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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]  i loved and i loved, and i lost you; insane
    #1
    Sorren does his best to keep her home, but even he is no match for her stubbornness. He stays awake with her for hours, curled around her in the dark even after she’s slipped away into a world of dreams, and she thanks him by disappearing from his embrace when she wakes and finds him finally sleeping. She knows how much he hates it, and the guilt is like a pyre in her skeletal chest, but she feels stagnated by his endless hovering.

    So she disappears into a night she cannot appreciate, because it is a night she’s always known. This dark is no different than the one she finds behind her eyelids except that there is no halo of light to guide her. Perhaps that is why she does not fear this broken world anymore, because the changes are subtle and she’s grown complacent in the absence of any threat.

    The monsters seem to ignore her, seem to think bare bones are not worth the taking. That doesn’t mean she isn’t careful, but it is hard to stay so when nothing ever happens. There is a comfort in unchanging sameness, even when it comes hand in hand with the end of the world.

    It becomes easy to trust that which always wears the same face.

    She slips through the trees, feeling for them with the glowing bones of her bare nose. There is no path she follows, no purpose or direction. And it never matters how far she goes because Sorren will always find her, always take her safely back home again without a word to match the furious quiet of him. He never scolds her though, and she thinks it is for the way she curls gladly into him when he does come.

    There is a sound to her left, something soft and subtle and she hesitates where she stands, tipping her sightless bone face towards it as though she has ever been able to see anything. As though she can see now. It likely lends her an appearance of being unafraid, but it is only the fear aura she draws up around her that makes her feel any kind of bold at all. “Hello?” She asks, and her voice is as fragile as the delicate bones glowing like stardust. “Is someone there?”

    splendora

    how can i put it down into words,
    when it's almost too much for my soul alone




    @[insane]
    Reply
    #2

    He is not entirely certain how long he had slept. He had left a world consumed by their personal wars and petty foibles only to waken in one consumed by darkness. Perhaps the gods had finally grown tired of their petty squabbles. Or perhaps they had merely fallen victim to the vagaries of the universe. Whatever the case may be, Hurricane finds himself not only awakened, but in a deeper sense renewed.

    The vitality that had been fading before he had slipped into slumber has, at long last, returned. There is vigor now where before there had only been a tumbling fall into weary bitterness, a renewed sense of self where once he had felt lost and forgotten, a relic of ancient days.

    He may remain both ancient and a relic, but he is one with renewed purpose.

    In the end however, leopards do not truly change their spots. His memories are too great to allow himself to truly believe in the fallacies of renewed youth. Even if they had not, his first encounter with an orange-eyed beast had ensured he knew without doubt this is not the world he had once belonged to. He doubted it ever would be again.

    But with eternity still stretching before him, he has no choice but to carve his way through this new existence. He has watched Beqanna rise and fall through the eons, and never had it truly remained the same. What he sees even now would undoubtedly one day shift and change further, all while he remained the same, undying and unchanging.

    He had long ago accepted this, but even he, as it had turned out, had not been immune to uncertainty.

    For all that the world has changed, the forest remains at least passingly familiar. It had been new once, not so long ago in Hurricane’s life, but now it grows old in this world, those memories lost except to those like the pale pegasus. Upon waking, he had taken it upon himself to clear a small space for himself, skills honed long ago on the battlefield serving him to keep them at bay as much as his ability to disappear from sight.

    But when the new intruder comes, it quickly becomes clear that it does not matter if he can be seen or not. He had been prepared for a shadowy creature, but it is immediately evident that this creature is not that. The skeletal figure moves with surprising grace through the trees, ivory bone awash in a strange golden glow.

    Hurricane shifts instinctively, preparing himself for whatever it may try to throw at him when a soft, feminine voice emanates from where lips might once have been. As she tilts her sightless skull in an attempt to locate him, Hurricane silently considers whether or not she still constitutes a threat. But in the end, the fragility shrouding her convinces him she is not, no matter how strange she might look.

    “Yes,” he replies after a lengthy silence, his soft voice gruff with disuse. His wings settle from their half unfurled position, the whisper of feathers a hush in the otherwise still darkness. He continues then, because underneath it all he is still uncertain, still distrusting. “Are you with the shadow beasts?”

    quiet now, you're gonna wake the beast

    hide your soul out of his reach

    Hurricane



    @[splendora]
    Reply
    #3
    There is too much silence that follows her question, enough silence that the seconds change shape and become minutes, become hours. She is glad, for once, that she is blind. That she cannot see the look on the faces of those who stumble across her. She knows it must be gruesome, especially in the world Sorren has described to her, where there everything is always and forever dark.

    That is a bad thing, apparently, though it’s all she’s ever known.
    Still, she does not think it would feel very nice to watch horror unfold across a beautiful, watching face.

    She takes a breath, or at least it feels like she does, but there are no lungs to fill, no lips to part - and she nearly says something more but a new voice interrupts her. It is male and gruff, but she smiles inside herself because she knows that the monsters cannot speak, so he is not that. His wings settle, and she lifts her little face a little more as though she is searching for them, but it is the sound that warms her in its familiarity.

    Many of her family have them. Her father and several siblings do. She has them, but they are tied to her sparrow form, something she has not tried to shift to in the dark. It’s not as though bone wings can fly. But his next question wounds her, and she inhales a little sharp, a little soft, a little hurt. “No.” Does it scare him to hear he speak from lips that don’t exist, from a face that is entirely bare bone and empty.

    “My name is Splendora. I live with my family in Tephra, they aren’t beasts either. Though, father does get awfully grumpy sometimes.” She smiles again, though the bone is only still. She takes a step, neither closer nor further away, but the movement settles her nerves. “I’m sorry if I scared you, I can’t really see where I’m going.” Her voice is quiet again, the color of gray skies and rain, of forgotten things.

    splendora

    how can i put it down into words,
    when it's almost too much for my soul alone




    @[Hurricane]
    @[The Monsters] please mess with her immortality and fear aura
    Reply
    #4

    Though the outline of her skeletal frame is nothing like the many forms he had seen the beasts take, he had to wonder if perhaps they were finding new ways to surprise him yet. But he should have known better. Though he is no expert, the monsters has met have never spoken before. And as something wounded curls through her soft voice, he realizes then that he had made a mistake.

    It’s foolish to regret the question, even if it had never been his intention to hurt her. Yet, he does.

    She seems to forgive him easily enough however, despite the volumes his own silence speaks. It is unsettling to learn that such visages are commonplace, at least in her experience. Hurricane had been born into a much simpler world. One where wings and horns were among the strangest things a horse might see. Now they evolve before his very eyes, becoming something he doesn’t entirely recognize.

    Her words are meant to set him at ease, leading him to realize rather belatedly that his own silence may have led her to mistakenly believe him far more alarmed than he truly was. “You did not scare me,” he finally responds, his voice now softer despite the gruffness. And as he stares at her, understanding dawns, led by the words she had spoken. She does not know of the many faces the beasts can wear because she cannot see them. As she tilts her head in a way that speaks so plainly of sightlessness, he knows himself a fool for not seeing it sooner. “The beasts wear many faces - even those of friends. One can never be too safe.” He pauses before adding, “I am Hurricane.”

    As his own cautious distrust fades, he grows curious. Curious as to why she might be wandering the forest alone. She spoke of family, yet she left the safety of their embrace for the cold and dangerous unknown of these woods. He moves closer then, a frown pulling at his lips as his dark eyes fix on her skeletal form. “If you have family, why are you here and not with them?”

    quiet now, you're gonna wake the beast

    hide your soul out of his reach

    Hurricane



    @[splendora]
    @[The Monsters] please have at his invisibility
    Reply
    #5
    @[splendora] your immortality and fear aura have mutated into frozen heart and fear immunity.

    @[Hurricane] your invisibility has mutated into cracked appearance.
    Reply
    #6
    He tells her that she didn’t scare him, and it’s good that she has no lips, no face, no smile for him to see because she is not sure she believes him. “You were very quiet.” She points out, and she wonders if the smile is in the sound of her voice and the tilt of her delicate skeletal head when she searches the dark for him. “I can understand it if you were, I am quite terrifying.” His wings rustle again, and she fixes that empty gaze toward the sound of it, bobbing her head gently.

    “It’s nice to meet you, Hurricane.” But she wonders if he will feel the same way, and some of the warmth inside her dims a little. Except there is something softer in the sound of his voice, something she imagines he made gentle just for her. “The monsters sound awful.” She admits, and when her feet move again it is to draw her closer to this new friend, close enough that a whisper is enough sound to share between them. But she misjudges the distance, and for a brief moment the bone of her face bumps into the soft warmth of his body. “Oh!” She says, momentarily breathless, shrinking back one single polite step. “I didn’t see you there!” And she wonders if he will cringe away from the soft sound of her smiling laughter, so amused by her own joke.

    But then he asks about her family, and guilt is a storm lashing inside her chest. “I like to wander,” she says, and it suddenly feels like her chest is full of moss and ice, like there is something breaking inside her, something already broken, “my brother hates it, he would always have me stay by his side. But I want to know the world, I want to find new things. I want to experience everything that I cannot see, because otherwise it feels like I’m missing out.” She pauses, and the sound is a sigh that hangs between them, a cloud she cannot see. “I make Sorren describe everything to me, but I know it must bore him. So instead I come out here to discover it for myself. Like you.” Another pause, and her delicate bone face lifts as though she is searching for him. “Will you tell me what you look like?” A whisper.

    splendora

    how can i put it down into words,
    when it's almost too much for my soul alone




    @[Hurricane]
    Reply
    #7

    Her declaration very nearly brings a smile to his lips, muted only by the fact that she truly does believe herself terrifying. Though Hurricane could admit to having never seen anyone quite like her, he has never found bones particularly terror inspiring. When one lived as long as he, one would have to strive very very hard not to encounter them at some time or another. While it is true they do not typically walk or talk, the only spectre that lingers around bones of any sort is that of death. And that is a spectre Hurricane has never found frightening.

    “I am often quiet,” he replies in a low tone. He says nothing of her claim however. He recognizes now that she would not believe him even if he denied it.

    As she moves closer, he watches her with a curiosity he has rarely allowed himself to feel. There is a strange sort of safety in knowing that she cannot see his face. In knowing that he does not need to hide his expressions from her. Still, it is an old habit, and even that knowledge cannot quite chase the stony guise from his features.

    When it becomes clear she cannot tell just how close she has drawn, his wing lifts slightly, feathers whispering as he uses it to gently steady her when her nose bumps his shoulder. She swiftly retreats a step, self-deprecating words already issuing from the space her lips once would have been. When he responds, the faintest trace of return humor colors his voice. “I am also particularly good at not being seen.”

    It is impossible to read whatever emotions linger beneath the bones where an absent heart once rested. He must admit it is a particularly effective way to mask oneself, if a bit frustrating for the onlooker. He suspects however, that she does not truly wish to hide her emotions as he does. Indeed, if her explanation is any indication, she fairly wears them on her sleeve, even without a face.

    He had nearly forgotten what it was like to be so young though. To his jaded eyes, the world had little new to offer. But he had not forgotten what it was to have purpose. To protect something that held meaning to him. He has never had a family like hers (the one experience he has yet to have), but he had brothers once. Not of blood, but still family just the same. And a part of him still yearns for it. A part of him, he realizes, he is trying to reflect on her.

    “I understand,” he replies slowly, gaze shifting to scan their surroundings. “You sometimes forget the wonders the world holds when you’ve lived as long as I.”

    Her question takes him slightly aback however. His dark gaze snaps to her as he considers her question, faintly baffled. It has been a very long time since he bothered to look at his own reflection, though he imagines it has not changed very much. Still, he cannot help but wonder if she would be disappointed. In comparison to the myriad of fantastical appearances that now exist, he is rather bland.

    He’s not quite certain why he feels compelled to answer her as he does, but still he tries. “I am… white, mostly. A few gray dapples. Dark eyes.” He pauses then, eyes scanning the bones of her face, as though he could glean something from them. “Is that what you wish to know?”

    quiet now, you're gonna wake the beast

    hide your soul out of his reach

    Hurricane



    @[splendora]
    @[The Monsters] can you pretty please mess with his cracked appearance?
    Reply
    #8
    @[Hurricane] your cracked appearance mutates into living lightning rod
    Reply




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