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    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]  i left my daydreams at the gate; gar, any
    #1
    Father’s rage had been great when he realized that Yadigar had turned up missing, though he did his best to hide it from Mother and the girls. Clarissa indeed produced another egg after the previous fall, and Virgil had hatched just a few months past. Ciri knows that Father suspects Gar of leaving of his own free will - they have safety nets in place if someone that doesn’t belong crosses the border, and Gospel would have notified Ghaul the moment an intruder stole away the prince.

    It is a good thing that Father cannot read minds, and that he spends much of his time in Pangea, anyways; Ciri has a guilty conscience, and keeping the truth even from Asphyxea is proving to be harder than she could ever imagine. She is certain that if Clarissa were not so enthralled with the newborn Virgil, that she too would be suspicious of her daughter.

    It is under the cover of darkness that Cirilla finally flits away from the nest, pressing a kiss to Phyx’s temple before she goes. The girl stirs in her sleep but doesn’t awaken, and Ciri leaves silently, projecting an aura of peace over her sleeping family as she slinks away. A flood of tears threaten to fall as she stares at them all, memorizing their faces and hoping that one day, Mother and her siblings will choose to join them.

    She doesn’t meet Tarte at the border, as they had been talking about for so many days now; she finds that when she reaches the border of Pangea she cannot stop, as she is afraid that her fear will force her to turn back. She treks carefully along the beaches of Hyaline, knowing that the ruler here must be fierce, as Father would not have allowed the leadership to go to anyone meek or tame. She wonders if the panther-stallion will find her, and if he will see the yearling as a princess or just as a piece of prey.

    Fortunately, luck is on her side and she makes it through Hyaline unscathed, coming only to a stop when the mountains are but a mere shadow behind her and even the pine forest of Taiga is beginning to fade in the distance. She knows that this new, strange land must be Nerine, where her brother had told her to find him, but suddenly she feels very scared and very, very alone in a new, strange place.

    cirilla
    my sky's not blue, it's violent rain.



    @[yadigar]
    #2
    Nashua spends most of his time on the Isle. He mocks and he grows into that broad chest. He practices flying further distances and aspires to grow into the width of his wings. He listens to his Freyer and learns from the older colts that call Icicle Isle home. Time passes and Nashua drifts with it, soaring into the passage of months like he glides with a south-easterly breeze over the open ocean.

    When winter is fierce - when it is still biting and frigid - these flights are few and far in between. But spring (with summer blowing sweet and warm on each updraft, a promise that is so close) allows the adolescent pegasus the chance to make a quick journey. Nashua intends - as he always does when he first spreads those glorious wings of his - to head to Taiga for a visit with twin, Yanhua, and his mother.

    He likes to fill them on the antics of the other colts. He likes to tell them the stories that he hears from his comrades that come from all corners of Beqanna. But most of all, he just enjoys being with his family again.

    The wind blows more easterly than southerly today. Nashua - who can’t recall his last visit with his Aunt Brazen - decides to pay Nerine a visit first. Taiga remains fixed very firmly in his sights so that there will be time to travel between both places. He expects to find his bone-armored aunt in this corner of the Northern kingdom and his brow creases slightly when what he spies isn’t her at all.

    It’s a girl - younger than him - painted in all the colors of the sky that he has just come from. His gait becomes brisk and with a purpose when he goes to greet her, taking on the role of a Diplomat though he doesn’t call this place home. His allegiance, he remembers, is to the North. And the North needs to be wary, he reminds himself.

    Outsiders could bring danger.

    "Can I help you?” he calls out so that she will see him long before Nashua comes to stop in front of her. He's curious as to why she's here. Scaring her now would serve no purpose at all. A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth though his stance leans the other way, to the direction of his home and where his family (and loyalty) resides. Nash tucks his wings tightly against his sides, weighing out all the reasons why a filly carrying the scents of Hyaline and Taiga (and other places that he has never been to) would be waiting on the edges of Nerine.



    nashua
    and the days you defend will turn to gold
    html by castlegraphics; art by KHARTHIAN


    @[cirilla] he was curious and wanted to come say hello Smile
    [Image: jCdBK6.png]
    #3
    Cirilla may be growing taller with age, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever fill out to be quite like her father or Gar. They are dragons, after all, and Ciri is just... Ciri. She seems to be gaining traits that coincide with her mother’s angelic side more than anything, but the girl doesn’t mind that too terribly. Her mother is pure innocence embodied, despite Gar’s insistence on her ignorance. Perhaps she ignores Father’s worst side, but Ciri knows that there is nothing malicious in her mother, and she envies her for that. Even Ciri has days when the anger takes over, and she yearns to be more at peace with the world.

    She wonders if the world is teetering on the brink of a war; Gar had seemed desperate when he implored them to join him in Nerine, but as she waits she wonders if he’s even going to appear. Had he just wanted her and Tarte someplace safe from Father’s wrath? And is the North even safe? It shares a border with the East, and would be a short flight for Ghaul to come and ravage this place. Mother had told them the story of how he had set flame to Taiga when they took him captive years before the birth of the triplets. Clarissa had seemed in awe telling them the story, but Ciri remembers quavering through the entire thing. Her nightmares had been filled with flame for weeks, though she had never told another soul about them.

    Her eyes anxiously scan the horizon as she looks for Gar, or even Tarte, but it seems to be a futile whim. A large set of wings, however, catch her eye, and she plasters a polite smile on her face as she meets the eye of the slightly older colt. He comes to a stop before her and she trembles slightly as nerves take over, her smile faltering for just a moment. He seems wary of her and it only makes her more nervous.

    “I am Cirilla, Princess of the East,” she declares with more confidence than she realized possible, her eyes pools of molten gold. “I am... I, um,” she continues, only for words to fail her. She breaks eye contact then, her eyes falling to a point between his hooves instead. “I am... renouncing my title of princess, and hoping to find a new home here in Nerine,” she whispers, trying to blink away sudden tears as a terrible longing fills her chest. She aches to return to her mother’s side, but perhaps it is too late now.

    “I seek asylum from my Father’s cruelty, and my brother asked me to meet him here. Yadigar,” she adds, as an afterthought. “He was supposed to meet me here, but now I’m worried that he’s returned to our Father. He has tried to kill my brother and I’m terribly afraid he’s going to go through with it.”

    Realizing that she’s probably said all of the wrong things, she clamps her mouth shut, but it’s too late now. Gulping, she forces her eyes back to the stranger’s, wondering what is going to happen next.

    @[Nashua]
    #4

    cold in the violence after the war
    hope is a fire to keep us warm

    Sometimes days and nights seem to bleed together, not marking the passing of time so much as it does just another moment pushing herself to the brink. Another moment in which to train harder, move faster. It is only when she sees Nash in the distance that she realizes how much time had passed since their last sparring session. And, consequently, realizing how she had let time slip away from her.

    But as she moves to intercept him, she notices his attention is not focused on her, but rather a figure in the distance, lingering on the border of her home. He is much closer, but she pushes into a familiar lope to join them, ignoring the way her skin pulls and tears where it had only just begun to heal against the ragged edges of bone jutting through. It is an old pain, hardly noticed anymore (though to outsiders the way blood stains her skin, painting ivory bone red and masking her in its sharp coppery scent, often proves alarming).

    She draws close in time to hear the girl’s tale, and as the pieces click into place, a repressed ferocity bubbles forth. Though it is not directed at Cirilla, when combined with the bloody bone masking her features and wide sweep of her curved horns, her visage grows unconsciously fearsome.

    “Ghaul?” she asks, interrupting the conversation somewhat heedlessly. Though the filly hadn’t named names, it’s hardly a leap to make the connection. “If you seek asylum from him, you’re welcome in Nerine.” Perhaps it’s not a diplomatically approved invitation, but Brazen has never paid much heed to that anyway. “And if he wants to harm anyone here, I will happily drive my horn into his throat for trying.”


    Brazen


    #5

    Nash, much to his chagrin, is a blend of his parents. He wears the copper coat of his mother (though his is slightly darker, like Beqanna took the fire from it) but the green eyes are not hers. The wings and his bright viridian eyes  - as hard as Lilliana had tried to say that they were a gift from some long-dead ancestor named Karasu and his Aunt Elena tried convince him that his emerald eyes came from an Uncle he’ll never know - belong to a father who has been declared an enemy to the Northlands.

    For those who know about the Monster and can recall the former Commandant of Taiga, Nashua’s flaxen mane and tail, his stripes and his wings all mark him clearly as his father’s son. There is no amount of insisting that can change that. There are plenty of murmurs from the Northerners who remember the Commandant and recall the pretty Diplomat from the Redwoods. Maybe that’s why Nashua tries so hard to excel. He spars with Leilan and any of the colts who are willing on the Isle. He learns to patrol and as he grows into his wings, he adds his own responsibilities.

    Visiting with his family in Taiga is a priority but a patrol of Nerine’s border and an assessment to take back to the Freyer about Brennen’s barrier takes precedence. They’ll have to do more, he knows. Just what that more is has yet to be determined (or shared with Nash).

    The girl seems anxious and Nash tilts his head slightly, wondering if he’s the one that’s put her at ill-ease. She’s trembling and Nashua is lost as to how to help. The only thing he can think of is to stand quietly; he makes no sudden movements and he hopes by that the way that he stands stoically still that she understands that she will come to no harm in Nerine. (At least, not from him).

    She seems too. The blue filly states a name - hers - rather formally and Nashua dips his head in a slight nod. "Nash,” the copper pegasus offers, abandoning the use of his full name. "Ward of the Isle,” he adds in her response to her own title (one that slightly shocks him as his slender head rises) with a smile that itches to broaden. A princess from Pangea? Here?

    He doesn’t have to ask because she renounces her title moments later. She drops it at his hooves, much like her golden gaze. The sky-colored girl drops her gaze and Nash glances down, hoping that she might see that he’d help her when the displaced princess looked up. The metallic smell of blood makes him look away and when Nashua glances towards the sound of hoofbeats, he sees his Aunt Brazen loping towards them. Good, the young stallion thinks. His rather fierce-looking aunt is always a welcome sight to the growing pegasus.

    Brazen swings her proud antlers when she stops - like she could take a stab at Ghaul now - and the chestnut pegasus can hardly stifle his grin. It rises boyishly lopsided on one corner of his pale mouth. "This is my aunt, @[Brazen].” Nashua explains warmly with his green eyes resting on her before he looks to @[cirilla] again. (Brazen is every bit as intimidating as her bone-armored edges and Nash adores her for it. An outsider might find her a bit terrifying, though.) At the mention of the Pangean king and another of his heirs seeking shelter in the North, Nashua realizes he will have to take this to Leilan. His Freyer would want to be aware that the children of Ghaul were seeking asylum in the North.

    It might mean that something was happening.
    And soon.

    "If your brother isn’t here, is there somewhere else he might go besides Pangea?” Nashua asks, his mind already alight with all the possible places a Prince of the East might hide. 




    nashua
    and the days you defend will turn to gold
    html by castlegraphics; art by KHARTHIAN


    you both got a novel, i'm sorry
    [Image: jCdBK6.png]




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