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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 taste the bitterness [Reave; Any]
    #1
    Dark wings bring dark tidings, some might say. But on this crisp autumn day, they merely bore upon them a stranger soaring far above the northern lands. A harbinger of something not yet put to words. A plan not yet in motion. Knowledge is power, after all. And he needed more.

    For hours he had surged overhead after setting out from the far more familiar confines of the "common lands," letting the chill wind carry him ever onward as his molten gaze skimmed the ground below, devouring it mile-by-mile while he committed every detail of the unfolding scenery to memory. And yet still it was not enough, for there are some things one can only learn from others as opposed to mere observation.

    So it was that the midnight pegasus found his arcing, aerial path bringing him closer and closer to the tumultuous crash of the stormy sea down below as the waves raged against the cliffside. A wind tinged with the heady scents of salt and sand accompanied him as he went, sending the tangled tendrils of his mane and tail to whipping against his scarred pelt, lashing against him with every beat of his wings.

    The polite thing to do would have been to circle about while still airborne, hunting for the lord -- or lady -- of this land before touching down. But Cassiell was not always polite. So he landed, hooves of tarnished bronze digging harshly into the sandy beach as he did so. A fleeting mark upon the earth which would be erased as soon as high tide came in. Feathered appendages tucking themselves against the expanse of his powerful torso, the stallion then set off at an unhurried pace as he forged just a bit deeper into this beachside domain, his ears flickering this way and that all the while. His skull lifted, nostrils flaring as he scented at the wind, hunting for signs of life. For others.

    Mounting a nearby cliff, his hooves striking against granite with each step, the brute then brought his great frame to a halt in favor of adopting a fairly nonchalant stance with his right hock cocked and his long tail swishing aimlessly from side-to-side. An intruder waiting for an audience, clearly, but one who posed little threat.

    For the moment.

    cassiell

    temperance is a virtue

    Dark Pegasus by Tatiana Yamshanova used with permission.



    @Reave
    Any others welcome to join.
    #2

    i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

    Reave has never been one to stand on social norms, to stand by the arbitrary lines carved through this continent by ancient hooves. If one keeps their secrets where another could so easily find them, they deserve what may follow when they are inevitably stumbled upon. What secrets the Guardian of Nerine keeps would never be found so easily.

    Or perhaps it’s simply that the territory under his guardianship is so difficult to sneak into without being noticed. The bare and craggy cliffs lining the northern peninsula are vast and exposed, leaving few places to hide (unless one wishes to become a permanent cave-dweller). The pounding of the tempestuous surf gives little respite to the rocky shores, and the moors above are exposed and windswept.

    If the dark pegasus had looked toward the thermals before he landed, he might have seen the large harpy eagle riding them. To the casual observer, he is little more than a raptor hunting the highlands of the north. To the land’s strange and barbaric guardian however, he is much, much more. A piece of his very soul, ripped away when he was shredded and consumed by monsters before being refashioned into the body of the large bird.

    They are forever bound together, the Guardian and his eagle.

    Rune had warned him of the stranger’s approach of course. So even as his hooves thud until the beach far below, Reave is mirroring his path from the south. Sweeping past the boggy lowlands, the armored stallion trails along the rising cliffs as he moves to intercept the newcomer, curiosity lighting the blue of his sharp gaze.

    To the unfamiliar eye, he would be an undoubtedly strange sight. He might have been handsome were it not for the ivory of bone rupturing his skin in a brutal fashion. As he had aged, the growth of the bone had slowed. He knows one day it would halt entirely as his body settles into it’s immortality, but for now blood still streaks the ragged edges where bone battles skin, softened only by the subtle glow emanating from the armor.

    Beneath the mask shrouding his features, Reave’s gaze is bright, a faint smile toying with the corners of his lips. When he speaks, his greeting is as irreverent as the slight tilt of his bone-plated head. “Bored of the trees already?”

    reave



    @Cassiell
    #3
    Patient though he was, Cassiell didn't think he'd have long to wait before his presence attracted someone's attention. And he was correct. Positioned there on the craggy cliffside, the midnight pegasus watched the approach of the other stallion with all the interest of one absentmindedly observing a bit of driftwood breezing by atop a foamy wave. But for all that his facade portrayed a clear disinterest in the other, there was no denying it: this fellow's appearance was peculiar to say the least. Keen golden eyes took in the sight of that bone plating amidst a series of languid sweeps before finally settling back upon the newcomer's countenance.

    In comparison, Cassiell himself was rather boring in the looks department -- a mere creature fashioned from the fine lines of a Thoroughbred crossed with some manner of far heavier draft, the blood of which had no doubt contributed to his excessive height. The only thing of interest about his form was the plethora of scars crisscrossing that inky pelt of his. And his wings. But who within Beqanna had never seen a pegasus?

    Catching sight of the other stallion's faint smile, his own velvet lips quirked into a fleeting sort of smirk of their own. "I do enjoy a change of scenery every now and again," came his rumbling reply to that irreverent greeting, an idle flick of his tail against his hocks serving as a bit of punctuation to those words. Ears swiveling, the brute clearly split his attention between that of the stud before him and the windswept terrain all around. It was second nature to always be on alert, always listening, always watching. But his molten gaze was for this other alone when he further posed in his dark baritone: "Might I have the pleasure of speaking with the lord of this land, then? I was so hoping to become acquainted."

    cassiell

    temperance is a virtue

    Dark Pegasus by Tatiana Yamshanova used with permission.



    @Reave
    #4

    i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

    If ever there was a bane to Reave’s existence, it is boredom. Of course, it is never appearance that determines one’s interest. It often happens that the most fascinating creatures are wrapped in the most mundane countenances, and the northern Guardian knows this better than most.

    He had lucked out when he had inherited a body to match his mind (though most would likely not call inheriting gore and pain luck). His abilities however? Those had come straight from his grandmother, a woman who had been born into an appearance so mundane it had garnered no attention whatsoever. And yet, she had shaped so much of this land that her name still lives on in infamy despite her years long absence.

    Reave may be loath to follow anything that might resemble destiny, but even he could not completely ignore the blood that courses in his veins. Not when it is spread through so much of Beqanna now.

    So the bone-hewn stallion does not judge this stranger by the common inkiness of a pelt littered by scars or the equally common wings at his sides. No, he judges him by the memories that tangle in those scars, weighed down by their emotions. He judges him by the past he can see glinting in fire-bright eyes. He judges him by the practiced disinterest the stranger now regards him with.

    As the winged stallion replies with banalities, the grin teasing the edge’s of Reave’s lips widens, the gleam in his blue eyes deepening. Despite the leisurely countenance, the other stallion is clearly on high alert. Reave does not divert his attention however. At least, not outwardly. No, Reave’s eyes and ears circle far above them, keeping watch far better than he could here on the ground. He is not still however, his legs as restless as his mind even as he watches the stranger with a keen intensity.

    “This land has no Lord,” Reave replies, his voice edged with light amusement. “Only a Guardian.” He smiles, his features decidedly impish the glow cast by his bones. “But luckily for you, you do have the pleasure. I am Reave.”

    reave



    @Cassiell




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