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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


    [open]  new soul in a strange world; any
    #1
    The years are passing almost as fast as they had when she was on her own, but Isilya thinks part of this must be because she is so happy now. She has a home, has friends, and it is not difficult to fill her days and nights with things to do.

    Even if those “things” are just trying to meet someone new! It’s been a while since Isilya has ventured into the common areas of Beqanna and the arrival of summer beckons her to the more temperate regions. It is with no shortage of amusement that she notices how she has adapted to the tropical climate of Tephra. Visiting the rest of the world during winter, as beautiful as it was, had sent a shiver across her gold and porcelain body. So now that the warmer temperatures are here everywhere, she finds it much more comfortable.

    Today she is sporting a pair of dragonfly wings, the framework made of vines that grow from those that always decorate her spine and the membranes of which shine with iridescence.

    It’s early in the morning when she lands in an empty spot in the meadow and there’s sunshine - though some clouds suggest a spring rain may be coming. Not that grey clouds are enough to dampen this shimmering gold girl’s spirits.

    Immediately upon landing, she is surrounded by a small flock of her favourite trick - birds weaved from wildflowers and grasses. The summer flowers provide a rainbow of colours to choose from and she smiles at these little friends as they swoop in the early dawn. She is hoping, of course, to meet some larger friends (whether old or new) but for now the birds keep her company while she walks.

    simple and sweet

    Isilya



    open to any!
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    #2
    She almost doesn't even blink anymore when she sees wings, doesn't flinch and sneer the way she did when she first arrived in Beqanna, so when she notices the pale mare crossing the meadow in her direction, Neverwhere barely concerns herself over the shimmering dragonfly wings. Perhaps just a quick flick of her ears over their not being the usual feathered ones as if stolen from an enormous bird, but wings are wings, and it's all part of the same magic she is slowly coming to be more accustomed to. There are worse things, harder things to understand and come to term with. She doesn't scoff or roll her eyes, and Neverwhere is quietly congratulating herself on this growth when she finally really notices the flowering vines. It wouldn't be correct to say that she didn't see the vines lacing from poll to tail earlier - certainly they couldn't be missed - but they didn't register as anything unusual at first. There are such vines growing wild here and there, though they are typically climbing up trees along the forest edges and rarer in the meadow - and never on horses.

    Her congratulations turn to curses but she doesn't move, only watches the birds fly and swoop as though catching flies, and, at first, this makes it's own sort of sense, because there are many little birds flying around, swallows and flycatchers skimming the tall grass for unfortunate insects. There are hungry, noisy mouths waiting back in nests made of grass and mud, and the birds are frenzied to find enough food for those demanding bellies, but these birds seem to have no purpose beyond circling round and round the beshrubbed mare. Neverwhere's tail flicks, a faint feeling of irritation rippling through her. It's one thing to ignore wings, but this is all getting be be a bit much. Wings and vines and birds. There are limits to what anyone should be expected to accept as appropriate. She snorts.

    "Why are you a bush?" It's barely dawn, and she's already done with today.

    Neverwhere
    ...


    @[Isilya]
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    #3
    Her attention immediately goes to the other mare as soon as they are close, and Isilya pauses in her wandering in the hopes of a conversation. Although she hears the snort, she doesn’t really register it - she’s too busy flying high at the approach of someone else. Emotionally, that is - her wings stay glued to her sides (though they do flutter a bit in her excitement).

    She does giggle at the words though. “I actually lived as a tree for a time! Just to see what it was like. Very relaxing.” Her eyes go a little distant with the fond memories for a moment - recalling how invigorating it had been to be physically connected to a whole forest.

    Isilya’s daydreaming comes to a stop when she finally registers the expression on the mare’s face.

    It has never occurred to her that someone might be unnerved by the rather overt display of her magic, but the idea distresses her. She does not want to cause even a bit of negative feeling in someone else! Her face falls and her voice is quiet when she speaks again. “If it makes you uncomfortable, though, I can stop.” As a test to see if it will make this stranger's mood lighten, the birds start giving the two mares a bit of a wider berth (making them ‘die’ always made the flower-girl cry and she is already currently trying hard not to do so). Then those dragonfly wings disappear, the vines shifting and absorbing back into the ones that decorate Isilya’s spine naturally. She could, of course, use some of her magic to give her an ordinary mane - but she has never done this before. She’s had these vines all her years - since birth.

    She will shed them for a time though, if that means she can make a new friend here this morning.

    simple and sweet

    Isilya



    @[Neverwhere]
    Reply
    #4
    Relax

    She doesn't know whose voice that is, it isn't hers, certainly, when every instinct is telling her to do the opposite, to leave, to run. But as much as she may say that she dislikes the unnatural disorder caused by magic, she is herself an unnatural creature. How many instincts did she ignore in the name of overcoming the blindness that had plagued her before she came here? And, certainly, she has had few troubles accepting the sight that was so graciously returned to her, so she stands before the pale mare frowning quietly through her excited remembrance and offer laced with disappointment. There is something in the little magician's willing nature that breaks past barriers and Neverwhere has been here long enough now to know there are some demands that are, perhaps, a little unfair of her to make. She sighs audibly and shakes her head.

    "That won't be necessary," she says, watching the plaited grass birds flutter away with some relief just the same, "I find it hard to believe being a tree was very relaxing. I think I would feel trapped."

    She already feels trapped and her roots are only figurative.

    It's funny how many of her conversations seem to come back to trees, and the thought makes her turn back to the porcelain mare with something akin to curiosity. It's hard to tell if the scent of plants surrounds her because of where she lives, or because of what - of who - she is. Then, a thought that makes the frown fade.

    "Listen, I know we just met and you don't owe me anything, but could you do me a favor? If you ever run into a daydreaming red mare named Lilliana, would you find a way to tell her that you were miserable as a tree and all you did was scream?" Despite the subtle smile that ghosts across her lips, she manages to look quite serious as she makes the ridiculous request, "Please, it would mean a lot to me if you could."
    Neverwhere
    ...


    @[Isilya]
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    #5
    A dazzling smile lightens up her eyes when her new friend says that it won’t be necessary to completely change. She would have without hesitation, of course, but it still feels wonderful to hear that it is not necessary. A small laugh escapes her when the other says that she does not think being a tree would be relaxing. “It’s not for everyone.” Isilya offers with a smile. She didn’t feel trapped because she could feel everything in the forest - her roots as they stretched deep into the earth and the little critters that made their burrows nearby, the birds that made their nest in her branches and the joy of the small eggs that hatched there every spring.

    But it was still a very stationary life, and now that she knows what it is to be social, to be around her own kind, the flower-strewn mare isn’t sure she would do it again.

    Before she can say anything else, this new friend asks her a surprising question. There’s a brief moment where Isilya waivers on her response, finding the idea of lying to someone extremely daunting even if it is for a joke. But the temptation of being in a joke is too strong for her to resist - she’s never been in on anything before! She twitches her tail like a satisfied dog - and indeed the shining expression on her face is kin to that of a puppy that’s just made a new best friend. “Okay! I can do that!”

    This is a wonderful feeling.

    “I’m Isilya, by the way.” Since they’re in on a joke together it only makes sense that they exchange names too! Further cement what Isilya believes is going to be a wonderful friendship.


    simple and sweet

    Isilya



    @[Neverwhere]
    Reply
    #6

    Hey all you cool cats and kittens

    Her expression is stiff in return when the pale mare offers a conciliatory remark about being a tree. Not for everyone is surely an understatement, while the other thinks of sheltering small animals, Neverwhere thinks of woodpeckers and beetles with the same irritation she might meet horseflies and engorged ticks. She thinks of horses and deer stripping bark and leaves, and the thought of being eaten alive bit by strip makes her shudder. She barely manages to conceal it, some better place in her thinking that perhaps this is a bit too far. Instead, she shakes her head, loosening the tension the builds along her crest and shoulders, and shifts her weight back to a more relaxed stance while the magician considers her proposition. Her idea is met with hesitation that seems to melt into a grin and enthusiasm and though she hides most of her own amusement in a flick of her ears, there is still a broadening of the smirking smile on her lips.

    "Don't worry, Lilliana loves jokes," This is probably true, "But you have to try real hard to make her believe it, or it won't be as funny."

    There's a quiet moment between them - the white-faced mare has never been the best conversationalist, and she struggles, now, to to hold up her end of the encounter. The other mare's name tumbles over itself in her head like an acorn fallen into a rushing stream. It feels familiar, though she cannot say why she would know it, and finally shrugs the strange sense of familiarity away. Like most things, Neverwhere expects that if she waits long enough, the answer will come on its own without any additional coaxing. Instead she turns to watch the woven birds fly and swoop in such perfect mimicry of the real birds that they are not given any great berth by those of flesh and feather.

    "Neverwhere, Isilya" She blurts her name out carelessly and without much context, then changes the subject abruptly, pointing with her scarred muzzle back to the fluttering manikins "Why do you make them?"

    Surely the effort outweighs the reward?

    That bitch, Neverwhere

    Image by Cievesare


    @[Isilya]
    Reply
    #7
    When the white-faced mare presses the fact that Isilya would need to try really hard to make Lilliana believe it - the flower-adorned mare nods seriously to show that she understands completely. She wants it to be as funny as possible so she can be friends with both this mare and this Lilliana. “Okay, I think I can do that. I’ll just practice first!” If a joke is well-rehearsed that only makes it better, right? She hopes that she has at least a few days before she meets this Lilliana so she can come up with the exact right words to say to make someone believe that trees scream.

    She thinks on it for a moment but her mind fails her - but that’s okay, because she’s talking to Neverwhere right now! Not Lilliana so there’s no need to pretend that being a tree wasn’t anything than absolutely serene.

    The other mare blurts out her name - or what Isilya assumes is her name - but before Isilya can respond with her usual ‘it’s nice to meet you’ comment, she’s asked a question about her flower friends. She looks over to them and smiles, but does not call any of them closer just yet. “For company, mostly. I still feel a little out of place here. Partially because I lived as a tree for so long, but also the Beqanna I was born into was so different than the one that’s here now. My family is gone and I cannot force my four-legged friends to be with me all the time but I do love the company.” It’s not exactly the same as real friends, sure, but it must not come as a surprise to anyone that it does not take much to entertain and satisfy this shiny mare.

    She takes the opportunity of the conversation to ask about the place she has heard in relation to Neverwhere’s name. “You’re from Nerine, right? I recognize your name from when someone was telling me that there had been a change in the leadership.” How long ago that was, though, Isilya can no longer remember - she’s never been good with time since it affects her so little. “What’s it like there?”

    simple and sweet

    Isilya



    @[Neverwhere] look I replied within the same month!!
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    #8

    @[Isilya]'s family is gone. Neverwhere's family, too, is gone. At least, in a manner of speaking they are, lost to her through time and distance and nature. Somewhere, pieces of the family she left behind are surely living their harsh but mostly-quiet lives, surviving between the seasons in a way, not at all like the customs of Beqanna. She would be something foreign and strange to them, now, but unlike some, unlike Lillianna and Isilya, her heart is not embroidered with that thread of loss and sadness. She cannot find a place in her that misses them, she does not dwell on them, and it is unlikely any of them are wondering about her. They are creatures of the present, of right now, of the trouble or the good that is front of them, and if the past informs their behavior now, they do not dwell deeply on it, or on worry for the future.

    Beqanna has changed Neverwhere, at least a little. She does not forget so easily anymore. Her world grows less stark, less absolute, and she finds herself nodding as the little magician speaks. Neverwhere does not often feel lonely, she has spent so much time alone that she prefers the solitude, but the sensation of finding yourself adrift in a world that you don't recognize is familiar to her. Interestingly, perhaps, this is a feeling that she has felt more strongly since being given back her sight. It was easier to ignore things when you couldn't see them, easier not to investigate a world lost in shadow and glare.

    But so many details are lost to the sighted that had been apparent before. Scent and sound had served her better than sight ever had. It's a lesson that is hard to hold onto now, when her eyes, though clouded, see so clearly. Blinded by her perfect vision.

    "I usually prefer to be alone," and the bald-faced mare pauses on this thought without realizing the ungracious way it may sound to Isilya, already considering with difficulty the next question. What is Nerine like? Nerine is quiet, except for the way the sea storms howl, the way the waves crash, the way the nesting seabirds scream. Cool, except when the summer sun strikes from close above and there is nothing but scant shade to hide beneath. Harsh, but for the gentle lick of fog rising from the sea and pooling into Taiga like milk.

    "The North is a land of contrast," her lips twitch into something of a smirk, "it turns its people to ice and stone and shadow. I think it's likely quite different from Tephra."

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