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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]  pull up the ladder when the flood comes
    The snow has been falling since mid-morning. He has watched it from the protection of a woodsy copse, a preferred winter shelter that he is reluctant to leave. The wind rattles the leaves that still cling to the tops of brittle winter branches, and sends a gust of chilly air against the stallion. He shivers, even with the protection of a thick dappled winter coat, and huffs a cloud of warm breath into the air.

    Last night the moon remained behind the clouds, casting no reflection in the dark waters Ruhr stood beside. He had stayed awake throughout the night regardless, hopeful even for the briefest of visions, but dawn had come, and with it he had felt the ether of his divination begin to slip away. His power was strongest at night, he has learned, and when the moon is at its fullest.

    Every vision he has seen since his arrival in the Chamber has shown him some variant of the same future, and so he continues to remain in the pine forest, and in the kingdom that lays claim to it.

    The snow stops falling just before midday, the clouds carried away by the last of the wind to reveal a brilliantly cloudless blue sky. Ruhr looks up at it with his matching Stratosian eyes, spotting the half-moon far to the east. He watches it, just for a moment, then steps out into the sun. The stiff limp in his right foreleg does not deter him from his movement toward the river, the old injury has been with him most of his life, but he does frown at the feel of cold snow.

    The accumulation of precipitation is most definitely his least favorite part of life on the ground. At least it is not mud, he reminds himself as he takes a drink of cool water. He’d rather be cold than dirty.

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