicle Isle is not high on a horse's list of destinations. Hardly anyone came knocking on their doorstep so, when someone did, you can bet that she took notice. Her mother prefers to mingle among the other residents. She stays behind the scenes though, things ran smoothly. Her father never stopped to rest. He is always on patrol, always on guard. Jesla rather liked that no one else had tasked themself with being the official greeter. She felt purposeful and, rose to the occasion.

    The almost-mature mostly-black mare steps into a light canter. Her feathered ebony limbs churn beneath her barrel as she follows the new fragrance, that reached her nose, to the southern corner. Ink-dyed tresses of her tail ripple above her hocks, trailing behind her. Her poll holds her chiseled head above her withers with a curious and interested expression upon her features. A few strides closer, Jesla picks up another scent though this one is familiar. Leilan. In true juvenile fashion, a wave of jealousy strikes the blanket appaloosa. She charges forth with more fervor as she fumes over the fact that the scaly bronc beat her to the punch.

    She would have to chide him about that. Maybe later. Her mint green gaze falls upon the newcomer. The bearer of the unfamiliar scent resembles a dragon. Why would a dragon-type be here, in the cold? Didn't they prefer lush tropical lairs and fire? Jesla continues her charge - though her ears are neither pinned nor is her head low - until the last minute. Leilan has finished circling the she-dragon and, makes a brief quip as the spotted mare's hooves slide across the melted top soil. Summer just barely reached the Isle but, the squishy layer is a welcome relief to constantly stepping on ice. Once Jesla has stopped sliding, she adjusts her stance so that her limbs are aligned more comfortably. After all, this is her home. Why wouldn't she be comfortable?

    Mint gaze studies the she-dragon carefully. Of course, her eyes are drawn first to the set of pointed wings which drape down her well-fed sides (everyone seems well fed when compared to the Isle residents). Jesla notes that this mare is a blanket appaloosa too, though, white hairs intersperse with the navy ones to form patches of lighter and darker blue. Her legs possess white stockings that reach the same height on all four. Her mane and tail are snow white with strands of silver. Lastly, Jesla's mint gaze levels with the silvery blue eyes of the stranger. She offers a welcoming smile before she acknowledges Leilan with a dip of her poll. She watches the pair for a moment more before offering her introduction. "Welcome, traveller. I am Jesla. What brings you this far north?"



    I have never been nothing. I am the blood of a dragon.

    From the first moment she lays her silver eyes on Leilan, her finely chiseled features turn to something of a warm and welcoming expression. Although underneath her appearance is a different story. Dracarys finds her thoughts adjusting, turning towards studying and understanding the new stranger in front of her all the while keeping her own thoughts tightly concealed.

    The baroque stallion, a silver bay roan, was heavily built. She was quickly reminded of her own grandfather and several other supposed dragon family members within Loess. Only a fool would have assumed that this stranger in front of her was a very distant relative of her dragon family, but she is not quick to jump to conclusions. Lepis would have told her otherwise.

    When he comes closer, he does not say anything. There is no formal greeting like she would have expected. However, Dracarys simply smiles with a charming and welcoming smile, holding his gaze sturdily as he moves around her. Leilan studies her, circling her like he is the predator and she is the prey. Dracarys was no prey. All the while he is contemplating his own pro-creation, the dragon mare does her own further studying. She catches the light flicker of his icy scales and the greyish blue color of his eyes. Dragon eyes, she thinks with an invisible smirk. Dracarys had seen eyes like those before—Cyprin had similar ones.

    Her gaze flickers away though. In the distance, the black blanket mare catches her attention. A pity, she thinks with annoyance at a flick of her white and silver highlighted tail. Dracarys was rather intrigued by whatever this new dragon was up to. Clearly, he thought of her as something or someone by the words that fall from his lips now.

    Turning her argent gaze back to Leilan, her smile instantly curls into a smirk. A hint of mischief gleams in her eyes softly. “I’m not sure if that is a good or bad thing.” The dragon mare replies with a whimsical tone. Dracarys, without a thought, knew it was better she was not. Her blood was the strongest among all—she was both dragon and hellhound, fire and ice.

    Within seconds, the black blanket mare joins them. Dracarys leaves the gaze of the stallion and turns to study the other mare more thoroughly. Jesla was rather young, but perhaps only by a few years than her, and mint green spots covered the snowy white blanket across the dark color of her body. She was simple, but eye-catching Dracarys would say the least.

    Jesla offers her a welcoming smile. Something more proper, she thinks thinking back to Leilan’s approaching of greeting her earlier. It wasn’t exactly the most welcoming method to visitors, at least not one she would use herself. Dracarys returns the same gesture of warmth to the mare, a smile spreading further across her blue stained lips.

    “Thank you, Jesla.” She says warmly back after Jesla speaks. “I wasn’t sure if I came to the right place.” Dracarys speaks again with the same whimsical tone and glances to Leilan before turning back to the appaloosa mare. “My name is Dracarys. I came from Loess for a friendly visit.” She pauses for a moment, ear flickering forward to catch any reactions there might be. “I’ve never been up this far north myself, but I have always wanted to see it since I can remember.” Dracarys glances across the permafrost terrain then. Lepis had been right—she didn’t mind the cold one bit. “And what is your name?” She asks glancing back to Leilan with a wide grin before falling silent.

    Leilan Jesla
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