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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]  I know I need us more than I need me // any
    #1
    i know i need us more than i need me
    The stars dance above. Lost to us as we are to them; distant. Removed. Lying to me even as they cast a fervent shine from the pores of my wings, from the orbs tangled in my mane and tail. Telling stories with words we no longer understand.

    Slip. Soar. A layman's shooting star, brightening the sky with evermore hopelessness: that's me, flying above the midnight forest with half-closed eyes and parted lips, as though to taste the cold of this high-altitude wind could somehow give back what birth stole from me. "Iri," I whisper, the word a half-hearted prayer for her return. 

    I have prayed for a long time, now.

    Allowing my eyes to close, I tilt my head back and arch my wings forward until I swing over my shoulder; straightening my wings, I feel the wind bite at me harder, feel the sink in my gut that always comes when I descend like this. Closing my wings as the ground approaches far below, I tuck into a spiral, twisting and twisting and twisting, so much more like a shooting star now and yet separate in my entirety -- and as the details of the earth become clear, I consider.

    At the last moment, my wings unfurl. Like a forgotten inhale, I rise for a moment, almost frozen against the night's background; but then I fall, a gentle descent into the clearing I spotted above. My wings illuminate each border therein.

    I want to cry.

    Instead, I sing. The sound (an alto keen, as beautiful as the stars themselves, wordless yet following an improvised tune) fills the clearing just like the light; painful in its emptiness, its alonness.
    Indius



    Sad boy is looking for company and is not opposed to an existentially dreadful hook up, male or female. Also he has siren song so he is extra ~alluring~
    ""
    [Image: indi]
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    #2
    Moonlet is a wanderer by nature; by the very heart and soul of her. Or perhaps, because there is nothing better to do than point her nose in any direction and let her feet follow. That has always served her best from the moment she let go of her mother’s teat with fresh milk still dribbling down her mouth and began to wander off.

    At first it was just in ever widening circles, like ripples on a pond. Next, she grew bolder and stole off for hours at a time until her mother came calling. Then she just took off one day without so much as a goodbye because goodbyes are so final and she knew that she’d see her mother again some day. 

    She didn’t need precognition or magic to tell her that, the notion just lay deep in her heart. Tucked away safe, called on only when she needed a reminder to keep on going on. Those moments came rarely, even if she did feel the thorns of loneliness needle her like getting caught in a sticker-bush. 

    So she is off on adventures that promise to be grand in their own ways and might not be, but she’ll make the best of them regardless. Like now, how she weaves through the forest in awe of the trees that have grown so tall overhead. It must have taken them so long! Centuries, she guesses whenever she pauses to study one. 

    Sunlight and shadow chase one another beneath the gnarled boughs in a timeless dance. Sometimes, they twine together in sinuous streams that spin and shake and pass over her brown skin and black hair, highlighting the ordinariness that coats her. Moonlet just plods along, content and smiling and oh so oblivious to the sun beginning to set.

    She doesn’t take note of it until she realizes there is less light about and much more darkness abounds. The girl pauses for just a moment, not overly scared at being in the big bad forest all by herself but curious as to which direction she should go in now. Towards the faint smell of water or towards that faint shine of light that beckons from a distance?

    Moonlet opts for the faint shine in the distance. Even from afar, it reminds her of starlight - so far away and unreachable but oh so beautiful. She trots towards it, heedless of the twigs that snap underfoot and the mulch that crackles at her passing. The girl was never much of a quiet thing, always like a summer storm blowing about the land.

    Just like she blew into the clearing just as he started to sing. It called to the loneliness inside her own heart and made it worm it’s way up into her throat on a sob that she choked back, spluttering out a single word - “Beautiful.” Moonlet fell under his spell faster than she could piece together the starlight of his wings as the glow that led her there.

    With no mermaid’s scale or cat’s paw to ward off his magic, she fell and kept falling into the painful beauty of his song until she stood close enough to touch her nose to his without having to stretch forth her neck. She couldn’t quite bring herself to touch him in case her lips on his skin would stop the song, but the glimmer of tears surfaced in the depths of her brown eyes as she stared at him.

    @[Indius] ❤️
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    #3
    i know i need us more than i need me
    The sound of her summer storm's approach lends itself to the rhythm of my melody, her hooves the percussionists in tonight's opera. Though she approaches fast, I can't help but think of how slow one moves through this life, of how agonizing time can feel when the one you love resides in a place almost always unaccessible to you.

    I almost grimace (an expression most like a smile on my Arabic face) at the irony of my situation; a son raised by a dreamer, with a dreamlocked twin sister, whose dreams come shorter and shorter by the day. The dreammaker, the dreambound, and the dreamless.

    A tear trickles down the side of my face that the stranger cannot see as she breaks into the clearing like a gust of wind. My jaw would ache with the gnash of my teeth were it not for the aching keen of my song.

    Beautiful, she whispers, though I swear I hear her word more as a thought, a sentiment, than anything physical. To welcome her approach, I turn my head with care, setting my blue eye upon her as she appears to fall under my spell. Walking, falling, she seems to do both at once; the brown of her coat gleams a bluish-white beneath the glare of my wings. "Beautiful," I sing in return, the word a long, drawn-out note that verges on incomprehensibility, though I know that the little mare before me will know exactly what I sang.

    When my admirer finds herself frozen not inches away from me, I taper off my song with a gradual decline until the silence itself reminds us of the beauty of the disappeared notes. Against my sides, my wings rearrange, throwing light around the clearing in a disarming fashion; in this disarray, I reach out and place my mouth upon her.

    Lips to cheek, gliding up to her ear. A warm exhale placed there and an inhale as though to memorize her scent.

    "I'm Indius," I murmur, pulling my face away to gaze into the depths of her wide, starstruck brown eyes. "Tell me your name."
    Indius



    A Kristin pon? For me?? *big eyes* I am so happy
    ""

    @[Moonlet]
    [Image: indi]
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    #4
    She can barely see the grimace that passes for a smile on his dished face; so enraptured by starlight and his song. The melody tugs at things inside and moves them around in not so comfortable ways that cause the tears to keep rolling down her cheeks. She’d stop if she could but she hasn’t ever cried like this and there is something freeing in the release of so much pent up emotion.

    Moonlet hadn’t even realized there was so much of it. But she cried for him and his heart shattering beauty. She cried for all the things she desired and lacked, knowing she’d most likely never have them. In the end, she cried because she was compelled to do so and didn’t even know it as a compulsion but kept crying because it was all she could just then.

    His magic, unbeknownst to her, had opened a floodgate that she struggled to close. Most likely couldn’t close because of his magic. So she stood there within inches of touching her nose to his and wept because every nuance of her dripped and ached with the need to weep. So it kept shaking loose more emotions, most lost dreams and unrealized wants inside her.

    He echoes back to her, the word that she had said and even on the throes of the song-spell, she doesn’t believe it. Moonlet has never been and will never see herself as beautiful. She is plain as a stick amongst all the other sticks on the ground and she’s okay with that. That single utterance of his was almost enough to break the spell she was under because it was a truth strong enough to do so.

    But she still cried even as she shook her head at him in denial. It feels almost painful to weep and not believe at the same time, but his song tapers off and the silence comes sweeping back in on a grand flourish of ghost notes that still ring in her ears and moves through her brain. Somehow, his song has ingrained itself in the molecules of her being and reshaped Moonlet in a matter of minutes.

    Then, his mouth is upon her! Lips to cheek in what feels like a kiss but she’s only ever known her mother’s brief kisses and they don’t feel like this. So maybe it isn’t a kiss? No, it can’t be as the slow agonizing glide moves his lips from cheek to ear and breath blows warmly against her skin. She can hear him exhale and inhale as her one nose curves to touch him - any reachable part of him and she does the same, inhale and exhale.

    His question is more of a command but she obeys it, still starstruck, still spellbound. “I am Moonlet,” she murmurs even as his name ricochets through her like a familiar wind that has somehow gotten stuck inside her body and knocks against all her bones asking to be let out. It feels too big and wondrous to keep contained and so, she repeats it back to him in her small soft voice like a mouse’s creep, “Indius, so beautiful.” Because she cannot resist complimenting him again.

    @[Indius] yes a pon for you from me! <333
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    #5
    i know i need us more than i need me
    In the moments before she tells me her name, I tell myself that her tears come of their own volition. The newness of my siren song prevents me from understanding the full effects of its beautiful keen, feels as foreign to me as the sister I lost to the dreamscape. Foreign and familiar. Somewhere between a hug and a home invasion. A pain I recognize as pleasure the same way I recognize her tears as coming from her and not me. Externalized.

    I am Moonlet.

    I inhale to speak but pause at the sound of her doing the same. My head pulls back, my blue eye sinking to the curve of her parting lips before rising back to the brown of her eye, so like gold in the shine of my starlight.

    Indius, so beautiful.

    "If I am beautiful, then take me as I am," I reply, stuck somewhere between the present moment I share with the stranger before me and the one I wish to dream of with a sister whose existence to me fades night by night. "It must be enough to be beautiful, some nights." I murmur, my voice catching on the last word as though the pain of my song affects me now, too. I inhale, pause, and wonder how long the spell will last, if it has worked at all.

    "I know it is enough for me tonight," I say at last, gazing with an apparent intention into Moonlet's saucer-wide eyes, wondering if she will accept me the way I hope to be accepted.

    I don't bother asking myself about the truth of my words nor the truth of my wandering eye and lost, excited, and dampened mind. The meaning of truth escaped me long ago when I realized I would live this life as a jaded, jagged second-half, the realized and dreamless half of a shared ovum.

    "But please," I say, breaking the tension just a touch as I step back as though to allow the woman some space. "Please. Tell me why you cry," I whisper. "Moonlet." I try out her name almost as an afterthought, running my tongue over the taste of its syllables as though to discern as much about her as I can in one little word.
    Indius


    ""

    @[Moonlet] I hope this is good??? I don't know what it is??? Boys are hard to write.
    [Image: indi]
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    #6
    She cried for the heartbreaking look of him; that kind of loneliness like something was missing that she inherently recognized and the sheer fact that he was beautiful to behold. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know about the missing sister or that he couldn’t know about how painful her ordinariness was to her, worn like a cheap disguise but oh so obvious. Then she cried for silly things like wanting to have that love of a lifetime and just wanting to be back at her mother’s side, milk smeared across her lips, eyes bright and the little fluff of a tail flicking with not a care in the world.

    Her weeping might have begun as a compulsory reaction to his song but it had become something more. The song died off but her tears hadn’t ceased, or even slowed. Whatever part of her that she had held back from letting so much like this go, had opened like a door she couldn’t shut. She had never wept like this, only shed a tear or two when scraping a knee during a fall or something ridiculous like that was more gut reaction than emotional compromise. 

    But she knew she had been compromised in a matter of moments, didn’t know the why or the how or if he even cared, but his song and the look of him had made her come undone - stripped raw and laid bare in a way that Moonlet didn’t like but took in stride, as she does with all things.

    Then like that - in an eye blink - her tears slow to a trickle as she looks at him, really looks at him. It seems the dregs of song still resonate inside her but not enough to keep her under his allure and she sees him as he is: bluish-black like a bruise, pale splotches like snow, small blue spots on his nose and mismatched eyes that she finally looks into. She wants to say I see you, and you’re still breathtaking. But it goes unsaid so she puts the full weight of her appreciation into her own gaze. 

    It goes beyond just being nice to look at, or enchanting because he’s magical in a manner that she’ll never be. She also pours a little of her own loneliness into her eyes; let’s it peek out to show him that he’s not the only one though why each of them is like that is for quite different reasons. Just as easily, she is pulled back into the throes of song-spell by the catch in his voice. “It must be, I’m sure. Why not at least be beautiful if you cannot be powerful or kind, or even cruel. Make of it what you will if that is all you’ve got,” she answers back, subsiding back into the stupor of siren-call even though the tears don’t start back up.

    She doesn’t know how to take him, when his beauty is so painfully apparent but also not important because it feels like he is asking to be seen as more than that or not so much as that. Whatever she thinks it is that he wants, it is what she’ll try to give him. Spell or not, Moonlet has been blessed enough to meet him and now, she wants so badly to see if her mouth can touch on the starlight drifting up from where he ought to have feathery wings. It is enough to make her move into him until their bodies are touching but no more than hips and shoulders, as her mouth toys with the flesh just before his withers. 

    His request goes unanswered as she steps into him again, not wanting the space that he has given her. The door was opened by song and tears, and now other things come tumbling out of it that she hadn’t thought about before. Like how good it feels to be next to someone taller and thicker than she is, more fleshy and real as if she was the figment - the thing made of starlight. Her lips are so much closer to the starlight now, but she presses a sigh into his neck like a kiss. It might have been chaste and it might not have been, she didn’t know the difference, too new to all of this and what was stirred up inside her.

    Another sigh and she pulls away from him entirely to pace the breadth of the clearing as she provides him with what he wants, an answer. “I cried for you and me, for this night and everything about it, for what’s to come still and what’s gone before. I cried for my mother and for the way that I am not like either parent, and so very ordinary compared to everyone else I’ve ever met. Even you. I don’t glow, or fly, or shift my shape. I can’t read minds or look into someone else’s.”

    A breath, a pause.

    “I probably never will either and I cried for that too. I cried for always being alone and choosing that, because I know I do. I cried too, for realizing that I want what’s in the fairytales but there’s a reason they’re not real and just stories told to sleepy foals.” and finally, she trails off as her head hangs away from him and her eyes go far away, looking somewhere inside because she held back other things that clamored to be said but she won’t say them. His song still worked but she just went away inside herself where he couldn’t follow as the tears renewed their slow trickle down her cheeks.

    @[Indius] I’m sorry, did you say you wanted a novel? ❤️❤️❤️
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    #7
    i know i need us more than i need me
    It must be, I'm sure. Why not at least be beautiful if you cannot be powerful or kind, or even cruel. Make of it what you will if that is all you've got.

    "I --" but the words the might follow die in my throat, destined for the one I love whom I cannot access. I do not fight their verdict. For her mouth comes upon me then, lips to skin, the hot spread of her breath a reminder of the warmth I feared long gone. Artificial, my mind hisses. As artificial as the rest, I reply, the whites of my eyes showing as their color rolls into my skull, near delirium claiming me at the feather-light weight of her touch.

    "I --" but this time the silence comes by way of Moonlet's own voice, chorded in regular notes but bearing the secretive allure of one undone by the world. I listen to her poeticize the secretion of her tears with attentive ears, though my eyes remain closed. Better to imagine and envision the words she says to me in the fantastic and untouchable darkness of my mind than to see their plainness in the dark of a night soon to turn to day.

    I cry for realizing that I want what's in the fairytales but there's a reason they're not real and just stories told to sleepy foals.

    My eyes flash open at this statement, as parallel to the running thoughts in my head as any could be in that moment. Yet as I turn to look upon this woman who speaks as though she could read my mind despite her admittance of the opposite, she retreats; behind walls, barriers, protective devices built up in the fantastic darkness of her ownmost inner mind. For this instant I forget the barriers that exist between Moonlet and my dear Iridian, watch them dissolve into one and the same in the single, stomach-sinking moment when I reach. Lunge. Dive to save her from the depths of herself the way I wish I could save myself; head under throat, a song's cry bleeding from between my lips.

    More parts of me come to life now than I ever remember before. Or perhaps, parts of myself come alive that have never before.

    Where our skin meets -- and it meets in many, many places as I hold her, drag her, beg her to me -- crackles with the intensity of any dying star.

    "I want you, Moonlet.

    Let that be fairytale enough for us, tonight."
    Indius



    I wrote this VERY FAST and it's A MONTH LATE I am so sorry

    @[Moonlet]
    [Image: indi]
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