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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]  that's how love goes
    #1

    Once broken out of seclusion she cannot return to it. From time to time she had considered how it would be if she over returned to society, in those daydreams, she would become a more reticent and introverted version of herself. It turns out she is incapable of being either of those things and immediately enjoys acquainting herself with the isle and its occupants. While Kensa is not certain that she will remain in Icicle Isle—she has never cared much for the cold—what she learns of the kingdoms tells her they are too changed for her to easily make another selection.

    Winter has Beqanna in its icy grip, and Kensa is very lucky not to be trapped on the isle by the frigid, tempestuous sea. A grey fog hangs over the dusky sea, blotting out the mainland so that Nerine and all beyond it are invisible. There are a dozen places she could go from here, but Kensa does not spend long considering her destination knowing that she could easily overthink it and end up teleporting herself right back to the isle’s interior and the heart-shaped lake. The liver chestnut sabino wades into the wintry caress of the waves and drops away into the northern sea.

    A creek in the meadow that struggles against the ice that tries to choke it into silence is the place she chooses to rematerialize. Water rolls across the golden rivers on her sides as she steps away from the creek and into the grass. It is warmer here than on the isle. Topaz eyes scan the meadow, but it is early still, and quiet. In another life, she’d met Roseen here, and that bay mare had been amusingly unnerved by a young Kensa’s overtures of friendship. Much later, another reluctant introduction here, in the murky shade of the trees, had precipitated her most irreversible mistake. 

    She recognized some time ago that she cannot escape herself.

    Exhaling, the fog of her breath curls skyward. Kensa looks away from the skeletal trees and their straining, bony fingers. The colors of aging sunrise paint the sky to the east, to the west of where she now stands waits the life she’s tried to forget and avoid but ultimately could never leave behind.

    Kensa
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