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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]  the vows of ruin
    #1
    At the time, trying to be like Quiet had seemed like a good idea.  There was no controlling the sound as she could - he had absolutely tried that.  The day that he had tried to silence her and take away her voice after an argument had resulted in a burning embarrassment that he still didn’t like to recall or talk about. And well, if he couldn’t control the noise as she could, growing wings would be the second-best choice.  Sprouting them had been easy enough; just a quick mental image and a pair of large, dark wings bristled and grew wide and strong, and very little capable of flight.

    The taking off and gaining altitude had proven easy enough too.

    It was the slowing down and the landing that he was beginning to realize was a more prominent issue that needed addressing.  And before he realized what he was doing, the ground seemed to lurch and rise beneath him, reaching to meet with his struggling legs that longed to stand atop solid ground again.  

    Beginner’s luck maybe, but his landing is fairly underwhelming.  The vast open area of the meadow saves him from meeting with any tree canopies, and the winds are gentle today as they roll through Beqanna.  And when his feet do meet with the brittle autumn grass, there’s only a minute skid and falter before he is quickly righted and standing again.  Surprised by the ordeal, he stands there a bit hunched over, wide-eyed, practically panting, and apparently unable to move until a solid couple of minutes have seeped by.  His eyes are the first to move, followed by his head, wings, tail then legs, slowly coming to a conscious understanding of just how lucky he was to be alive.

    After smoothing the unkempt feathers back into their appropriate places, he spared a glance around, checking out the strangers gathered and conversing in the distance, and Hyaline’s crown of mountains just beyond.  A stream caught his violet gaze just off to the left, and the dry, scratchy feeling in his throat from his terrified screams a few moments before begged to feel the cool relief of water.

    When he turns his legs are still shakey and practically rubber, and he doesn’t see the old gnarled tree root that lifts just high enough to catch his hoof.  All he can manage is a startled croak and an unceremonious flapping of his wings before a dull thud and a plume of agitated dust rise when his head, neck, and chest collide with the ground.
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    #2

    When the sudden thud brought her ears and eyes up she was busily preening her rosebud wings. Gently she moistens them from the trickling stream at her feet; she must do this diligently every few days. She bares large vibrant wings of colorful flora, with thorny vines entwined with bright crimson red roses, and emerald fan leaves fanning out at the tips like proper feathers. She is devoted to them always, tending to her living appendages daily in one way or another. They look fragile but they are not.

    ... she is interrupted.

    She folds her sturdy wings when he causes a commotion with his toppling over himself. Padme could have laughed at him, or made a joke, but she just levels her pale purple eyes onto him without emotion. ‘Are you thick in the head?’ is the expression most prominent in the lines of her young, smooth face. Her long black hair is tousled perfectly over the crooked white blaze down her dark face. She says nothing, quietly watching him without a frown or a smile – observing him plainly, sort of rudely, even.


    PADMÉ
    the high black water, the devil's daughter


    @[Nerve]
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    #3
    Nerve groaned as the dirt plume settled around and overtop him, coating him well enough to make the shine in his black coat go dull in spite of the sunshine.  With his rear still in the air, there wasn’t much he could do from the position he was in, so he let gravity finish her work and let his back half lie on the ground with the front, more troublesome half.  He coughed to clear the itchy debris out of his throat before moving violet eyes around to assess the damage he’d done.  Remarkably he was fairly unscathed, save for the wicked hit at his pride and the nasty remark from the pretty, annoyed girl who was still staring at him.  Like he had stumbled on purpose just to ruin her preening.


    He grumbled inaudibly at first, trying to release his hoof still ensnared by the root.  “I dunno, maybe.” Again he tried to free himself with a stronger effort, and again he failed.  Without giving her the satisfaction of looking her way he quipped, "Better than having a thorn stuck in my butt though.”


    Nerve changed his mind at the last second and turned to give her a sour glare before sighing, knowing he had only one choice now.  In rapid succession, he shifted from a rhino to a cougar, to a dingo, before settling on a mongoose - his body becoming petite enough to release the stubborn roots grasps.  Once free, he rose to he full wingless horse self, shaking the last of the lingering dust off.


    Turning, he noticed she was still there.  The shifter stared at her blankly at first, before shooting her a contemptuous look.  “Are you going to be nice or should I just keep walking?”


    @[Padme]
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    #4

    Her facial expressions must give her away more than she had initially thought because the befuddled boy was quite up in arms about the way she looked at him. She did not ask it out loud, she ponders, but apparently she may as well have. She laughs at him, ‘thorn up my butt’ ̶ she scoffs, watching him struggle. “A thorn up my butt?” her pretty eyes contort with a wrinkle of her face, mocking him, “Infant.” she tosses her long pretty tail and adjusts her rosy wings, tipping her chin up to pretend to have a look around as she stands ankle deep on the opposite bank.

    When he turns back to her she pretends not to care ̶ but she is very curious to see if she’s gotten his attention. Despite her genes, her extended wisdom for her young age, she is still (somewhere in there) a stupid little girl. Let us assume this is her fashion of flirting. It is going as it has gone the two or three times prior, she is scaring off her subject of confused and misguided desire.

    She’s left awestruck when she follows the glint and the mysterious sound coming from across the river. His shifting wipes her mind clear and captures her full attention. She is a little spooked, as is the nature of being an equine of any kind (even magical). She snorts, smiling finally, twitching her big rose and vine wings, the leaves at their tips fanning out.

    I guess so, but what you do is entirely up to you, Weasel..” she giggles, her girly, sweet-milk voice comes through as it did not before. She has to speak a little loud, the river gushes between them with a louder voice than hers. It seems appropriate now, she thinks, to cross the river at the small bridge up ahead and approach the boy on his own side. So she does just that, crossing and walking toward him through the long wetland grasses and shrubbery.

    I am Padmé ̶ what’s your name, Weasel?





    PADMÉ
    the high black water, the devil's daughter



    i may have rambled? i am not sure.
    i blacked out Tongue
    ❤️ @[Nerve]
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    #5
    The winged mare parrots back with a thorn up my butt? and he watches with cool violet eyes as she finds a shallow suitable for wading through.  Nerve waits on the riverside bank for her, ever so patiently until she is in a prime location, front and center, to see his the line of his mouth curve into a crooked grin, “Yeah, you know,  It’s when a sharp pointy object gets lodged in that shapely tuckus of yours.  And you thought I was dense,” he chides with a flippant scoff, testing the young mare’s boundaries, knowing fully well that she had understood him to begin with.


    Weasel, she calls him and he dramatically balks at such language.  THAT is offensive, madame.  I am OFFENDED!”  To confuse a mongoose and a weasel was a crime against furry critters everywhere and he makes a great show of staring at her with disdain and mouth hanging ajar in complete and utter shock.  “First of all, weasels are cute and fluffy.  I am not cute, nor fluffy.  Secondly, mongooses are sleek and fight off snakes which is - hooves down - way cooler,” he stopped to smile stupidly with a slight puff in his chest, “like me.”


    He can’t keep up with this charade much longer though, and he snorts indecently with laughter before giving up entirely, seizing with fits of giggles until his eyes watered.  When he was able to calm down some, enough to catch his breath and look around to see if she still bothered to grace him with her presence he said, “I’m Nerve.  Why are you out here by yourself Padme?”


    @[Padme] he is such a dork lol
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