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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 am a mermaid that you dreamt // Any
    #1
    aquaria
    - THE TIDE IS HIGH, IT'S SINK OR SWIM -


    In the dark, it's harder to find my way. It's not often that I leave the islands by night, and never have I been without starlight or moonlight on the waves. All that exists now is eerie blackness, water and air and land undistinguished until I touch them. 

    The shape of the land and the way it moves the water is all that saves me from swimming into the endless unknown. There is the land, and though I've gone somewhat off course, my hooves scrape the sand eventually and I surge back on land with more than a little gratitude. 

    It was foolish to make this trip at all, but I need to know if there is some reason behind this eclipse that hasn't reached the islands yet. Any information at all. The dark is bad enough. Not knowing why is worse. So I stumble until the water no longer strokes my heels, until the sand crunching beneath my feet is dry. "Hello?" I holler into the dark. "Anyone there? Anyone!" 

    My voice echoes back, and then there's silence. As unusual as the darkness itself, the quiet is what gets to me. Makes me wonder if this is a slow torture, designed to strip us all of our senses one by one. It's an agonizing thought to be left alone with.

    - MY ONLY RIVAL IS WITHIN -
    #2
    it's a mystery to me
    we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
    Whether she is in the middle of the jungle or exposed on the beach, the darkness seems to press down around her. It feels like a heavy blanket, cascading around her shoulders and across the slope of her straight back. In fact, the night feels like it has seeped into her skin. She is wrapped in the shade of midnight, and part of her wonders if her ancestors had known about these overwhelming shadows and chosen the banner of darkness to protect her.

    Wishbone has only gold across the long bones of her face to serve as color, and this marking moves like a beacon through the shadows. She has found herself perpetually on-edge since the sun and moon collided to coat their world in darkness. Her comforts are found in the weaponized bones that lie deep in the soil and the routine she finds herself in — walking in an endless circle around the lines of Tephra’s border. It feels as if her prowling will keep away the haunted beings that prey on the land, despite the fact that she is only one mare against an unknown number of demons.

    The voice that echos through her jungle home makes Wishbone pause in her patrol, ears tipped upright with every muscle in her long body tense. There haven’t been many visitors since the darkness fell upon them, but this stranger sounds friendly enough. Yet Wishbone can remember her encounter with Mazikeen and one of the creatures; the beings she has come across so far have looked uncomfortably similar to their own kin.

    Hesitantly, Wishbone heads in the direction of the voice. It isn’t long before her hooves scatter black granules of sand from their homes, but she remains quiet as she approaches the stranger. Her magic glides against a smooth rib from a whale, one that lies beneath the surface of their beach. She doesn’t bring the bone to the surface just yet, but her body and mind are poised to defend herself if the need arises.

    “I’m here. Who are you?” Wishbone’s voice is calm, but it isn’t friendly. She peers through the darkness to make out the faint shape of the foreigner, nostrils quivering to gather an idea of who this stranger may be.
    credit to eliza of adoxography.

    @[Aquaria]
    #3
    aquaria
    - THE TIDE IS HIGH, IT'S SINK OR SWIM -

    Dripping with brine, Aquaria paused when the silence broke at last. A voice in the darkness, female and stern. Not a monster's voice. There was no helpful glowing waves to gather to her. No orbs of light to guide her. Just the voice, coming from somewhere ahead. 

    The pale mare stepped hesitantly forward, ears pricked and eyes aching with the strain of trying to see. "Aquaria, of Ischia," she answered with a clear voice. "We haven't gotten much news on the island. I'm here to see if there's anything we should know." No point in beating around the bush. Whoever this was, either they knew more than she did, or they might be able to put her in contact with someone who did. 

    Her hooves crunched strangely on the beach. It was so different from the fine sands of home. Coarse, crunchy, and she found herself idly wondering how the color compared. What else was she missing, without her sense of sight? She had caught herself several times now looking skyward. Searching out the unblinking eye that was the veiled sun moving across the sky. 

    They were all being watched, she felt, though she couldn't guess what the watcher was waiting for. Miracle or disaster, maybe. Or simply to see what they would do in the face of such utter disruption to the lives they'd been living. It was all speculation, of course. The sea mare shook her head at the strangeness of it all. There could be a reasonable explanation. It was dangerous to let her imagination spin her away with its endless "what ifs".

    - MY ONLY RIVAL IS WITHIN -

    @[Wishbone]
    #4
    it's a mystery to me
    we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
    Tephra had been different when Wishbone was born into it. The kingdom had been nestled in the southeastern region of Beqanna, rather than the northwestern corner it calls home now. The politics had been different as well; though Wishbone was too full of young life to comprehend her father’s diplomatic lessons fully, her mind had grasped enough for her to understand that things are different in this present-day Tephra.

    Thankfully, Wishbone knows enough to recognize that Ischia falls beneath the volcano’s watchful eye and Warden’s careful rule. She has been learning since she officially decided to call Tephra home once more, and her mind makes the connection between Aquaria and Ischia in a heartbeat. Wishbone had been grateful to hear that the islands were no longer ruled by Ivar, a genuine relief that was spurred when she realized how she would have had to interact with the kelpie if he did still live in Ischia.

    They would probably have needed a new leader in a matter of months — she thinks this with a smirk that is hidden by the darkness.

    Under the certainty that the unfamiliar voice belongs to someone peaceful, Wishbone comes closer. She stops just short of Aquaria, close enough where she can pick out the shape of her face but distanced enough that their noses don’t touch. “Aquaria,” she says, and this time her voice is warmer. “I’m Wishbone. We’re confused about the darkness as well.” It doesn’t feel comfortable to admit that they know very little about the seemingly-endless eclipse, but Wishbone has always been honest. “I haven’t heard anything from outside Tephra, and not many visitors are coming around anymore. I’m sure you’ve experienced the same.” It used to be how information traveled, hopping from land-to-land like a relaying game that stretched across miles.

    Wishbone frowns in the shadows, and her amber eyes attempt to find Aquaria’s. “How is Ischia faring? Is everyone safe?”
    credit to eliza of adoxography.


    @[Aquaria]
    #5
    aquaria
    - THE TIDE IS HIGH, IT'S SINK OR SWIM -

    For the seamare, home always had been Ischia and the sea. When she was stressed or worried or heartsick, the warm waters had never failed to sooth. Things were undeniably different now. With the moon and the sun locked in their torrid affair, the sea no longer moved in its predictable ways. The currents grabbed and tore when she least expected it, and the waves had grown reluctant to listen when she pulled at them herself. The waters themselves had grown confused in these dark days. Worse still, the once balmy lagoons of her tropical home were now cold and she could feel the life in them dying out like stars blinking from existence one by one. 

    Soon, it would not be one by one. Death would come in its hundreds and thousands, if the sun did not come back to warm them. To grow their food and thaw the ground. Her head spun momentarily as mortality stared back at her from the looming dark. That was why she had made this journey, wasn't it? To find answers, to seek help. To find some scrap of hope to cling to until the dawn returned. 

    It hurt, to hear that the mainlanders were no wiser about the eclipse than she had been on her island. So hope was a little further off than she'd realized. Her head dipped slightly, before remembering that she would not be well understood without speaking now. So many small adjustments to make... 

    "I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, Wishbone," she answered, voice rolling softly like waves under a full moon. There was a pause, and sure could feel the hesitation in it. There was not to be good news today, it seemed. A sharp exhale pushed past her lips. "You're not wrong," she confirmed, the muscles of her face tightening as she spoke. Tiercel had been the most recent guest, and his visit had been for many of the same reasons she had made her own journey today. 

    That, more than anything, had been a reality check for the scaled woman. Hospitality was her calling in life. Taking care of her herd, of the guests that traveled to Ischia when an escape from their real lives became necessary. Hard to justify a vacation though, when it felt like the world was well and truly ending. What was the point in travelling from one dark and gloomy location only to see more of the same, quite possibly with a higher risk of danger? 

    No point at all, and she could hardly blame others for staying at home. Never mind that she missed the conversation of strangers. Shifting her weight from one heel to the other, she shrugged absently. "Safe as I can make them. I've warned them to stay clear of the waters. The ocean has gone... tempermental, without the moon to guide her. I'm lucky to have made it here at all." She admitted, acknowledging the fear that made the pit of her stomach ache. It was awful, to be afraid of that which you love most of all. That she was dreading the return trip. So she turned her mind from it as long as she could, and looked instead for some sort of information to build on. 

    "How is Tephra, do you know?" She asked, peering into the dark, thinking that she was just maybe beginning to make out the outline of the landscape. Black on black, it was hard to know for sure. So easy for the eyes to be fooled when you wanted to see badly enough.

    - MY ONLY RIVAL IS WITHIN -

    @[Wishbone]
    #6
    it's a mystery to me
    we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
    The effects of the prolonged eclipse have soaked themselves into every inch of their lives. Svedka’s ghost follows her with every step she takes; when she sleeps, the ground cracks open beneath her brother’s feet, and his voice echos in her ears until she wakes. Wishbone sees the pattern of his sides in the darkest shadows, and she hears the sound of his laugh in the wings of the glowing birds. She knows Warden has felt the loss of their brother as well, and the lines of his solemn face have become even more stoic under the weight of grief.

    The darkness infects more than just Beqanna’s inhabitants — it has penetrated the ground, the sky, the plants, the ocean. Tephra has been wilting; though the volcano keeps them warm from the bitter cold, the plants still need sunlight to survive. The elephant ears’ broad leaves have withered, the tangled vines have become brittle, and most of the trees have lost their leaves. And though Wishbone has always loved the ocean, she has not strayed very far into its watery depths. She has noticed how the eclipse has affected the tides, making them rough and unreliable. The battle between sun and moon had pulled their oceans into a rhythm (a warrior’s song for the sun and moon), and now that the entities have resolved their differences, it has become chaotic.

    Even now, the northwestern sea laps at the beach at random. Wishbone’s gaze moves briefly in that direction, catching the sound of a rush of several waves flowing one right after the other. Her skin prickles at the thought of having to swim to Ischia among this strangeness, and she turns back to Aquaria with hospitality in her amber eyes. “You are always welcome to stay in Tephra as long as you’d like.” It must have been exhausting to cross the dangerous waters, and she is certain Aquaria would prefer to rest before venturing out again.

    Wishbone’s eyes follow the sea mare’s at her question. Their volcano, usually rising high above the horizon, seems as if it has been cut away from the sky. Darkness paints everything into irregular patterns of shadow and not-shadow (it almost couldn’t be called light). The glowing birds provide brief moments of relief, nesting among the trees or fluttering through the sky. A pair of them rise from the jungle and wind together across the sky, playing a game of chase that makes them seem like twin stars dancing in the night.

    “We’re doing okay.” It would be a lie to say they are doing better than okay, but neither are they suffering terribly. “The glowing birds provide light when they are close enough, and that has helped. But our resources are running out. I’m not sure how much longer we can handle this.” Beqanna struggles beneath the dark’s weight, and Wishbone is sure what she has seen in Tephra is occurring everywhere. “As far as I know, almost everyone has been unharmed. We… I —” her throat tightens, and she clears it roughly, feeling her chest clench against the memories and emotions “— my brother, Svedka, is gone somewhere. But that’s all I know of.”

    She refuses to say he is dead. Wishbone knows better — she’s experienced more than that — and her undying optimism will not admit that he is gone forever.
    credit to eliza of adoxography.


    @[Aquaria]
    #7

    I'll be almost to the ocean when you open your eyes

    Her mouth twists wryly at the invitation, wishing she could take it. The wrongness of the unbound ocean nagged at her with gut wrenching persistence. It was impossible to ignore, something she should have taken to heart when first the waters had betrayed her. She was too stubborn though. It had made more sense to suffer a while and return home with answers, than to sit at home and wonder. 

    She would have chosen differently had she known that she would find no answers. That the waters, or what hid within them, would not let her return to the shores of home. 

    Now though she simply shook her head in an exhausted way, knowing only that another long swim waited for her. "I appreciate the offer. In better days I'd take you up on it. But I'm feeling guilty enough for having left at all, you know? I'm sure they don't need me nearly as much as I think they do, but I won't believe it until I'm there again." The anxiety that never seemed far from the surface anymore brushed against her like little waves at her heels. 

    What if, it whispered. What if the monsters kill everyone while you're gone, and you return to an empty island? What if the darkness never lifts, and the island dies anyway? What more could you do, what else could you try? Will it matter, if there's no one left to blame you in the end? 

    Her throat tightened, thoughts reeling unkindly as she stood rooted to the sand. Okay. That was the best that could be said of any of them, wasn't it. They were okay, surviving, doing their best. How long was okay allowed to be okay, before it wasn't? The seamare nodded, unsure of what she was agreeing to. The concept of "okay", maybe. 

    "We have similar trick, though it only works on Ischia," she commented, watching as the bright birds went about their lives. Were they living things? They certainly behaved like it, even if she'd never heard of such creatures before. Her spheres of blue algae-light were a poorer light source, but were certainly better than nothing at all. 

    A heartbeat or two passed while Wishbone's stumbling last sentence hung like a physical thing between them. This did not seem to be the moment for saying she was sorry for the dark mare's loss, so she settled instead on "Lost things are meant to be found, I imagine. Can't be that different with lost brothers." If they wanted to be found, that was. Aquaria had personal experience with lost brothers that preferred things that way, but it also didn't seem to be the right moment to go into that. 

    She glanced over her shoulder at the water that was more heard than seen. Water that beckoned and threatened. "Thank you, for telling me what you know. I hope your brother doesn't keep you waiting long." She murmured, knowing if she didn't leave soon get courage would flag. Not knowing that she would be dragging herself back up this same shore in a matter of hours, bloody and weak. It was always easier to do what needed to be done when the end result was uncertain. 

    Aquaria



    @[Wishbone] 




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