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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]  felt the wind underneath my wings
    #1


    On a still autumn night, the wind barely stirs.

    The branches above her rattle gingerly, touch each other tentatively now that they have been stripped of the last of their leaves. It is like they know the trepidation that comes in each step, that there is something in her that shivers the further into this forest she goes. Lilliana has avoided it until now. 

    Dusk creeps slowly and the shadows cast long. 

    In the frigid bite of the cool air, the chestnut mare is careful to observe everything about her. For every break of a twig, for every sound that comes from behind a tree, for every rustle of the brisk breeze, she is attentive to each noise that is carried her way. The red woman pauses, feeling the breeze brush past her and her ears flick forward and back, stop and swivel to catch any further sounds. 

    Silence. 

    There is only the rapid pumping of her heart and Lilliana wants to turn back, to go back to Taiga or Nerine but she stands. She stays, her blue eyes narrowing into the shadows, daring whatever lurks to come out. It’s only a flutter in her stomach that widens her gaze and the Ambassador turns her head to glance at her sides, a mixture of terror and awe that distracts her from whatever is hidden behind the trees and shrubs around her. The whole world vanishes for a moment and Lilliana is only aware of the life that makes itself known within her; a reminder that she shouldn’t be here.

    Another sound and swiftly, the chestnut tears her blue eyes away from her stomach. The flutter in her stomach moves to her heart and she struggles to keep her voice steady as she asks into the coming night: "Hello?”



    LILLIANA
    and its harder than you think
    telling dreams from one another
    art by the day of shadow
    but it's all in the past, love
    it's all gone with the wind
    Reply
    #2
    The minimally splashed white, bay overo finds himself wandering the trails of the Forest once again. With each passing day, he felt his desire to stay in Sylva weakening. He supposes the Forest offers a surrogate feeling of safety with its ability to shroud one in shadow and behind tree after tree. The now mature stallion is adept at navigating the leaf-littered trail with silent steps. He has spent his entire life walking on a bed of crunchy pine needles and fallen foliage. There was a point when the cocoa brown male, with his inky black mane and tail, and the splattered white on underside and lower limbs, chose to hide in his liquid form. Now, he had figured out how to hide in plain sight.

    Juice moves undetected amongst the trees. He travels into the crisp breeze to permit his olfactory sense to inspect the wafts delivered on the wind. His own musky scent is kept downwind of anyone on his trail. His stride keeps an even tempo and, his footfalls are light but steady. He moves with stealth until the perfume of a lady reaches his nares. Immediately, the young male tosses his poll into the heavens. He wonders if he should announce himself or, take the opposite approach and continue to sneak forward. Juice never outgrew the trademark immaturity and lack of impulse control. He very much enjoyed catching someone else off guard, whether accidentally or intentionally.

    At long last, his dark gaze catches a glimpse of the shiny copper pelt of the dame ahead of him on the path. He considers whispering "boo" in response but, notes her widened gaze and visible white sclera. Instead of entering kicking range, Juice draws to a halt. From this safe distance, he offers a a response to her query. His tone is smooth and warm, yet stings as the words pass through his lips. "Why hello. You seem a bit out of your element. Might I be able to offer some reassurance?"

    @[lilliana]
    Reply
    #3

    She can’t help it. 
    She glows.

    It can be easy to miss (except for Lilliana - she is always so conscious of her glow as only a horse born without any gifts can be.) There is a faint illumination coming from the paleness of her socks that she tries to quiet but there is only so much that the copper mare can do. Her unborn twins are perhaps having their first sibling argument (the fluttering seems to fluctuate from her heart to her stomach and she can’t quite pin the feeling down) as she tries to make out the source of the noise.

    She doesn’t want to glow. Especially now.

    That particular gift seems to be tied to her emotions, and there has been no taming those these days either.

    Finally, she dims.

    Her dark nostrils flare as she raises her chestnut head a little higher, searching through what dim light there is when the sound of approaching hoofsteps becomes louder. She can’t quite make out the scent from where she stands but the Taigan mare knows she isn’t alone. For a moment, that realization draws a blade against her heart and she can feel the blood in her veins pump harder, louder, insistent that she acknowledge her newfound fears.

    Ah, but the red woman can be stubborn at times.

    The sabino stallion comes to a halt, emerging into view and Lilliana takes in the measure of him. It isn’t a calculated look but rather one searching for merit and some indication of the substance of him (can that really be found with a single glance?). It will take time for her - and a journey - but the chestnut decides to trust herself.

    Realizing that she has spent a long, silent moment just staring at him, the Ambassador lets out a long breath and offers a tentative smile to the approacher. "How about an introduction?” Lilliana offers - a safe enough place to start. Her head lowers in a polite dip, ”I’m Lilliana. And you are?”

    She wonders what he means by her element; does he mean her scent of salt and evergreen, that she smells like freedom and nobility? The chestnut finds her head tilting just a little more as she raises it, curious. "Is this,” she implies with an upward glance before letting it come to rest on his bald face, "your element?”

    @[Juice]

    but it's all in the past, love
    it's all gone with the wind
    Reply
    #4
    The stallion studies the copper mare after his query lingers in the air. His inky eyes notes the iridescent glow coming from the white around her ankles. He lifts his gaze from her lower limbs to the finely chiseled features of her face. They make eye contact and Juice pivots his ears to face forwards. He listens closely to her words and, tilts his head ever-so-slightly to the left. He offers a soft smile in return to hers before he captures her name. Deciding he should offer his own, the sabino stallion finds his voice. "a pleasure it is to cross paths with you, Lilliana. My name is Juice."

    It was not until just recently, that the stag made the connection between his name and his trait. He found it curious that his parents named him this prior to obtaining his gift. Was he granted the ability to shift from a solid state to a liquid state because of his name? Or, did his parents have some uncanny ability (or, resource that had the ability) to see into the future? Whatever the reason, Juice had certainly instilled a little more faith into the magic of Beqanna. Besides, if anyone gave him a quizzical look now, he could easily justify his name in the time it took to take a single breath.

    Juice's attention is pulled back to the copper mare as her voice issues another question. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he understands why she might ask. With a light laugh, he replies, "The Forest is practically my home. I absolutely feel in my element here. Where is your element, Lilliana? Or, perhaps, what is your element is the better question?" His limited conversations made this one, with her, captivating; very intriguing. He could feel a playful banter in her influctuations. He enjoyed the non-routine aspect of the topic and, the characteristic depth it lends to the other. The white-splashed cocoa stud leans his weight off of one hip and, onto the other. He also makes a point of leaning away from the mare and lowering his poll as he physically and mentally settles into the conversation.

    @[lilliana]
    Reply
    #5
    He studies her and she keeps a careful eye on him. She’s a fool, she realizes, for being out here. The North offers shelter and security. The Common Lands only offer chaos.

    But there had been something in the tug of a rare easterly breeze that sighed and pulled her away from Taiga that morning. From her element, as Juice seemed to think of it. "@[Juice],” she finally says, trying the unfamiliar name on her tongue and attempting a small smile. It’s not his fault that she is afraid of the Forest. It’s not his fault that she comes out here time and time again like some unspoken challenge - an act of her own irrational defiance.

    "Likewise,” she agrees as her own weight shifts and settles from one side to another. Lilliana makes no motion to come closer but her blue eyes no longer flutter away to the brush behind him, searching for the nearest path that would allow her to leave quickly.

    The sabino stallion gives an airy laugh and the smile on her face eases, finally reaches and blossoms in the warmth of her gaze. "Are kingdoms not good enough for you then?” It is said without judgment - for some horses, the life of a nomad is all they need. As the daughter of one, she would never begrudge someone their desire to wander. Their world is filled to the brim with characters, all with their own unique part to play. The question is asked, instead, with all her easy-going humor. 

    ('Three horses see a mountain. One might move on, another might decide to conquer it and another might long to know what is on the other side,’ her mother had once said.)

    Genuinely curious, she asks with an attentive tilt of her head: "How did you end up in the Forest?”

    Where, he asks, is her element. Or rather what is her element. The smile falls a little as she considers this and it pauses their banter. "If I have one,” the Diplomat offers, "it would be the North. As to what," her brow furrows with contemplation, "Air, perhaps.” Lilliana speaks with a soft voice, thinking of Valerio and his affinity for the winds. "Water,” she adds, thinking of the peace she finds walking by the River. "Stone. Forest.” Lonely, gray cliffs of Nerine. The proud, unwavering strength of Taiga. The chestnut gives her slender shoulders a shrug and a rueful smile to Juice, "I’m afraid I can’t pick just one.”

    LILLIANA

    all that i'm after is a life full of laughter
    (as long as i'm laughing with you)


    art by vhitany
    but it's all in the past, love
    it's all gone with the wind
    Reply
    #6
    His first stop after being released from Loess, is the Forest. After all this time, the maze of spruce, maple and elm trees still offer Jesper comfort. Their shade provides him the security to slip amongst the shadows. Their scent enters his nares and, simultaneously, invigorates his senses. The bronze-highlighted black draws to a halt. His four limbs cease motion where they are and then, the stallion stretches his whiskered muzzle out in front of him. He tosses his head and starts a ripple effect as the shake travels down his neck and, courses through the rest of his body. He decides that the only way to rid his pelt of the Loess scent is to mask it with another. An unshod hoof rakes across the sodden ground as he tests the now loose soil. He inspects the terrain with his sensitive olfactories before deciding to march ahead.

    Nostrils continue to filter through the scents of the Forest until Jesper finds exactly the right spot. Right there, his knees bend and his forelimbs sink into the dirt. Muscled haunches follow suit and then, chin outstretches until cheeks press into the soft soil. A sigh ushers from lungs before the black steed proceeds to press his right shoulder into the dirt and thrust his limbs over his abdomen until he is on his left side. He flips back and forth until satisfied with the amount of dirt plastered to his sides and the number of pine needles embedded into his tresses. The male uprights himself and shakes gently. With a nod of approval, Jesper moves through the narrow passage between the trees.

    He only pauses again when his nares detect two scents: one female and one male. Neither scent is familiar and yet, he is curious to meet the bearers of these new colognes. With a decided snort, Jesper pushes forward until his aquamarine gaze catches sight of the copper mare and the white-splashed cocoa stag. He acknowledges the mare first, out of etiquette, with a lowered poll and soft smile. His gaze flicks to the male and, he offers a slighter nod and a fainter smile. There is no recognition behind his eyes; he has absolutely no clue that his gaze rests upon his first born; his son.

    For a moment, Jesper gauges the air between the two. It does not seem like a courtship in progress and, for that, he is grateful not to have interrupted such an encounter. Rather, the two are displaying relaxed body language and, a warm expression. The red mare smells of wood though, a different type of tree than what is found here. The scent is strong and, obviously, her home base. After a moment, he recognizes the scent from his brief passage through the redwood forest of Taiga. The male's scent is characterized by the wood of multiple trees; indistinguishable, though, he could say with quite some certainty that the overo male had recently called the Forest home. He feels for the lad; having resided in the Forest, himself.

    At this point, the black steed is quite certain that their focus is no longer on each other and, is now on him. He decides it best to introduce himself before things get awkward. "I do apologize for barging in on your conversation. I was out for a stroll and became curious who else may be enjoying the Forest, today. My name is Jesper. And, you are?" He makes a point to gesture towards both of them as he inquires about their identity. Settling back, the black steed casually shifts his weight from one hip to the other. His lobes focus on each of them, waiting to see who would respond first.
    Reply
    #7
    See? some persistent part of her asks, See?

    The world doesn’t descend into chaos. Nothing comes crashing down on her head. The trees don’t groan their judgment in the frigid arctic breeze and there are no shadows to deflect her attention from her sabino companion. It is simply another brisk, chilly day in the Forest.

    Beqanna turns another season and lulls its inhabitants into the upcoming hibernation. When the snow covers the ground, most horses will keep to their kingdoms and their territories. Why brave the elements when they have the protection of a home? Her pregnancy will be far enough along by then that the chestnut knows she will be one of them - one of the many horses that tuck themselves away until Spring.

    And even then, part of her had thought she wouldn’t be able to bear to leave Taiga. Juice, however, manages to convince a small part of her that perhaps she can. Perhaps once her twins are born, her life might resemble some sense of normalcy that she can resume recruiting and her diplomatic duties in the North. Perhaps. It’s a small strand of hope but the traveler has placed the first thread of it back into her life. Lilliana will take that to weave a deal with the dragon prince of Nerine for the return of Brine and Brinly. And then- 

    Her thoughts of the Loessian captive is disturbed by the profound flutter of one of Wolbanes’ colts.

    Another horse approaches and Lilliana glances quickly through the scrub to see a black stallion. She doesn’t know him by sight alone. It had only been a  name that they had been given. Brennen had adorned a thundercloud facade of rage when his Magic hadn’t been able to keep Jesper from being stolen. Nerine had tried (and failed) at trying to seek a plan of action in rescuing him. There had been two missing mares from the old Amazon kingdom. The Pangean heir (thanks to Lilliana) had been in their custody. While the Northern kingdom had grown in numbers over the past year, their ranks had been spread thin and even more so when a good number of the population found themselves expecting (the Nerinian Champion included).

    Lilliana has thought of Jesper often - how he fared in Loess, how they would retrieve him. (If there is any silver lining to this situation, she thinks he is fortunate to have missed the burning of his frozen home.)

    So when he manifests from a small band of trees and introduces himself, her blue eyes widen and she can feel the shock of his introduction electrify her features. "@[Jesper]?” the copper mare asks, somewhere between confusion and disbelief. It lingers before dissipating into an expression of genuine relief and joy to see him so hale, so healthy despite his captivity. "They let you go?” she asks, wondering the obvious question she doesn’t say aloud. Why? What had been the point of stealing him? She catches herself before going too far down this trail - there is only trouble for wandering down the path of things that don't make sense. 

    The Taigan mare beams up at him while giving a polite nod, "I’m Lilliana, a diplomat from the North.” Brennen will be so glad to see you, she thinks with a glowing smile as she glances back to the bay stallion. "And this is Juice - the Forest dweller.”

    LILLIANA

    all that i'm after is a life full of laughter
    (as long as i'm laughing with you)


    art by vhitany
    but it's all in the past, love
    it's all gone with the wind
    Reply
    #8
    The tri-colored stallion offers a smile that widens as she expresses an affinity for this conversation with him. As a self-proclaimed loner, the bay splash male could care less what others thought of him or, whether or not he is liked. He could just as easily have walked by her. So, what stopped him? What about her convinced him to linger and converse? He could not be sure but, something held him here. Perhaps, some fine threads of Beqanna magic reached him. Magic or, maybe even fate. The bay splash stallion catches the light-hearted question the copper mare asks. Her humor succeeds in making the query seem innocent and curious, without judgement.

    He offers a chuckle before he finds his voice to reply. "Not necessarily. I was born under Sylva's flag and, called it home until I realized I preferred to do my own thing. That is not to say that some kingdom out there does not have a place for me but, one has not yet sought me out." He adds a nod as if that alone solidifies his answer. How did you end up in the Forest? is her next query. He thought the Forest was a logical place to reside and, so he said. "I just felt like I belonged." He tunes in as Lilliana attempts to deduce her element. His flesh-toned lips begin to curve into a smirk when his tufted antennae catch the soft crush of twigs beneath hooves. His black pools focus on the dusty black equine that joins them.

    Juice notes the bronze tips of his ears and highlights in his mane and tail. The bay splash had not seen bronze markings since he last saw his sister though, all of her tresses are of the golden-copper hue. The black is barely marked with any other color, including white. The white-splashed cocoa stag listens to the black's introduction, his expression aloof until the word Jesper leaves his lips. At first, Juice is not sure he heard correctly. His right lobe flicks toward the copper mare who repeats back the name to make sure she, too, had heard it correctly. Jesper. JESPER. His second thought is an overwhelming pulse of emotions that have been suppressed for years.

    RAGE. A burning hatred for the father who deserted his "one-true love", leaving her to be tortured by Sylva and, all while she was carrying his children! A bitter coldness for being abandoned; betrayed by your own flesh and blood, by your own parent. He contemplates shifting into a puddle and just disappearing but, he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

    As the storm swirls within his thinker-box, his external features are unable to hide his feelings. His dark eyes roll up and back. A haze clouds his gaze and, wrinkles form above his nostrils and lips as he pulls his rubbery labrums back. His black-tipped lobes flatten to his poll and, without so much as a second thought, the taller stag lunges to his right. His dad stands a hair shorter than him though, Juice found himself on a slight incline. Hind limbs thrust chassis towards his sire with neck uncoiled to allowed bared teeth to make contact.

    His incisors meet their mark on the lowest part of his crest, just ahead of his withers. There, he sinks his flat dentition in and shakes his head, aggressively. When his front hooves slam into the earth, his broad chest rams the black's shoulder and pushes his forehand away. As Juice feels his father's crest slip through his grip, he let's go. However, he does not back off. Tufted lobes stay nestled beneath jet black tresses and, lips remain tightly curled upward. It is now that he speaks his first words to his father though, his tone is a hiss and, he spits as the words slip through his lips. "How dare you."
    Reply
    #9
    Jesper is not ignorant to how a conversation changes based on those participating. He fully expects the dynamic of the pair to change upon his arrival. However, he could not anticipate the copper mare's widened gaze. Obviously, she knew of him. It is also clear to Jesper that she cannot believe her eyes. As she repeats his name, the coal-toned male nods to affirm her query.

    His attention focuses upon the mare's puzzled expression so intently that he fails to note the rising fury in the tri-colored stag. By the time Jesper does shift his gaze, the white-splashed male is mid-lunge. It is too late to dodge the blow. Even if he shifted into his canine form, he would risk a greater injury. Clearly, this guy intends to cause some damage, but he chose an attack that will result in neither permanent physical damage, nor much immediate pain. The black shifts his weight to brace for the inevitable impact. His poll lifts and his bronze-tipped ears flatten to his skull.

    Jesper feels a pinch at the base of his neck as blunt incisors latch and squeeze his crest. His instinct is to toss his head back, maybe slap his attacker, in the face, with a heavy wad of tangled locks. He fights the urge to twist or, jerk free. Instead, the black draws his whiskered chin into his breast to arch his neck. He holds this position as the tri-colored stallion broadsides his shoulder and, agily keeps his balance. The force of the collision is enough to slide out from between the other's teeth. The black feels a chunk of his mane rip from their follicles. Jesper holds his coiled posture, with lobes pinned flat to his head. While nestled beneath his thick mane, he picks up the steed's hiss first. How dare you. For a moment, the black is confused as to how he is at fault here. That is, until his acute hearing detects the female's voice and, the second half of her introduction. This is Juice - the Forest dweller.

    All at once, the entire scene makes sense. Jesper slowly uncoils himself so that he does not appear as though he plans to counter Juice's attack. His bronze-tipped ears stand at attention and, his cold, nearly white gaze softens. He takes a step away from the white-splashed bay to grant him a respectful space and, to get a better look at him. He takes his time allowing his aquamarine gaze to study the features of his son. He wanted to say, You remind me so much of your mother or, You have her stockings and, her eyes. Somehow, the loquacious fox-shifter is at a momentary loss of what to say.

    He glances nervously at Lilliana, wondering what her thoughts are based on what she just witnessed. He glances back at the still-writhing expression of his eldest and, takes a deep sigh. Lowering his gaze, Jesper shifts his weight before parting his maw and addressing both of them. "I know. I am sorry, Juice. I have a lot of explaining to do. Please, hear me out." He hopes that his plea is enough to soften his son's demeanor. Perhaps, the mare's presence will help make the conversation less hostile. He doubts it can be any less awkward though, he had every intention of explaining himself. At the very least, he owes that much to Juice, for the sake of Lamb.

    @[lilliana] @[Juice]
    Reply
    #10
    If Lilliana was a smarter mare, she might have learned more about the “gifts” that Beqanna had bestowed on her.

    The red mare was born as ordinary as she appears. There was nothing unusual about her when she first opened her eyes, nothing spectacular when she took her first wobbling steps. Lilliana was the result of a midnight consolation between two desolate lovers - a moon and a sun who should have never been parted.

    The only gift she had ever known - the only true one that she learned to wield - was a smile that she learned to resurrect sunshine with. Storm clouds could gather on the faces that she loved and Lilliana learned that it was her sweet disposition - her radiating smile -  that could chase away all their troubles.

    The ones that plague her body now - that feel more like a burden than a blessing - are almost untouched. (The exception is her healing and even that is only used on a mare of breaking bone and blood. Because they have a bond that runs deeper than both.)

    Her mind isn’t occupied with any of that right now. Her energy is all on @[Jesper] because of what his return to the North will mean. Whatever Loess had wanted with him can be momentarily forgotten - the entire ordeal surrounding his capture can be ignored. He has been returned and her mind firmly decides that this should be the only thing that matters.

    And that thought echoes down to her very hooves, already begging to run North.

    Her face is brightening - glowing with a warmth that Icarus must have felt before he flew too close to the sun - and then she falls.

    The world burns.

    (She can’t know it’s Juice’s fury running hot through her veins; not when she has enough hidden rage in her own.)

    It’s a blaze of orange and red, a world on fire. It seethes and fumes until it shifts way to a source - a place from where the fire originates.

    (A cracking voice. A plea. "Please, Lavendel, wait! You are my mom. I am your son. I am Juice. You gave birth to me and Jager, deep in the Sylvan forest. Our dad is Jesper.”)

    "Please,” she says, echoing the cry that Juice once gave his mother. (Though Lilliana doesn’t know more than this - it’s only a fractured image; a memory burning beneath the anger.)

    Her own slender body angles away from both stallions, trying to stop the shaking that violently wracks her body. There are other memories that threaten to undo her - a girl so recently undone and only recently weaving herself back together again.

    A life leaving the eyes of a golden mare, growing empty as her body grew cold. A way that a man says her name, stifling the last of her own light. (Ruin, some part of her echoes. Ruin from the moment your name fell from his lips.)

    There are two heartbeats within her and she won’t place herself in danger. That much is said when she raises her head with shining eyes, trying to keep the anger from boiling over. It spills from her eyes instead. "Jesper is needed in the North,” she says with a low voice, turning a look at the dark stallion. "The Isle has been razed. It was still burning when I last left Nerine.” The black plume had been visible for miles. Ash had fallen on the most northern edges of their iron coastline.

    Turning her attention back to the sabino, she starts to glow at her fetlocks. "He is under the protection of Nerine. He might not deserve your filial duty but he is needed home.” There is an edge to her voice, a way she has learned of building it to make herself sound more controlled than she is.

    As an Ambassador of the Taiga and a Diplomat of Nerine, she has some say.

    What she is actually able to do physically is limited but perhaps with the might of Nerine behind her words, it might do something. Or it might not do anything at all. He could do as his Father asked - hear him out. Her expression softens as she tries to count her heartbeats, as she reminds herself to breathe. A silent invitation to @[Juice] that says that could come with them too, that perhaps he could learn something. Just no more violence, Lilliana begs. 

    The chestnut finally dims, watching for his choice, wishing she could tell him that it might only come once. That fathers could leave as easily as they never existed. 

    LILLIANA

    all that i'm after is a life full of laughter
    (as long as i'm laughing with you)


    art by vhitany

    let me know if you'd like anything changed!
    but it's all in the past, love
    it's all gone with the wind
    Reply




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