"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
A horse sized lion, black with pearl splashes across his face and grand onyx mane – standing out in the golden meadow like an ink blotch on wheat-colored paper. Not just an enormous feline, but one with large wings to match. An odd sight if this weren’t Beqanna.... but this IS Beqanna and here the very land is alive, buzzing with magic – its shadows dance with faeries and demonic mystery, side by side with the light of magic and angelic good. Seeing a lounging lion with big feathery wings and a speckled coat that resembles a starry night is certainly not that out of place in the chaos…or, what was once chaos anyway…The land and it's inhabitants seem to be in hibernation.
Chemdog has seen many cycles start and end and restart again here – the wheel of time, the tree of life, always turning and always growing. He was born here on this cracked tumultuous soil a disgusting amount of years ago, too many to count, and quiet times come and go just like the plagues, wars, invasions, disasters and everything else that the Gods decide. Right now is the quietest he has seen these grassy hills in a very long time.
He sleeps the time away, enjoying the reprieve from politics, violence, women, children, whatever other bothersome things; for the time being. His forms change with his moods, but the winged lion has been a favorite, becoming a sort of guardian to the mostly empty Meadow and its wandering wildlife. This is his favorite hill, the highest and in the center of the vast grasses. He’s hard to miss and has eye-shot of the Meadow’s most common entrances.
CHEMDOG to the window, to the wall
blehh plase don't judge me based on this D:
its been a while
02-21-2025, 03:31 PM (This post was last modified: 02-24-2025, 02:52 PM by Topsail.)
A relit cigarette never tastes the same, and thats all I'll preach about rekindling old flames
The sun brings forth so much, and yet, she feels nothing.
She doesn't feel the warmth of its rays deep down in her ancient bones, doesn't rejoice in the joy that a new sunrise brings. It is simply another thing that is, the marking of another day and nothing more. Once, maybe, she had turned an eager face towards the sky. Back when she had been young and naive, a child born in that peaceful place they had called Heavens Gates.
The sunlight had never welcomed her, though. Not the way the moonlight did. It had tried to tame her, but wolves were not so easily tamed.
The moonlight spoke to those darker places in her soul, that wild and feral thing curled deep inside of her. Maybe it was a fault in her bloodline, or maybe the land itself had thrust her into the darkness. She hadn't resisted though, didn't even try. She leaned into it, cat like, purring at the silver and shadows. She had even become queen of it, once upon a time. It was her home in a way that Heaven had never been. The darkness belonged to her, and she to it.
But the sunlight had woken her, and she greeted it with a scowl and a huff. It would do no good to try and avoid it. She blinked quickly, her blue eyes scanning over the meadow before landing on a creature that was decidedly NOT horse. Horse sized, perhaps, but otherwise not. Fear had left her years ago; it was hard to forget a time when she was the fiercest thing in the forest. But she does approach slowly, her wings tucked tightly to her sides. "I didn't know the meadow had a guardian. Impressive." she says, her voice tapping not at his ears but into his mind.
with love, topsail
ooc- I'm just getting back into the swing, so sorry for the scatter brained post and the no html, lol!
