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  • Beqanna


    Assailant -- Year 226


    "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]  join the land of the living

    all things are poisons

    for there is nothing without poisonous qualities.

    Iris has done a lot of keeping to herself in her younger years. She spent hours and days talking with the dead and practicing with poisons, and those hours and days turned into months and years. Not that Iris particularly cared. She did not lack for conversation, for the dead were heard by so few they almost always wanted to talk. Though Iris did miss Rosebay, as much as Iris was capable of missing anyone. Still, they had shared a womb for quite some time, and it was strange for so much time to pass without her other half. But in reality, Iris was her mother's daughter in certain ways, and she did not follow the trend.

    That said, she was not unaware of what had been happening in Beqanna. She knew of the two new lands that had ripped apart her own home (not that Iris was very emotionally attached to her home), of the disturbances now that shook Beqanna to its core. It would not - could not - survive what had been done to it. Curiosity, or the rather interesting threat of destruction, bring her out of her shell and into the forest. For what exactly, she does not know, but it feels like perhaps it is time for her to join the land of the living. The dead still chitter away in her ear, but today she slips through the forest looking for someone with an actual heartbeat. Her black coat blends into the shadows of the forest well, and she is little more than a shadow herself except for the white star on her forehead and her amber eyes.

    She looked a little like a hunter after its prey, though she sought no prey today, no unsuspecting horse nibbling on grass to practice her poison manipulation with. She probably ought to try a friendlier demeanor, though when you raise yourself and fancy yourself a ghost, you don't necessarily learn manners, let alone what it means to look friendly.

    it is only the dose that matters


    photo by cottonbro

    open to any!

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