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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]  putting roots in my dreamland
    #1
    It’s been dark for days.
    At least, she thinks it’s been days — time has little meaning when there is no sun or moon, and she has spent most of her time napping in order to adjust. A pile of yellow-glowing bones tangled with the bones of her siblings — usually the rest of the quads, though she doesn’t discriminate amongst the other twelve. She’ll snore in anyone’s ear.
    In her large family, it would be easy to get lost or feel neglected, but she never had. Her mother was warm and loving and her father loving too, in his own, quieter way. She’s seen her father cringe countless times as he and most of the children became skeletal every night, his silent apology for passing on his curse. Bea has never thought of it as a curse; instead, she feels glee in her body’s defiance, giddy in her oddities. 

    It is why she doesn’t think of how strange the sight of a glowing skeleton would be as she wanders her way out of Tephra and towards the Meadow. She is equally oblivious as to how embarrassed she should feel as she makes several attempts to fly — the lazy girl’s preferred method of transportation — on her bone-wings, a useless combination of flapping and jumping. Bea’s subtle glow helps her find her way through the deep darkness, following the distant noise of chatter until it becomes recognizable conversation.
    The almost-dead grass that would once tickle her belly is dull against her bone as she passes by the small clusters, unsure of where exactly to come to a stop. On her way, she manages to side-swipe a black horse who grunts his displeasure at her. “I’m so sorry!” she tosses back to him as she trots away briskly, hoping to avoid anymore uncomfortable encounters but knowing her chances were slim.
    bea
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    #2

    Nothing in this place seems to surprise him anymore, he can’t imagine being one of those old goats that have haunted Beqanna for millenia. He’s only been here for fifty or so and that’s quite enough for him to have seen some serious shit. For one, the land has swallowed itself, seized and changed about a thousand times before his eyes (slight exaggeration, but you can’t even trust your own eyes or memory here). So, when the darkness started to fall over the entire land, an unnatural pitch black swallowing the world, he met it with a tired groan. Of course, he thought to himself with detest, it’s been chill for entirely too long. No doubt.

    Naturally when monsters, he has gathered that that’s what we’re calling these heinous beasts, started to crawl through the portals of hell he became a little less casual about the whole thing. Now the instincts of being a pray animal bubble to the surface and start to weigh heavily on how he moves and what he does with himself. Hiding seems to be the best choice so far. He’s not physically in a cave, or under a pile of sticks, but he moves with caution and only between the common lands (forest, river and meadow). Compared to his typical traveler lifestyle, that is hiding.

    It’s been dark in the world long enough for some capable folk to make what little light they can. Lanterns flicker faintly hung in the trees, weakly doing what they can to help. Some rock formations are covered in candles casting what firelight glow they can manage in this strange darkness. It’s the only reason he’s decided to go for a long-needed walk. He follows the glowing orange luminescence and his nose, feeling through where he cannot see the ground in the murky shadow land he’s now encompassed in.

    Her voice, the soft and timid apology along with her pattering footfall across the ground as she retreats, it’s what draws him to her. With his keen senses its not hard for him to find his way around, but the glow of her exposed bone gives him a lighthouse to drift toward. The tall grass muffles his heavy steps, but they thud in the darkness enough to betray his approach, along with his heavy huffs as he smells the air moving off of her (through her). She is a skeleton, but does she smell? He wondered. He’s seen this bewitchment before, he’s familiar with it, or so he thinks, if he has identified it right. “Does it only happen at night?” his voice growls out of the shadows, but by now he’s close enough that his bone-white markings are aglow with her self-made light. He settles to stand at a polite distance, far enough to not be able to reach her if he wanted to steal a touch to her softly radiant bones.


    CHEMDOG
    to the window, to the wall



    @[bea] (:


    And also @The Monsters do what you will to my HEALING *winces*
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    #3
    @[Chemdog] your healing has mutated into soul summoning. You're welcome.
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