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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


    Keep the hearthfires burning // Yanhua
    #1



    Tornados from a butterfly's wing


    As luminous as the fungus that had begun to flush the fallen and dying trees of their home, a little black mare wandered through their midst. Every step pooled with a soft green light, only to fade as she moved on, a slow trail to follow if one was so inclined. Few were. Their home was a quiet one, most days. Peacable, even as rot cast eerie feelers beneath their unthinking feet. 

    Ama inhaled, feeling the cold air as it infiltrated her lungs. It was winter, and the chill that had been threatening for some weeks now had well and truly set in. Her coat had thickened in response, shaggy and dense enough to cover most of the crystalline nodes that bloomed across her skin. She was dark as the shadows she walked, and just as pensive. 

    Things were changing. Even before the Long Night that had been true, but now it felt like they were barreling towards a shift she couldn't begin to predict. That wasn't her talent, anyway. There might be others who could guess or even know where it all was headed, but she didn't know their names. She wasn't even sure she wanted to know. It was hard enough feeling everything. Every crack in her spouses' minds, every doubt and worry in her children's evolving lives. It was enough to know that much, and too much some days. 

    These days she spent much of her time alone, or close enough. The fox-like creature who had woken her on the beach that awful day lingered near always. An aid on her bad days, a friend on the good ones, she never was quite alone. Even if her family felt frayed at the edges and worn from within. 

    She could go, she mused. Beneath the towering sequoias, it felt so unlikely that such trees would ever let her go. Not impossible, though. The massive panels of her wings scraped against the rough tree bark as she moved, knowing she couldn't leave. Not while she was needed, and she was. Someone had to keep things together while her family drifted. While her husband battled something she couldn't name. 

    She had hoped that when the sun had returned they would all be able to go back to their lives as they'd been before. Foolish optimism, it seemed.

    ...Amarine


    @Yanhua
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