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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]  you were born to run and run until you find your fire
    suffocate the fire  i started--------------------
    right when it kindles

    She hadn’t left the Gates all winter, avoiding the bitter cold of the season that held the rest of Beqanna in its grasp. Now that spring has arrived, she is more inclined to venture farther away from her new home.

    A cool breeze pulls at the white-blonde hair of her spinal mane, twisting the strands around the curling ivory horns that sprout from either side of her head. They have finally stopped growing with each year, which Myrna has decided must mean that they are fully grown. That she is fully grown.

    It was something of an uncomfortable revelation.

    Some part of her had felt bold, and very grown-up, having struck out entirely on her own. But now? Now she has only done what everyone does when they grow up - find a place in the world, and settle down. She does feel settled in the Gates, more settled than she thought she’d ever feel anywhere but Hyaline. Settled enough to venture out, to see what might await her in the Meadow.

    Lifting her head, the palomino mare whinneys loudly, and the sound is a clear summons to the pale gold animal that immediately responds. Swooping across the bright spring grass on feathered wings that match the scruffy golden fur, Myrna’s companion comes to land just to her left.

    “Feather,” she says to the dog, who stares up at her with blue-grey eyes just like her own, “This is the Meadow. We’re here to see if there is any news about my family.” Though she could have spoken silently, and her Companion understood it just as well, she has always found it slightly uncomfortable to speak telepathically. (Some unconscious part of her shudders at the memory of her father). The smile on Myrna’s face doesn’t fade, adn she brushes affectionately at the top of the dog’s head.

    “Come on. Let’s go look around.”


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