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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


    [private]  hold back the river; altissima
    #1



    He spent his last days in Liridon with his uncle, his father’s brother. Tarian has never been a creature who lusted for adventure, has never been a soul who longed for enterprise. An heir to a forgotten kingdom - a kingdom they had both known - it had seemed fitting that he spent his last days with someone in Liridon who remembered it. 

    They hadn’t lamented as they reminisced. They didn’t yearn as they remembered. 
    They walked - to and toward.

    Tarian listened as Jay told him about prophecies that could be found in the tidal patterns left behind the ocean as the tides receded. Tarian listened as he was told about how the stars - a compass, a guide, something that pegasi knew instinctually to measure their hearts and wing strokes by - reflected similar patterns; futures and destinies could be found there, too. In the Winds, in the change of seasons. (Tarian had his doubts about some of these things but there is a reason why he is a warrior and his Uncle a Shaman.)

    The silver stallion had listened, so intently, that on his last night, he had been taken by surprise to hear whalesong echoing in his Uncle’s cove. A parting hymn, a song he had carried with him from the ocean to the sky.

    The wind here sounds, similar. If he listens closely, there is a loneliness in it as it blows through the branches and rattles the bones of the forest. It keeps Tarian company as he walks through the trails, as he winds around the trunks and weaves towards what he thinks is a clearing. The early morning sun gilts him as he emerges through the treeline, coming to the Meadow that he knew he'd eventually find. With the sun rising to the east, it blinds him and makes the stallion scowl as he comes to a halt.

    Damn.

    It etches across his otherwise pale features and Tarian turns his head sharply to the left, trying to escape the blinding effect of the sunrise.

    TARIAN

    Image by Daughter of East


    @[Altissima] have a starter
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    #2
    It’s been years since Altissima has been home, years since she’s walked the familiar trails of this place. She’s not really sure why she’s come back - it’s been a few days now and she just isn’t too sure what’s tying her here anymore. There are family members, of course, but she isn’t sure she would know her siblings from any other stranger that she passes.

    One thing she think Beqanna does best than anyone else are sunrises, though, and the clear day dawning around her almost feels worth it on its own.

    Her owl companion is off napping away the break of day and the pale mare is on her own. She stands still, wings retracted so that more of her pale blue skin is exposed. Altissima isn’t sure if that really makes a difference as far as absorbing the sunlight goes, but it’s a habit now. A ritual.

    Her eyes are a deep indigo, enriched with her happiness and peace, as they focus on the rising sun. The light plays around her and makes her glow just a little as she saves it, stores it, quite literally for a rainy day.

    Indigo mingles with purple as someone moves nearby, interrupting her peace, and then they are a burning pink when he suddenly turns away from the light. She shouts something wordless in annoyance and surprise as she hurries to move out of his way, managing to avoid contact. The glow around her drops and there’s only a slight shimmering in her silver hair as she flicks her tail in aggravation, turning to face the winged stranger with a bite in her voice.

    “What, did the sun surprise you? It shows up every day you know.”

    altissima


    @[Tarian]
    [Image: willowsticker_by_space1993_ddeo27s_small.png]
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    #3



    He's never taken much notice of sunrises or sunsets so Tarian can honestly say that this day is starting like any other; the only difference is that he's lost and the silver stallion has never been the ambling sort. There has always been a purpose in his stride and a reason in his direction. Tarian is glad that the dawn has come - it certainly makes it easier to see where he's going - but the knowledge that he isn't familiar with the destination irritates him.

    It bristles beneath his lightly dappled skin.

    He can usually hide it beneath a mask of stoicism. (He's quite good at that - taking that lovely pale luster of his and turning himself something carved out of marble.)

    Tarian had known that he was facing east. He wasn't so much of a fledgling flyer to not know what direction he faced. The sun would be breaking over some vantage point and he had been preparing himself for that. This clearing, though, is unfamiliar and exposed how little he knew of the land that found himself wandering. (Wandering! Him! The warrior prince without a kingdom or a cause. Ironic.) Though the rising sun took command of his vision and made everything a dark flash of red, there is a brief moment that the color changes. A trick of the light? He isn't sure.

    Uncertain and annoyed, his scowl deepens. Tarian hides it as he drops his proud head, a partially flared left-wing used as a shield between him and the blinding sun. The buffer works well enough and reveals a blue-tinted mare when he looks up. His glacier-blue eyes flick up to the spots on her forehead and Tarian uses the silence to realize that they aren't a lingering effect of the assault on his vision.

    She sports those spots just as he claims his wings. What a shame that she didn't have any of her own.

    The silver pegasus stallion looks almost thoughtful until he speaks and the edges of his gray mouth purse into a firm line. "Oh?" he retorts, "thank you for that illuminating ray of information."

    Snorting softly (he has some decorum) as he lifts his head, he asks: "do you show up here every morning as well or was today just my luck?"

    TARIAN

    Image by Daughter of East


    @[Altissima] bare with me, i'm still figuring him out
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    #4
    Those pink eyes roll at his illuminating jest, though just the smallest hint of a smile causes them to shift to a wary, warm purple as most of her initial anger fades into a steady thrum of simple annoyance. Her gaze shifts to the sun, to the source of life and her power, and she wonders if maybe she should have just not said anything. She’s out of practice with interacting with others and is currently wondering if maybe her years of isolation were for the better.

    She’s distracted by these thoughts and her attention gets pulled back to the silver pegasus when he asks a question. Altissima frowns slightly, trying to figure out whether or not he is making fun of her or… well she can’t figure out what motive might behind that question.

    So she answers it honestly.

    “Just the last couple of mornings, so I guess you’re just lucky.” She smiles, though it’s hardly sweet. “I, however, can’t say the same.” There’s a frost to it that matches her colouration and she moves a little to the side, wondering if she can excuse herself from this conversation now - she doesn’t enjoy the feeling of being lost. Not when someone else is there to witness it, and her footing feels loose in the world of conversations.
    altissima


    @[Tarian]
    [Image: willowsticker_by_space1993_ddeo27s_small.png]
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    #5

    Though much is taken, much abides; and though we are not now that strength
    which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are.

    Her coat isn’t just simply white. As his eyes adjust better to the daylight (and to her), Tarian can find himself studying her. It isn’t a trick of the eye. She shimmers a kind of blue-haloed light that becomes more apparent when she shifts her gaze. He’s so intent on watching the way that the breaking day changes her few-spotted pelt that he almost misses the way her eyes shift from pink to indigo.

    Almost.

    Tarian decides against remarking on it. For now. The frost has just left her voice and he has no (deliberate) intention of inviting it back again.

    He can find merit in her answer and hears it for what it is: honest. Just the last couple of mornings, she says. The smile she gives him full of ice and it sets him a little on edge. "I’m very rarely lucky,” Tarian says, not quite clipping the words but he struggles to keep them away from the ledge he stands on. It's a struggle for him not to exacerbate their conversation. Lack of sleep, an unknown land, foolishly blinding himself; like this hours-old dawn, Tarian's temper is short.

    The stallion feels his jaw tense and then he sighs, deciding not to let his temper get the better of him (again) when he addresses her again.

    "If you don’t feel like calling me Lucky, you could try Tarian.”


    TARIAN






    @[Altissima]
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    #6
    It's intriInstead of the typical ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you’ Altissima replies in a smooth, icy voice - though there’s a soft spark of amusement in her eyes that cuts through the frost. “I’ll be sure to let you know which I prefer to call you once I give it all due consideration.”

    And then after a moment of consideration, she speaks again. “I’m Altissima.” She does not give the nickname she used as a child - Tissy is a bright-eyed filly going on adventures with her pastel-coloured friends. A girl with a family and without concerns.

    And this is precisely when her conversation skills begin to falter. She can feel it and she begins to panic - even though she does not actually care whether they continue to talk or not, there’s a pesky instinct that drives her to continue. As if somehow introductions have made this official and something she cannot edge her way out of like she had wanted to do just a few short moments ago. So she asks the first thing that comes to her mind no matter how completely and utterly lame it is.

    “What did you mean, that you're very rarely lucky?” It's almost annoying how she's actually curious about that off-handed comment. What series of misfortunes had led him here to the meadow on the same morning as her? Not wanting to overdo it on the pleasantries, though, she adds with a bit of mischief. "Or do you just have a long-standing habit of walking into other horses?"

    altissima


    @[Tarian]
    [Image: willowsticker_by_space1993_ddeo27s_small.png]
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    #7

    "As you wish," replies an equally smooth Tarian. He considers her quietly, lifting his head for a better look at the spotted woman. The silver stallion tries to fight it but a smile twitches at the corner of his dark mouth, the only hint of the laughter that might have otherwise come between them. "Take all the time you need."

    He eyes her again when she says her name and his brow furrows slightly. (Tarian isn't about to repeat the word.) While it is unusual, there is something... about the way it flows. He'd butcher it, he knows, with his soldier's tongue. He'd look for a shorter and more efficient way to say it. There would be nothing of the graceful rising and falling that Altissima had bestowed upon it.

    Better to leave the girl and her name with their eloquence.

    "My twin was the one with all the luck," Tarian says with a tight smile. "My brother had the charm and manners and good fortune." It had always bothered him that Liam had left them to explore the world. He had spread his wings (black as pitch as his were bright) and ventured off to worlds unknown, shaking off the sense of duty and responsibility that Tarian had so eagerly shackled himself with. He's brutally honest with Altissima when he answers, "If mine hadn't run out, I wouldn't be here."

    Tarian had been the once-Heir. He had known that he would grow up to be like his grandsire, Valerio, and great-grandsire, Ichiro. He would grow up to be like those Guardians of hold who had protected and defended and his story would be another illustrious chapter in a history that spanned across entire volumes. He had felt it in his blood. He had known he would be something great.

    And then Paraiso had vanished.
    And then he became the displaced Heir.
    And then the almost-exiled son.
    And then the almost-lover of Orani.
    And then (over the last few years) a soldier of Liridon.

    And now? Now, he stands here with @[Altissima] in a land that he doesn't know and he feels aimless. It makes his hooves eager to move and there is something restless in the way that he angles his shoulder, as if preparing to take step towards, away, somewhere, anywhere. He's perhaps too abrupt with his movement, something brittle in the way he smiles. He almost asks if she is afraid that misfortune might be contagious. Like his fate might catch flame to her own and burn it all away.

    Was. Almost. Not quite.
    Words that have all described his past.

    He sighs and the smile falls behind something more stoic. "Would you consider yourself lucky?"

    Though much is taken, much abides; and though we are not now that strength
    which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are.

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    #8
    Despite herself, she’s a little intrigued by the rather cryptic way in which he speaks about his lack of luck. She opts not to tell him that he has plenty of charm, so she cannot imagine what his twin must be like - but neither does she tell him that it’s not hard to imagine someone else having more manners than he does.

    It’s a small act of mercy, and she thinks it must mean she’s kind that she manages to hold her tongue for once.

    She’s still debating whether or not she is curious enough about his past to bite at the bate and just ask him a question when he asks her one. It’s hardly a happy question but for a moment her eyes warm again to violet with mirth at the prospect and a small smile plays at her spotted features. “Absolutely not.”

    There is no elaboration but she thinks of her dead mother, missing and absentee father, scores of siblings gone unknown and the feeling of being absolutely adrift in a place seemingly so full of opportunities.

    “I don’t think this is a lucky land. Or maybe someone else has used it all up.” She thinks of laughing Lala and the happiness that the pink girl had shone with - and Altissima wonders if she ever had a chance at being that carefree.

    “If you’re out of luck, you’ll fit right in.”


    altissima


    @[Tarian]
    [Image: willowsticker_by_space1993_ddeo27s_small.png]
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    #9

    He watches her and Tarian catches himself grinning. It’s uncharacteristic for the silver pegasus. He has always considered him gruff and terse where it came to strangers. It had always been Liam who had smiled and charmed; it had been Tarian who had stood silent and scowled.

    But there is no Liam here and Tarian certainly isn't scowling now.

    Tarian catches the way that the light plays across her eyes and it intrigues him. He also notices the smile that quirks at the edge of her spotted features and the nomad wonders if things might be changing, if all those endless nights under the watchful stars and listening to his Uncle have changed him in some way.

    "Oh?" he quips back, curious about the way that she speaks of the luck being used up and gone. His handsome expression has warmed since their initial interaction but she does have him wondering. "Why would you say that the luck is gone? From what I could tell from up there,” and he motions by pointing one pale wing to the sky above, "the grass still grows and the rivers still run. I saw no signs of famine or drought.”

    Drawing it back in, he takes a step closer to Altissima. "I wouldn’t mind fitting in," he ruefully says about being luckless with the lot of them, "but I also wouldn’t mind turning my luck around.”

    The winged stallion is curious about this Beqanna but he finds himself becoming curious about his current companion too. As he watches @[Altissima], Tarian isn't entirely sure how she would feel to have the conversation directed back towards her. His blue eyes flick up and notice that the sun has risen significantly and that he has passed the better part of the morning with the spotted mare. He finds that he doesn't mind and more surprisingly, that the time has flown by so fast.

    "You said that you had been coming out here the last couple of mornings," he finally decides on saying. "Is that because of your lack of luck or something else?"

    Though much is taken, much abides; and though we are not now that strength
    which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are.

    image credit to footybandit
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    #10
    She doesn’t respond to his question about the luck being gone from Beqanna, doesn’t tell this near-stranger about the things that make her feel untethered on this continent. How they could have years upon years with no natural disasters and still the inhabitants of these lands would find a way to tear themselves and the earth beneath their hooves apart. Instead she just remarks in a cool, quiet voice. “A land is not just rivers and grass.”

    She blinks her violet eyes at him when he steps closer and they grow pink with annoyance and wariness but she remains where she is and they cool back down again.

    She’s not sure what to make of him even though Altissima only feels her initial aggravation as a distant echo. And there’s a smile to be found with his next question and she raises her eyes to the now-risen sun and feels the light of it play across her skin. She allows a few small beams to dance out from her around her head before blinking and cutting them off with a brighter smile. “I can absorb light, and the meadow at dawn is the ideal spot.” She looks up again but does not explain in words - she has none to explain her love of the vastness of the sky and the colours that still play across it this morning. “And then when the night is dark, I can keep the sun by my side.”

    It’s an odd thing to say, she thinks, but even when her eyes come back down to meet his again she doesn't allow herself to feel any sort of embarrassment. Not when someone else would witness it.


    altissima


    @[Tarian]
    [Image: willowsticker_by_space1993_ddeo27s_small.png]
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