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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    None -- Year 218

    QOTY

    "He watches her, noticing first the way she moves beneath moonlight, and he is reminded of a time before magic ran rampant as it does now. How back then there were some that simply seemed to be magic without actually having it, the kind that could capture your attention and keep it." --Eadoin, written by Colby


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    [open]  I walk these lines of blasphemy every day || Any
    #1
    I am Heaven sent, don't you dare forget
    There is no forgetting the circumstances of his birth or his treatment in the Den. However, the bad memories begin to fade when Aela brings him to the Pampas. It is everything she had promised it to be, beautiful rolling hills dotted with vibrant colors where the flowers cluster and spread. That had been in the summer, when everything was still in full-bloom. He had learned quickly to avoid the weird red-petaled ones that the Prince seemed to enjoy in his strange way, not having any desire to partake in seeing things that other’s could not. He already succeeded in spades at that. The same with the golden nectar that seemed to pop up wherever the glittering stallion appeared, the sweetness of its smell making his stomach harden to lead.

    When he had first arrived he had been gifted with a small field of flowers for himself, close to the tall rocky cliffs of the coast. It was intended to be tinder for his fire practice but he found that he liked to admire the beauty of tall lupins and sunflowers and so he only began to raze it to the ground when the seasons had begin to change, when the petals began to wither and droop, when they were dying anyways and he was just putting them out of their misery.

    And so he practiced. Growing a large flower of fire out of a fading dhalia. Creating whips of flames that snap the stem of a sunflower in half. There had been a field mouse once that he had trapped in a small square of fire, the flames rising till they nearly reached the sky. He had been proud of this accomplishment but the squeaks of fear from the rodent had made him nauseous and he had quickly released it from its blazing prison with a sinking feeling in his gut as he watched it scamper off. He could see the wisdom in Aela’s teachings, of needing to be prepared and defend oneself from the cruelty of the world around him. But he didn’t like scaring that mouse. He hadn’t wanted to hurt it or scare it.

    And he can’t help but feel like despite the knowledge that some terrible things could be good, he was at his roots… inherently bad, regardless of his attempts to not be. It had been instinct that had brought that fire to trap the mouse, instinct to tell a soul to use its invisible grasp to pinch a haunch for a laugh, instinct to have his transparent friends throw small rocks at the massive thing called Steve. The guilt always came afterwards but what if one day it came too late?

    He is musing in the ruins of his field, deep in thought on these things, as his solemn face surveys what little is left standing.
    fyr
    Reply
    #2
    sickle
    Sickle is often not herself when she wanders the Pampas, though she knows her colouring gives her away anyway when she does not care to change it. Today she is an iridescent blue panther, prowling along with her companion flying just off her shoulder. She likes this shape here - it is fierce but she’s also low enough that sometimes the wildflowers tickle her chin as she moves amongst them and she knows if she crouches down, she could disappear entirely.

    Which is what she feels like is happening anyway. Maybe this is why Malik never came back - he is trapped in Hyaline, slowly disappearing too.

    Her dark eyes scan the area, hoping like she always does to see a purple figure hurrying towards her. Instead, her attention catches on a patch of black earth nestled among the autumn wildflowers. The contrast between this darker area and the rest of the Pampas draws Sickle in, her curiosity easily overriding the churning emotions inside of her. She tilts her head as she approaches, realizing that this place had appeared darker because it had been burned.

    A colt stands there and it is not difficult for Sickle to mistake his solemn expression as the same confusion that is seeping through her, the same sense of loss. Because even though she does not want to be here, she cannot deny that this place is beautiful. And she keeps reminding herself to take some of these flowers with her when she leaves so she can show Asterope.

    Sickle remains as a panther when she stops right at the edge of where living plants meet desolation, her gaze sweeping the charred remains. As usual, the only words she can find are a question. “What happened?”


    Fyr
    Reply
    #3
    I am Heaven sent, don't you dare forget

    One minute there is only the soot on the wind and then there is a shimmering panther, a shade of blue he’s never seen before, at his side and surveying the wreckage with him. He flinches for a moment but doesn’t pull away, instead craning his neck to better look at her with his vibrant yellow gaze. “Me.” He finally says, remembering she had asked a question. He sighs and looks back at the crisp remains blowing around collective hooves and paws. “It seems pointless to destroy it all if I can’t bring it back.” He muses aloud as a flicker of flame dances across his lengthening mane and ripples across his backside in time with his rapid thoughts. This was much like the conundrum with the souls he connected with, that reasoning of their purpose still far beyond him.

    He finally turns to her, giving her his full attention as his eyes widen with a sudden dawning. “Oh, you’re the new girl aren’t you? My mom told me about you.” He says quietly, wondering what she looked like in her true skin. Aela had told him that the filly was trying to figure out her kind of "the good terrible" too and perhaps they could learn from each other. He wasn’t sure what he could learn from a shifter but he was curious to find out. The golden mare hadn’t steered him wrong yet.

    “I’m Fyr.” He says with an uncertain smile, shrugging his spotted shoulder as if to say he didn’t care how she pronounced it. The stirring of shadows mark the presence of his reach to the beyond and he can feel their icy touch as they try to make contact and come through. He resists the call for now, always uncertain of what reaction he might receive with a stranger. “Do you like it here so far?” He finally asks awkwardly, wondering what it would feel like to be stolen from the Pampas.
    fyr


    Sickle
    Reply
    #4
    sickle
    The panther’s head tilts to regard the damage, now with the knowledge that it had been the colt who did it. Before she can ask one of the many questions that rise up, he turns to look at her and calls her the new girl. Her feline ears twitch back in wariness at the recognition and she nods through her uncertainty. This change in subject raises more questions, but she only lets one out -  “Which one is your mom?” Though it’s unlikely she would know her, anyway. She’s only met one other mare here so far. And what were the chances his mom was the same golden-striped mare tha that had masqueraded as her cousin in order to lead her here?

    This has certainly been a strange adventure, and her heart twists again to think about how her mom has not yet come to get her.

    The presence of the other foal is a good distraction from this grief and concern, though, and since he already knows who she is she loosens her grip on the shape of the panther. Sickle reverts back to an iridescent blue yearling, shuffling her hooves in the ashy ground as she thinks about his question. Her mismatched eyes dart around, taking in the autumn-bright floral sea around this patch. Because she sees no reason to lie, when she looks back at Fyr she gives him the truth with a sad smile. “It’s okay I guess. But I miss my mom. And the trees. It’s very open here.”

    She thinks that’s why she likes exploring as something small, so the flowers feel more like trees, but this thought stays in her mind and she changes the subject instead - not wanting to linger on how much she misses her home and family. A light returns to her eyes as she regards the younger boy, and there's a warmth to the curiosity behind her question when she gestures to the charred patch. Can you bring it back?”


    Fyr
    Reply
    #5
    I am Heaven sent, don't you dare forget

    “Aela, the Seneschal.” He says with a faint smile, pride shining in the bright yellow of his eyes. “She adopted me.” He adds after a beat with a small shrug, letting his tawny gaze travel back to the ruined flowers at their hooves. He doesn’t say anything more about it, not wanting to recall the memories of his birth mother or that dark time he had spent in the Den. When he looks back at her, she is no longer a panther. Instead, a shimmering cobalt filly (a little older than himself) stands beside him and he gives her a grin and an appreciative nod at how easily she can slip from one skin to another. She was pretty, he notices, looking into her mismatched eyes. Not like the way his best friend was with her starlit pelt and that serious midnight gaze. But pretty nevertheless. 

    His grin fades slightly at her tone and sad smile and he pauses as he looks around them for a moment. The openness had never really bothered him much although he was more inclined to shadowy places himself. They always seemed to call to him and that underlying darkness that he had been born with, the thing that his dam had sensed (beyond his “creepy” powers) and been wary of. Was Sickle’s mother afraid of her too? Was that why she was here with them instead of wherever she had come from?  “What is your home like?” He asks her, curious and wondering if perhaps talking about it might make her a little less sad. Unaware that it might spark the opposite response.

    Taking a few steps further into the burnt field, he turns to her with a little gleam of mischief in his feral gaze. “No. But I can do this.” And before he can even blink, the entire razed field bursts into flame except for where he stands. He closes his eyes and the fire dies down until the space around him is filled with small flaming flowers that hit just above his hocks. A small imitation of what Firion had shown him with his shadows. Wild yellow eyes burst open as he feels himself losing his grip and the flowers sizzle out, leaving him alone amongst smoke that rises lazily to the sky. “Still working on that.” He says in his quiet way, glancing around him with a small frown. He was still learning to be proud of his accomplishments and fire runs down his back as he looks at her, uncertain if she would be impressed or not.

    fyr


    Sickle
    Reply
    #6
    Sickle can’t help but make a little bit of a face when Fyr mentions who his mom is. Aela had been the one who wore the face of her cousin, part of the group of those that had lured Sickle into the Pampas. To keep her safe. And she would rather be here than with her father, but she’d rather be with her own mom above it all. It doesn’t feel polite to tell someone that their mom is deceptive, though, so Sickle turns her frown down to the flowers in an attempt to hide it and makes no other remark on the matter.

    Despite the fact that she feels a twinge in her heart when Fyr asks about her home, it does the trick of bringing her smile back as she pictures the dense jungle and the rich scents that she stirred up when she ran through the undergrowth. “It’s great. It’s full of trees and there’s this big old volcano and there’s all these little rivers of fire that help keep it warm all year so it’s always green.” Or, at least, Sickle assumes that’s why it’s warm all the time - all she really knows is that it’s pretty fun to jump across these rivulets of lava. “And there’s like a million different animals too. It’s never silent.” Another point in its favour, she thought.

    Her curiosity spikes when she catches the gleam of mischief in Fyr’s gaze - it’s a look she recognizes. There’s no time to wonder what he’s up to because in the next moment, the burnt patch of earth bursts into flame except for around him. She startles backwards, dragon scales instinctively coat her skin and protect her from the flames (a trick that she is not even aware she can do until it happens). Those mismatched eyes of her are wide as she watches the fire change to a field of flaming flowers. “Wow!!” Her exclamation is filled with wonder and she just gets the courage to reach out to one of the blooms when they sizzle out. Though maybe a little disappointed, she is still impressed. She can change her own shape but she can’t make things. “That’s amazing!”
    SICKLE


    Fyr
    Reply
    #7
    I am Heaven sent, don't you dare forget

    His time in the den had taught him how to watch from afar when he was forced into isolation. He had learned how to observe in the hopes that it might teach him how to be more normal. The change in her expression at his prideful admission to who Aela was to him isn’t missed even when she turns that frown to the flowers. For a moment, that darkness inside him flares as flames dance behind his yellow eyes. Did she not like his mother? How could she not? Aela was strong, wise, and kind and anyone who said otherwise would have to answer to him. He has half a mind to set Sickle’s mane on fire until she tells him the reason behind her frown but then he remembers that she is alone here, without her own family. He knows only a little of her history, mostly that her father was not very nice. It makes him pause, smothers the flames in his eyes, and he decides that maybe she is just sad or jealous. Yes, that seems right. Of course she must be envious that he has a mother like Aela. Of course she must be upset that her own is not here. So he lets it go and moves on.

    It is easy to forget his moment of anger when she speaks of home, what it means to her. It helps that she is smiling and no longer frowning too. “A volcano?” He exclaims, no longer upset with her and now fascinated with the landscape she conjures in the telling of Tephra, the images she paints into his mind. “Do you think I can visit you when you go back? Will you show me the volcano and the river of fire?” He asks her genuinely, excitement at the possibilities flickering over his pale face. With a source of flame to pull from, he wonders if a volcano could make him stronger. Maybe that would help him in being terribly powerful the way his mother had told him he could be.

    When he steps into the blackened field and brings it back to life through flame, her reaction is exactly what he had hoped for. The flicker of uncertainty that runs along his spine disappears as he grins at her, pleased. He steps from the ashes and moves closer to her, distracted by the way she shines like a crow pulled to glittering objects. His inflamed flowers had reflected off her coat and he sees now the scales covering her skin. His approval is evident when his muzzle reaches for one on her shoulder and boldly brushes against it (feeling quite confident now that she had reacted so well) before his bright yellow eyes meet her mismatched one. “Very cool.” He says to her, before inspecting her new look again. “Like the Prince’s, but different.”

    He pauses, looking at her with open curiosity. “Mom says you can shift into all sorts of things. Is that true?”

    fyr


    Sickle
    Reply
    #8
    Fyr’s interest in her home further brightens Sickle’s mood. She thought the volcano and all that was pretty cool so naturally it only feels right that he should too. And this future plan feels good - especially because it involves her being back in her home, with her mom if nothing else. And Fyr had said when she goes back, not if - it is obviously a certain thing that will definitely happen any day now. So she is quick to agree, her expression completely lit up and all memories of sadness banished for the moment into the back of her mind. “Yeah! That would be fun!”

    Although she is a little worried about catching on fire when Fyr draws closer and reaches out to touch her scaled shoulder, she doesn’t move away. The scales would protect her anyway, and he said they were very cool. She tries to remember if she’s seen the Prince wearing scales before but she’s distracted from lapsing into her thoughts by her new friend’s next question.

    Like the mention of her home, this is something else that brings a grin to the filly’s face. She is very proud of her ability to change, even though sometimes she can’t fully control it yet.

    “It is! Go on, name something. I bet I can change into it.” Sickle says with absolute confidence, despite being incredibly worried that Fyr’s imagination will be greater than her own and he’ll name something she hasn’t tried before. For the most part, her shifting could fill in the blanks if she had some vague idea of what something was - but there were bound to be tons of animals out there that she didn’t know.
    SICKLE


    Fyr
    Reply
    #9
    I am Heaven sent, don't you dare forget

    When she lights up, something real that warms her mismatched eyes and reminds him of the flames he can wield, it is infectious. He grins back at her as she agrees to his request and remarks it would be fun. It becomes even bigger when she says his mother was right and challenges him to name something that she can shift into. He wants to come up with something wild and crazy, something that nobody has ever seen before. “Ok… How about this…” He starts and begins to describe something from imagination, hoping to breathe it to life through her. It has antlers like the Elkear that rut in the Pampas during autumn, it has the glowing flowered shell of the Fluertles, and the body is the miniature of the entity known here as Steve.

    “Can you shift into that?” He questions her with his grin turning into something far more impish and that eagerness still shining in his feral gaze. That dark thing within him sits on his shoulder and wishes for her failure just as the goodness he fights for sits on the other side and anxiously hopes for her success. In his distraction, he is unaware of the connection to the otherworld that he leaves open and unguarded.

    fyr


    Sickle
    Reply
    #10
    When Sickle had suggested Fyr name something for her to change into - she was expecting just one animal. Like a deer or a dragon or a bumblebee. Something with a name. She thinks of the rhino she had turned into once when playing with her mom and she’s grinning as Fyr starts to reply to her.

    A soft laugh escapes her when he does not stop at just naming one thing, but rather goes so far beyond what she expected. He describes pieces of different animals and her mismatched eyes widen as she listens. Sickle has never tried to shift pieces of herself into different animals before, but she’s excited by the challenge and determined to at least hold it for a moment.

    Her excitement registers as colour shifting across her coat before she focuses. “Let’s find out!”

    She starts backwards, with what’s fresh in her mind. She’s only gotten a glimpse of Steve so she isn’t totally sure she gets that part right but she remembers him being kind of stocky and hairy and green so that’s what her body becomes (she had not gotten close enough to realize it was grass and not hair but hopefully this counts). Then she adds the shell, though since it is daylight out she does not glow.

    And then… “Uh wait, what else was it you said?” She asks with a laugh and her concentration slips and she flickers between a miniature, green mammoth with a shell and a dark blue filly. Her eyes remain the same, bright and delighted by this game - even if she cannot quite hold the shift for long.



    SICKLE


    Fyr
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