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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening


    GHAUL -- Year 209


    "(souls are not meant to live more than once — death was not meant to be temporary, and she is so sure that every time her heart starts to beat again that irreversible damage is further inflicted)" -- Anonya, written by Colby

    the hymn of those who've gone before - yanhua
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    She hears it. A phantom hum of a River that isn't here. An illusion that murmurs in her silver ears about something gone and that she (stubbornly) refuses to forget. The ancient valley that Aletta once called home no longer exists but she still hears it from time to time - the ghost song of a waterfall that ushered in the happiest chapters of her life.  Echoes of a life well-lived that she carries with her.

    (A love. Children. And she - she! - a Regent to a kingdom.)

    When dawn breaks in Nerine, the light dances with the gray stone and the autumn fog. Not the most illuminating view, she has come to learn but still; the mist invites her to explore.

    There are very few times that Aletta can recall being made to feel as small as she does when she stands beneath the Taigan canopy. The feeling that arises is similar to a few moments - having her breath stolen standing atop a particularly proud mountain, a peak that kept company with the clouds. A wide, beautiful beach that when she (a horse of no powers) waded in, the water was such of striking clarity that she could see the bottom. The vibrant green of aquatic plants, the tropical splash of color that came from the schools of fish. The feeling doesn't come often but when it does, the wanderer calls and Aletta answers.

    The years fall away when it does. It's easier to remember who she was before; the pull and the tug of traveling have come easier than she thought they would. Years of staying in the same place - of waiting - have perhaps made her spirit more eager to move. (Perhaps, the gray mare is not as immovable as she once thought she was.)

    Aletta hears it, though. The call of the River is louder and more profound than the stirring in her chest. As daybreak reveals an afternoon, the wanderer moves through the imperial trees of Taiga (though she takes her time, a few trees give her pause to admire their age and height). The sound of the rushing water feels like an apparition; when the wind blows one way, it comes. The small mare would follow it, turn a corner of a trail and the noise would disappear. Rivers aren't apparitions though, she knows. They weave and wind and cut through landscapes just as her Mountains rise and fall to valleys.

    A river is not a ghost.

    When the might of Taiga's trees grow smaller, the River grows louder. (Proving her right - streams do not haunt.) It's not only the voice of the rushing rapids she hears, though. A younger, brighter one that belongs to a gleaming youth who shines almost too intensely in the autumn sunlight. (He could be a dazzling leaf himself, part of some proud Oak or Dogwood on display for the season.) The older mare stops, blinking once to adjust to the sight of him. The horns, a gleaming star on his chest, his (glowing?) flaxen mane and tufted tail. Aletta quirks her brow slightly to the patrolling Taigan, thinking she caught the last of his words.

    "Cursing in company?"

    Briefly, she looks away from him to admire what the growing youth had been looking at. Mountains, not so different from the ones that the storyteller had left behind, pierces the veil of Aletta's memories and softens her face as she regards the view.

    we turned our back on ordinary from the start
    show me the sky falling down

    photo credit to charlie---x

    Yanhua she wanted to say hello and i loved the idea of her hearing him swear lol


    It was hard to hear anything over the rapids, as close as Yanhua had come to the edge of the water. A few small steps further and he’d be balancing on a half-submerged boulder himself, getting sprayed by the river. He hadn’t expected an approaching horse from behind, and he certainly hadn’t heard the gray mare creep up, so when his earlier exclamation was answered aloud the sudden noise made him jump.

    “Whey!” He jumbled the words What and Hey! The golden chestnut whipped his head around so fast it actually hurt his neck for a moment.

    Frowning once he saw that it was only a silver-gray mare, Yanhua snorted and took a closer look at her. She was light bodied and elegant, from the way she stood to the tilt of her head. A smaller mare, though he had the advantage in height very often. In her eyes was a depth of knowledge he’d seen before in Lethia’s warm stare, but unlike his matriarchal friend and leader, this mare had a stance in her shoulders and the way she carried her head… he could only think of the word Regal.

    Cautiously, Yanhua relaxed. His expression softened as well, and he turned to face her with a shake of his horns. The little buzzing insects here were worse out in the open, so he stamped his goat hooves and shook out his uselessly short tail. “If I knew I had an audience,” He admitted, half apology and half complaint, “I’d choose better words for company.” Briefly, he bowed his head.

    “I’m sorry…?” Yanhua spoke on, lifting his denim blue eyes where he could see the stranger properly again. He jerked his hairy chin and shook an unruly forelock out of his face. He was hoping for her name, but pleasantries and a general rule of thumb to be a courteous Taigan meant he wouldn’t press the subject beyond an open-ended question.

    I GOT | Extra | FEELINGS

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    The first time, it was the blue of his eyes that caught her off-guard. Now, it seems, that it is her turn.

    Perhaps he didn't hear her approach over the rushing current of the water, maybe this unusually warm autumn day put him in mind of summer. The sun was pleasant, after all. And the day, despite the chill at the beginning of it, had long thawed out with the afternoon. Sunbeams broke through the colors of the leaves that rustled above them and glinted strikingly off the copper-coat of the young stallion. When he turned his head sharply to look back at her, they caught the fiery-undertones of it and illuminated his flaxen mane. The youth frowned at her while she considered him (and there was much to consider - the horns, the pale hair growing from his chin, his blue eyes).

    The horned colt turned around to face her and Aletta took a few more steps forward, not finding anything in his expression that told her otherwise. There was nothing there that silently said her presence was unwelcome.

    She glanced down briefly, frowning slightly at the crack in his hooves. Did they hurt? Did they give him some sure-footed ability that normal hooves did not? Raising her dark eyes to look up at him, she gave a shake of silver head. "They're usually not worth the pandering," she half-joked with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders. But the bob-tailed youth hadn't immediately apologized and that earned her approval. There was no sense for it, she thought. No need, not when he had assumed that he had been alone.

    When he bowed his head - perhaps with the apology that she assumed he didn't need to make - Aletta tilted hers again. But the drop of his makes it easier to get a good look at him, considering the way he already towered over her smaller frame. Her brow furrowed slightly at the intensity of his eyes but then Aletta cleared the thought away, lifting her gaze to stare up at him. "Wraith worked well enough in the past," she said, feeling slightly nostalgic as the ghost of a grin haunted at the edges of her mouth. A shade of her old humor emerging.

    And then she shook her head, reminding herself that she no longer drifted in and out with the seasons. Much as she had earlier implied to the flaxen-haired stallion, they were in company. Formal names was where polite conversation normally started and the younger horse gave her a strong impression of being just that. "Aletta," she finally offers, pricking her ears forward as she listened to the sound of the water running behind the Taigan. It's clean, spring-like scent seemed to brighten this part of the woods.

    It makes her consider this forest again and she wonders if there is something - more of that Beqanna Magic perhaps - that makes things grow so tall here, trees and horses alike. Like the youthful example in front of her. "And you? Do you have more than one to go by?"

    we turned our back on ordinary from the start
    show me the sky falling down

    photo credit to charlie---x

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