<![CDATA[Beqanna - Icicle Isle]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/ Fri, 24 Apr 2026 20:03:51 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[One for All [Leilan, Nashua, any]]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30931 Wed, 13 Jul 2022 01:15:27 +0000 Jesper]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30931 The fox-shifter has been keeping to himself. He prefers it that way. Less drama, less risk, and less trouble. Although, historically, trouble has a way of finding him. The gent finds himself mildly bewildered, albeit entirely grateful, that he has been left alone. The takeaway here is, alone. Alone is lonely. Something that the loquacious and social steed can only bear for so long.

Winter is a fierce and bitter time; but, here on the Isle, the season is exponentially more frigid and harsh. Jesper stands with his pointy black nose pressed into the wind. The blast that hits his silvery canine face does not pelt him with snow or, ice; however, it still stings. Standing just shy of eighteen inches, the male employs his fox-form to combat the bitterness. His ash hued fur is dense and comprised of many layers. It blankets his small-medium sized body with a greater surface area-to-volume ratio than his equine chassis.

Thus, Jesper stands facing the northerly gusts. His sensitive olfactories sift through the various scents until he isolates two that are familiar. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he recalls his past adventures with the dragon-esque knight, Leilan. He also detects the presence of the gold streaked chestnut, Nashua. A padded paw extends forward and, within a single breath, the fox makes his way towards the other males.

His stride is calm and steady as he does not travel in haste nor, have a purpose. His fur lines lobes face his targets and, his facade denotes a gentle demeanor. When his sky blue gaze lands upon the familiar sight of the coppery varnished brute, Jesper lifts his head and his bushy plumage. His step becomes slightly more peppy as the silver and gray canine draws near. He offers a smile to Leilan before speaking, "I hope I find you well, friend. I sense Nashua is nearby. Do you think he remembers me?"

]]> The fox-shifter has been keeping to himself. He prefers it that way. Less drama, less risk, and less trouble. Although, historically, trouble has a way of finding him. The gent finds himself mildly bewildered, albeit entirely grateful, that he has been left alone. The takeaway here is, alone. Alone is lonely. Something that the loquacious and social steed can only bear for so long.

Winter is a fierce and bitter time; but, here on the Isle, the season is exponentially more frigid and harsh. Jesper stands with his pointy black nose pressed into the wind. The blast that hits his silvery canine face does not pelt him with snow or, ice; however, it still stings. Standing just shy of eighteen inches, the male employs his fox-form to combat the bitterness. His ash hued fur is dense and comprised of many layers. It blankets his small-medium sized body with a greater surface area-to-volume ratio than his equine chassis.

Thus, Jesper stands facing the northerly gusts. His sensitive olfactories sift through the various scents until he isolates two that are familiar. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he recalls his past adventures with the dragon-esque knight, Leilan. He also detects the presence of the gold streaked chestnut, Nashua. A padded paw extends forward and, within a single breath, the fox makes his way towards the other males.

His stride is calm and steady as he does not travel in haste nor, have a purpose. His fur lines lobes face his targets and, his facade denotes a gentle demeanor. When his sky blue gaze lands upon the familiar sight of the coppery varnished brute, Jesper lifts his head and his bushy plumage. His step becomes slightly more peppy as the silver and gray canine draws near. He offers a smile to Leilan before speaking, "I hope I find you well, friend. I sense Nashua is nearby. Do you think he remembers me?"

]]> <![CDATA[Be our guest]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30853 Fri, 01 Apr 2022 22:24:22 +0000 Rezza]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30853
As they reach their destination, they begin to sing. Or at least, something akin to singing. The tune is not lovely and there’s some croaking involved, but the words are intelligible. You can almost forgive the frogs for being off key for the sheer fact that they can speak at all.

We invite you to our feast,
beneath the briny deep,
to celebrate new friends and new beginnings,
and to share a meal.

We bring with us a treat,
breath beneath the waves.
Take one or five,
there are plenty for all.

The frogs finish their song and stay put. Though their voices carry well, they know that their job is to deliver the message a few times before hopping home. In addition, they will wait for someone to collect the kelp package, for they are well trained frogs. Inside that package are many small, round plants that are clearly the “treat” for breathing underwater.

***

Everyone in Beqanna is cordially invited to a feast in Baltia for the duration of April. Throughout this month your character can breathe underwater and may visit the kingdom as much as they like. You may have individual threads or just participate in the main feast (coming soon). Have fun!]]>
As they reach their destination, they begin to sing. Or at least, something akin to singing. The tune is not lovely and there’s some croaking involved, but the words are intelligible. You can almost forgive the frogs for being off key for the sheer fact that they can speak at all.

We invite you to our feast,
beneath the briny deep,
to celebrate new friends and new beginnings,
and to share a meal.

We bring with us a treat,
breath beneath the waves.
Take one or five,
there are plenty for all.

The frogs finish their song and stay put. Though their voices carry well, they know that their job is to deliver the message a few times before hopping home. In addition, they will wait for someone to collect the kelp package, for they are well trained frogs. Inside that package are many small, round plants that are clearly the “treat” for breathing underwater.

***

Everyone in Beqanna is cordially invited to a feast in Baltia for the duration of April. Throughout this month your character can breathe underwater and may visit the kingdom as much as they like. You may have individual threads or just participate in the main feast (coming soon). Have fun!]]> <![CDATA[a sea gone black]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30841 Sun, 27 Mar 2022 23:12:31 +0000 Oceane]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30841

a little white light in a
sea gone black
≋

It's not immediately clear how she came to be where she is now. It may never be. She remembers the foreboding rumble, the tremors in the earth... the way that Sylva had cracked beneath their hooves as it began to succumb to the ocean waters sent to drown it.  She remembers the panic, and tries to push a similar feeling away now. There was the moment, heart-rending, that she had realized there was no helping Sylva, no helping Loess. She could only worry about herself, her family - oh, her family. Lillibet and Link had been nowhere to be found, and the Genie could only hope upon hope that the wishes she'd sent into the universe to keep them safe had been granted. She never did know how far her magical reach was.

But Ledger had been there, with her, beside her just as he always had been. A dependable protector. The keeper of her heart. And she had wished to save him as their home, her beloved South, had fallen into the sea.

The time between then and now does not feel real. Oceane does not know how much time has passed, how long she and Ledger have been gone, or what has become of Beqanna since the land had shook so voraciously. But she does know that she is cold. Freezing, even. And as she opens her bright eyes for the first time in who knows how long, she sees why.

Upon an ice floe she and Ledger rest. Oceane's opaline body rests on her side, pressed against the ice uncomfortably. She shivers, flicks an ear, attempts to raise herself from the unnatural boat they have somehow found themselves upon. Her palomino mate is beside her, and it's with immense gratefulness that tears well in her eyes. They'd survived. He had survived. It gives her hope for their children.

With a quiet nicker, the former Queen of Sylva rises from the ice shelf. A wind, calm but icy, buffets them with no clear heading and it's with a mixture of mild concern and relief that she gazes upon their surroundings. There is nothing much beyond the ocean, but they are alive. With a lavender muzzle, she reaches down to nudge at her lover before breaking the windswept silence.

“Ledger?” She nudges him gently against as the ice sways beneath them. “Ledger, wake up,” the request is mixed with warmth and urgency, and when he finally starts to stir she turns her gaze to the watery horizon that awaits them.

Perhaps another wish would carry them to shore.



@[Ledger]
—

n | r
]]>

a little white light in a
sea gone black
≋

It's not immediately clear how she came to be where she is now. It may never be. She remembers the foreboding rumble, the tremors in the earth... the way that Sylva had cracked beneath their hooves as it began to succumb to the ocean waters sent to drown it.  She remembers the panic, and tries to push a similar feeling away now. There was the moment, heart-rending, that she had realized there was no helping Sylva, no helping Loess. She could only worry about herself, her family - oh, her family. Lillibet and Link had been nowhere to be found, and the Genie could only hope upon hope that the wishes she'd sent into the universe to keep them safe had been granted. She never did know how far her magical reach was.

But Ledger had been there, with her, beside her just as he always had been. A dependable protector. The keeper of her heart. And she had wished to save him as their home, her beloved South, had fallen into the sea.

The time between then and now does not feel real. Oceane does not know how much time has passed, how long she and Ledger have been gone, or what has become of Beqanna since the land had shook so voraciously. But she does know that she is cold. Freezing, even. And as she opens her bright eyes for the first time in who knows how long, she sees why.

Upon an ice floe she and Ledger rest. Oceane's opaline body rests on her side, pressed against the ice uncomfortably. She shivers, flicks an ear, attempts to raise herself from the unnatural boat they have somehow found themselves upon. Her palomino mate is beside her, and it's with immense gratefulness that tears well in her eyes. They'd survived. He had survived. It gives her hope for their children.

With a quiet nicker, the former Queen of Sylva rises from the ice shelf. A wind, calm but icy, buffets them with no clear heading and it's with a mixture of mild concern and relief that she gazes upon their surroundings. There is nothing much beyond the ocean, but they are alive. With a lavender muzzle, she reaches down to nudge at her lover before breaking the windswept silence.

“Ledger?” She nudges him gently against as the ice sways beneath them. “Ledger, wake up,” the request is mixed with warmth and urgency, and when he finally starts to stir she turns her gaze to the watery horizon that awaits them.

Perhaps another wish would carry them to shore.



@[Ledger]
—

n | r
]]> <![CDATA[It's like I'm breathing again]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30806 Tue, 08 Mar 2022 04:44:39 +0000 Ciri]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30806

all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was

When she had originally come back to the Isle, frostbitten and skeletal, she had made it a point to avoid the others. If they were even still here, she didn’t really know. They hadn’t looked for her so she doesn’t look for them. Instead she had allowed that black cloud to storm in her war-torn chest, to fester and grow into an even bigger sickness. Yet Kestrell had managed, in the short exchange of terse words and irritation, to somehow get truly under her skin. His nonchalant suggestion of healing had first infuriated her. What did he know of anything?

Yet the phrase had clung to the back of her mind, never too far from sight. It looked a little like awareness. It spoke of forgiveness. It reminded her that maybe she might even deserve just a little bit of it. The word need trailing behind her like a ghostly pest when she would dream at night. What did it truly mean, to need someone? What had he meant by it or was it only meant to bother her, to get under her skin as an added irritation? It had worked, if that had been his intention.

Then she had found Amet.

Still blinded by her own tears, her chest heaving with the intensity of emotions, her silver eyes streaked by shooting stars… She flies like a wild thing to the cold safety of the Isle. She still trembles to recall the cold bite of being trapped in ice and still… Still this is all she has now. All she has ever had. There is nowhere else to go. And even though she is still so angry with him, it’s the striped pegasus she calls for. Despite the many fights between them, the tension caused by the Curse, she had regarded him as a brother once. A brother in arms, a brother of the North who had accepted her as part of their family. “NASHUA!" She cries out, her scars still leaking with ethereal light as she stumbles into the snow. Her wings flare unsteadily around her, stardust shimmering from her bloody stars.

Her voice is a shriek against the wind, calling his name as the star turned mortal shakes her head in agony. Ancient stories and memories refill the bookshelves that had once been empty. The weight of intensity that as a mortal she feels increasing ten-fold now that she had removed the sludge from her connection, now that the residue of the Curse had disappeared alongside the golden scaled man she had once loved.

The stallion that had betrayed her in the one way that would truly hurt her.

And then there was the child inside of her. The one she was aware of now.

She was overwhelmed. She was tired, terrified, lost.
Most of all she realized that she had been wrong, very wrong, when she had told Kestrell that she needed no-one.

Ciri was tired of dealing with this on her own. She couldn’t do it anymore. With that endless rage subsiding to something smaller in her chest, her heart brilliant and bright despite how bruised and torn it was, she could finally admit that she needed help.

-- Ciri

Image by Phil Botha


]]>

all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was

When she had originally come back to the Isle, frostbitten and skeletal, she had made it a point to avoid the others. If they were even still here, she didn’t really know. They hadn’t looked for her so she doesn’t look for them. Instead she had allowed that black cloud to storm in her war-torn chest, to fester and grow into an even bigger sickness. Yet Kestrell had managed, in the short exchange of terse words and irritation, to somehow get truly under her skin. His nonchalant suggestion of healing had first infuriated her. What did he know of anything?

Yet the phrase had clung to the back of her mind, never too far from sight. It looked a little like awareness. It spoke of forgiveness. It reminded her that maybe she might even deserve just a little bit of it. The word need trailing behind her like a ghostly pest when she would dream at night. What did it truly mean, to need someone? What had he meant by it or was it only meant to bother her, to get under her skin as an added irritation? It had worked, if that had been his intention.

Then she had found Amet.

Still blinded by her own tears, her chest heaving with the intensity of emotions, her silver eyes streaked by shooting stars… She flies like a wild thing to the cold safety of the Isle. She still trembles to recall the cold bite of being trapped in ice and still… Still this is all she has now. All she has ever had. There is nowhere else to go. And even though she is still so angry with him, it’s the striped pegasus she calls for. Despite the many fights between them, the tension caused by the Curse, she had regarded him as a brother once. A brother in arms, a brother of the North who had accepted her as part of their family. “NASHUA!" She cries out, her scars still leaking with ethereal light as she stumbles into the snow. Her wings flare unsteadily around her, stardust shimmering from her bloody stars.

Her voice is a shriek against the wind, calling his name as the star turned mortal shakes her head in agony. Ancient stories and memories refill the bookshelves that had once been empty. The weight of intensity that as a mortal she feels increasing ten-fold now that she had removed the sludge from her connection, now that the residue of the Curse had disappeared alongside the golden scaled man she had once loved.

The stallion that had betrayed her in the one way that would truly hurt her.

And then there was the child inside of her. The one she was aware of now.

She was overwhelmed. She was tired, terrified, lost.
Most of all she realized that she had been wrong, very wrong, when she had told Kestrell that she needed no-one.

Ciri was tired of dealing with this on her own. She couldn’t do it anymore. With that endless rage subsiding to something smaller in her chest, her heart brilliant and bright despite how bruised and torn it was, she could finally admit that she needed help.

-- Ciri

Image by Phil Botha


]]> <![CDATA[Be my virtue, cause I need you tonight]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30805 Tue, 08 Mar 2022 03:36:42 +0000 Ciri]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30805

all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was

In the days that came after her encounter with Amet, she had kept to the Isle. To the beach that reminded her of dragons, that instilled new feelings in her now that her reborn mind was having difficulty dealing with.

The emotions she was feeling, the release from the darkness... The acceptance she had finally found in herself, the grief and guilt of loss. Of what she had done. Part of her was glad that maybe he was truly hurting, finally feeling a fraction of what he had put her through. Part of her felt vindicated. After what he had done…. The betrayal. Thinking of it now makes her heart spasm with grief, stabbed in the back by him. By her. It slinks around her chest, this feeling of ichor that was similar to the oily slime that had once smeared her power. That had tainted her.

Other emotions rooted deep into her soul with an intensity she had never felt before. The guilt was weighing heavier then her vindication. She knew she would have to fix this, that despite what he had done… She couldn’t forgive him. She couldn’t forget. However, She remembers what it was like to be trapped in the darkness. That purgatory of nothingness. She knows she cannot leave him there. Her anger still remains, of course, but it wasn’t the storm it had once been. Some of that, at least, had been released when she had changed. And how she had changed.

The silver of her eyes still swirled but it was clear, now, the shooting stars that had always been there. Streaking and sparkling in her metallic iris’s with the intensity of the constant emotions she felt. The lives she had lived before. A star made mortal, a star that remembered exactly what and who she was. The many scars that line her body still leak their ethereal white light and she moves with a strange grace that she hadn’t carried before. Even the stars around her flicker with less agitation although they still stayed red, strangely.

Then there is also the other change. The one in her body, the gentle swell of her stomach. The realization at what the gift that had been whispered in a dream actually was. The reality of it was something she was still having a hard time wrapping her head around. More so than what she had done and what she now was. Different emotions swirl in the depths of her starlit gaze when she considers the weight in her belly, what was happening. She was going to be a mother again, a second chance. It excited her, terrified her, made her sad, made her want to sing with joy. She was wary of course, knowing the darkness that had been inside of her. A Dark Star and a Dark God, she worried of course. What might that mean for the child growing inside of her?

Ciri had finally managed to find some light at the end of the tunnel but it seemed she might never escape the full weight of trauma that continued to stalk her path. She wasn’t sure how to clear it entirely, if she even could. With her wings wrapped protectively over the swell in her sides, she gazes calmly out into choppy winter waters.

Of the offensively charming stallion she had met in the Meadow, the one whose words had stuck with her long enough to set her down this new path, she doesn’t think of at all. Not once, like when she had recalled all her memories as a star. Or when she had gone to the Mountain looking for answers. Or even now, waiting for the approaching night when she can release the starlight in her soul.

"What if I need you. I need no-one."

Regret, perhaps that was another emotion that was slowly taking residence. It swirls thoughtfully in a silver sea of stars.

-- Ciri

Image by Phil Botha


]]>

all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was

In the days that came after her encounter with Amet, she had kept to the Isle. To the beach that reminded her of dragons, that instilled new feelings in her now that her reborn mind was having difficulty dealing with.

The emotions she was feeling, the release from the darkness... The acceptance she had finally found in herself, the grief and guilt of loss. Of what she had done. Part of her was glad that maybe he was truly hurting, finally feeling a fraction of what he had put her through. Part of her felt vindicated. After what he had done…. The betrayal. Thinking of it now makes her heart spasm with grief, stabbed in the back by him. By her. It slinks around her chest, this feeling of ichor that was similar to the oily slime that had once smeared her power. That had tainted her.

Other emotions rooted deep into her soul with an intensity she had never felt before. The guilt was weighing heavier then her vindication. She knew she would have to fix this, that despite what he had done… She couldn’t forgive him. She couldn’t forget. However, She remembers what it was like to be trapped in the darkness. That purgatory of nothingness. She knows she cannot leave him there. Her anger still remains, of course, but it wasn’t the storm it had once been. Some of that, at least, had been released when she had changed. And how she had changed.

The silver of her eyes still swirled but it was clear, now, the shooting stars that had always been there. Streaking and sparkling in her metallic iris’s with the intensity of the constant emotions she felt. The lives she had lived before. A star made mortal, a star that remembered exactly what and who she was. The many scars that line her body still leak their ethereal white light and she moves with a strange grace that she hadn’t carried before. Even the stars around her flicker with less agitation although they still stayed red, strangely.

Then there is also the other change. The one in her body, the gentle swell of her stomach. The realization at what the gift that had been whispered in a dream actually was. The reality of it was something she was still having a hard time wrapping her head around. More so than what she had done and what she now was. Different emotions swirl in the depths of her starlit gaze when she considers the weight in her belly, what was happening. She was going to be a mother again, a second chance. It excited her, terrified her, made her sad, made her want to sing with joy. She was wary of course, knowing the darkness that had been inside of her. A Dark Star and a Dark God, she worried of course. What might that mean for the child growing inside of her?

Ciri had finally managed to find some light at the end of the tunnel but it seemed she might never escape the full weight of trauma that continued to stalk her path. She wasn’t sure how to clear it entirely, if she even could. With her wings wrapped protectively over the swell in her sides, she gazes calmly out into choppy winter waters.

Of the offensively charming stallion she had met in the Meadow, the one whose words had stuck with her long enough to set her down this new path, she doesn’t think of at all. Not once, like when she had recalled all her memories as a star. Or when she had gone to the Mountain looking for answers. Or even now, waiting for the approaching night when she can release the starlight in her soul.

"What if I need you. I need no-one."

Regret, perhaps that was another emotion that was slowly taking residence. It swirls thoughtfully in a silver sea of stars.

-- Ciri

Image by Phil Botha


]]> <![CDATA[I'm breathing in the smoke // Leilan]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30741 Fri, 18 Feb 2022 17:41:12 +0000 Trekori]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30741

Trekori

i'm freezing, it's not winter yet
but my fingers and toes
are shivering beneath these sheets
and i feel so alone
i don't want to die, i want to sleep


My hooves strike ice. The glittering white crystals littering its top layer stick to the light feathering of my hocks, dusting their dirty brown tendrils a purified white. I pause on my journey as I notice this. Hmm. Without ceremony, I drop to my knees, then to my side, my tawny wings clutched to my painted side. With an audible heave, I kick my legs up above me and wriggle and roll around in the snow, hoping that the frozen tundra can wash away the grime of my previous days' journey. Hell, of my previous life. As I move my body and feel the cold seep into it, I rest my eyes on the painful blue-white of the wintering sky above, wondering just how the hell I got this far. Not that my meager accomplishments in life have been "far," by any means.

There. Pleased with the results of my snow-bath, I repeat the heaving grown from before and right myself, splaying my legs to shake off the excess crystals. My mane slaps against both sides of my neck as I do so, the sound echoing into the vastness of the white plain ahead of me. Kinda embarrassing, I muse to myself. Oh well.

Snorting steam into the frigid air, I resume my trek towards the frozen wasteland known as a kingdom. Which kingdom I do not know. My junior years in politics long since gave way to the far more pressing needs of seclusion and mundanity, those being the themes of my adult life thus far. I could not tell you a single fact about my family, distant or close, nor a single fact about the names of the faces I knew as a somber and neglected child.

Familiarity breeds contempt. And I suppose I have held myself in contempt for a long, long time, neglecting myself the same way my parents once neglected me.

Unsure of my motives, I trudge through this frozen (yet apparently scorched?) wasteland, eager for night to fall as my eyes squint against the onslaught of whiteness before me.



]]>

Trekori

i'm freezing, it's not winter yet
but my fingers and toes
are shivering beneath these sheets
and i feel so alone
i don't want to die, i want to sleep


My hooves strike ice. The glittering white crystals littering its top layer stick to the light feathering of my hocks, dusting their dirty brown tendrils a purified white. I pause on my journey as I notice this. Hmm. Without ceremony, I drop to my knees, then to my side, my tawny wings clutched to my painted side. With an audible heave, I kick my legs up above me and wriggle and roll around in the snow, hoping that the frozen tundra can wash away the grime of my previous days' journey. Hell, of my previous life. As I move my body and feel the cold seep into it, I rest my eyes on the painful blue-white of the wintering sky above, wondering just how the hell I got this far. Not that my meager accomplishments in life have been "far," by any means.

There. Pleased with the results of my snow-bath, I repeat the heaving grown from before and right myself, splaying my legs to shake off the excess crystals. My mane slaps against both sides of my neck as I do so, the sound echoing into the vastness of the white plain ahead of me. Kinda embarrassing, I muse to myself. Oh well.

Snorting steam into the frigid air, I resume my trek towards the frozen wasteland known as a kingdom. Which kingdom I do not know. My junior years in politics long since gave way to the far more pressing needs of seclusion and mundanity, those being the themes of my adult life thus far. I could not tell you a single fact about my family, distant or close, nor a single fact about the names of the faces I knew as a somber and neglected child.

Familiarity breeds contempt. And I suppose I have held myself in contempt for a long, long time, neglecting myself the same way my parents once neglected me.

Unsure of my motives, I trudge through this frozen (yet apparently scorched?) wasteland, eager for night to fall as my eyes squint against the onslaught of whiteness before me.



]]> <![CDATA[When it feels like life is running away; Any]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30696 Fri, 04 Feb 2022 00:31:21 +0000 Ciri]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30696

all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was

Made of scars and stars, Ciri had always navigated this world with a little naivety, not always understanding the ways of the heart or the minds of others, how they always worked. How could she, when the Underneath had shown her exactly why. Why she had been different, what she truly was despite the mortal coil of this dark body. Things like love and hate, complex emotions that sometimes ranged in the gray, these were things she felt so vibrantly for how can stars truly know what it is to feel until they experience it for themselves?

She can count all of her regrets, all her mistakes, through every scar that touches her body. She regrets not being able to raise her only child and that Jah had taken him (and unknown to her Amet himself) from her, she regrets the way things had ended with Amet. She regrets not being able to tell that something had been wrong with Gale, she regrets that she has constantly failed to save or avenge him. She regrets not being as strong (in body, heart, and mind) as she had always tried to be. She regrets this anger that resides within her (stubborn and bloody) that perhaps had been too much for Leokadia and why the mare had disappeared, taking whatever had been unfolding between them with her.

Most of all (when she had stood amongst the glassy pebbles on the burnt beach left by a dragon who she had once known) she wishes, and wondered, what would have happened if she had been as honest with Castile as she had been with Amet. That is the one choice that still leaves her with so many What ifs. Where would they all be now if she had simply told him the truth? What if she had stopped trying to care about everyone else’s feelings and put her own first?

What would have happened if she had told him that she had fallen for him and given him a chance?

It’s been a very long time since these thoughts had crossed her mind but when she had been locked inside the ice, all she could do is replay these decisions and choices in her head over and over again. All she had was time, to replay every single memory and every single thing that had happened. That had led her here. And for some reason, tonight, Castile is imprinted on her mind. Perhaps it had been the grin on Kestrell’s buffoonish face that had brought it back. It had been so similar to the one the dragon shifter had flashed to her (charming and roguish) when they had first met beside Hyaline’s lake. The beginning of the end to everything she had known. Nothing had been the same since, nothing had been good since. Or maybe it had been stirring in her since she had spoken to Mazikeen beside the burnt remains of the wisteria (the charcoaled remains of her innocence).

It prickles in the back of her mind, it calls to her.

It’s these thoughts that bring her back to the Isle. On silent starlit wings, haloed by her crimson stars, she lands on the very beach she had been thinking of (the one that tethers that small piece inside of her back to the young girl she had once been, the only thing left of him.) She is still too thin, her skin too sore, her rage still blazing and unchecked. But she’s here, standing on the only thing she has left.

-- Ciri

Image by Phil Botha


Open!!!]]>

all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was

Made of scars and stars, Ciri had always navigated this world with a little naivety, not always understanding the ways of the heart or the minds of others, how they always worked. How could she, when the Underneath had shown her exactly why. Why she had been different, what she truly was despite the mortal coil of this dark body. Things like love and hate, complex emotions that sometimes ranged in the gray, these were things she felt so vibrantly for how can stars truly know what it is to feel until they experience it for themselves?

She can count all of her regrets, all her mistakes, through every scar that touches her body. She regrets not being able to raise her only child and that Jah had taken him (and unknown to her Amet himself) from her, she regrets the way things had ended with Amet. She regrets not being able to tell that something had been wrong with Gale, she regrets that she has constantly failed to save or avenge him. She regrets not being as strong (in body, heart, and mind) as she had always tried to be. She regrets this anger that resides within her (stubborn and bloody) that perhaps had been too much for Leokadia and why the mare had disappeared, taking whatever had been unfolding between them with her.

Most of all (when she had stood amongst the glassy pebbles on the burnt beach left by a dragon who she had once known) she wishes, and wondered, what would have happened if she had been as honest with Castile as she had been with Amet. That is the one choice that still leaves her with so many What ifs. Where would they all be now if she had simply told him the truth? What if she had stopped trying to care about everyone else’s feelings and put her own first?

What would have happened if she had told him that she had fallen for him and given him a chance?

It’s been a very long time since these thoughts had crossed her mind but when she had been locked inside the ice, all she could do is replay these decisions and choices in her head over and over again. All she had was time, to replay every single memory and every single thing that had happened. That had led her here. And for some reason, tonight, Castile is imprinted on her mind. Perhaps it had been the grin on Kestrell’s buffoonish face that had brought it back. It had been so similar to the one the dragon shifter had flashed to her (charming and roguish) when they had first met beside Hyaline’s lake. The beginning of the end to everything she had known. Nothing had been the same since, nothing had been good since. Or maybe it had been stirring in her since she had spoken to Mazikeen beside the burnt remains of the wisteria (the charcoaled remains of her innocence).

It prickles in the back of her mind, it calls to her.

It’s these thoughts that bring her back to the Isle. On silent starlit wings, haloed by her crimson stars, she lands on the very beach she had been thinking of (the one that tethers that small piece inside of her back to the young girl she had once been, the only thing left of him.) She is still too thin, her skin too sore, her rage still blazing and unchecked. But she’s here, standing on the only thing she has left.

-- Ciri

Image by Phil Botha


Open!!!]]> <![CDATA[If your lost and you look you will find me; Any]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30643 Tue, 18 Jan 2022 01:45:54 +0000 Fyr]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30643
I am Heaven sent, don't you dare forget

It had started as a faint rumbling. A twitch beneath his hooves. He had been standing among the burnt remains of his fire garden in the Pampas. He had been thinking of the jaguar mare erupting in flames, the glittering cold silence that lingered in the Prince’s eyes, the stories Aela had told him, the curiosity on where his friend Sickle had gone and the starry girl he often met in the midnight hours in the common lands. Most of all, he was trying to shake the old familiar feeling of rejection. When he had found Firion in the woods and had tried his best to make a connection with the stallion he now knew in his heart and soul was his sire, he had known he was grieving. He knew it had nothing to do with him but he was still young, still inexperienced with the wide range of emotions and how they yield action and reactions. The bite was sharp and stinging no matter how soft the inhaled breath or the strangled words “I’m not good company today” and the intensity of his gaze had made him pull back, had made him chew his lower lip as he brought his muzzle to his chest and simply nodded and let him go. Firion hadn’t been cold or cruel to him and yet… all the confidence that Aela had helped build in him had crumpled as the flames sputtered along his backside.

In the end he had felt fear instead of fire (the double sided sword of his name) and he had backed down away from it. It hadn’t mattered who it belonged to, the Father or the Son. He had caved to it all the same.

Aela could read him like a book and so he tried to not think of it, coming to his withered patch of flowers with the intent of acting like everything was fine. That she hadn’t been right.

And then the earth began to shake and split beneath him, the terrible sensation of falling forever, salt water in his lungs, and then nothing but blackness.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It had been weeks since he had woken up on the smooth glistening glass beach. Having never been to Icicle Isle, he had no idea that was where he had washed up. His body was bruised and battered but otherwise whole. Exhaustion seeped through his bones and left him barely able to muster weak flames along his spine. He would have laid on that beach forever if it hadn’t been for the cold. It was only luck and pure survival instincts that dragged him to a cave nearby, decorated with all sorts of oddities but warm with the faded scent of two mares. There was no sign of its inhabitants but it was warmer here, with a soft place to lay and some stale food nearby. It was enough for now. As his limbs grew less stiff and he was able to finally spark a small fire with what little energy was left, the events of what had happened finally began to come back to him.

The Pampas had split and he had fallen…. Into the sea? His brain couldn’t really wrap around it. What did it mean? That fear began to wrap itself around his young heart and shortly after followed Terror, creeping slowly through the threads of his soul summoning bond and curling around his neck. Where was Aela? Where was the Prince? His friends, were they ok? Sickle….. Liesma.. His heart stuttered when he thought of her and her stars falling into an abyss.

He could have sat with Terror forever, could have broken beneath the wait of worry and what-ifs until he had wasted away. Hunger pains, sharp and impatient, carved at his belly and saved him in the end from the soul that found him so vulnerable. It stayed with him, the weak boy who could not muster the energy to banish it, but it did not consume him. There was a streak of resilience within the boy, one that had kept him from folding in the Den. Something that Terror still couldn't reach. 

That had been the first few days after the fall of the South. Now he was starting to feel better, enough that Terror was forced to release some of its grip but Fyr was still unable to shake it entirely. He stuck close to the cave near the burnt beach (burnt by what, he imagines, something terrible like him?), wondering where he was and where everyone else could be. When he wasn't foraging for food, he created a forage of flames, creating more smooth colorful pebbles out of grains of sand to add to the jagged sea of glass simply because he knew when Aela found him she would be disappointed if he hadn’t been practicing. He had only just reentered the cave for the night, had only just fanned fire out of nothing to flicker soothingly before him and keep him warm, when a sound at the mouth of the cavern made him spin around. Fear and fire flickering in his feral eyes as flames sputtered to life along his back.

fyr


]]>
I am Heaven sent, don't you dare forget

It had started as a faint rumbling. A twitch beneath his hooves. He had been standing among the burnt remains of his fire garden in the Pampas. He had been thinking of the jaguar mare erupting in flames, the glittering cold silence that lingered in the Prince’s eyes, the stories Aela had told him, the curiosity on where his friend Sickle had gone and the starry girl he often met in the midnight hours in the common lands. Most of all, he was trying to shake the old familiar feeling of rejection. When he had found Firion in the woods and had tried his best to make a connection with the stallion he now knew in his heart and soul was his sire, he had known he was grieving. He knew it had nothing to do with him but he was still young, still inexperienced with the wide range of emotions and how they yield action and reactions. The bite was sharp and stinging no matter how soft the inhaled breath or the strangled words “I’m not good company today” and the intensity of his gaze had made him pull back, had made him chew his lower lip as he brought his muzzle to his chest and simply nodded and let him go. Firion hadn’t been cold or cruel to him and yet… all the confidence that Aela had helped build in him had crumpled as the flames sputtered along his backside.

In the end he had felt fear instead of fire (the double sided sword of his name) and he had backed down away from it. It hadn’t mattered who it belonged to, the Father or the Son. He had caved to it all the same.

Aela could read him like a book and so he tried to not think of it, coming to his withered patch of flowers with the intent of acting like everything was fine. That she hadn’t been right.

And then the earth began to shake and split beneath him, the terrible sensation of falling forever, salt water in his lungs, and then nothing but blackness.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It had been weeks since he had woken up on the smooth glistening glass beach. Having never been to Icicle Isle, he had no idea that was where he had washed up. His body was bruised and battered but otherwise whole. Exhaustion seeped through his bones and left him barely able to muster weak flames along his spine. He would have laid on that beach forever if it hadn’t been for the cold. It was only luck and pure survival instincts that dragged him to a cave nearby, decorated with all sorts of oddities but warm with the faded scent of two mares. There was no sign of its inhabitants but it was warmer here, with a soft place to lay and some stale food nearby. It was enough for now. As his limbs grew less stiff and he was able to finally spark a small fire with what little energy was left, the events of what had happened finally began to come back to him.

The Pampas had split and he had fallen…. Into the sea? His brain couldn’t really wrap around it. What did it mean? That fear began to wrap itself around his young heart and shortly after followed Terror, creeping slowly through the threads of his soul summoning bond and curling around his neck. Where was Aela? Where was the Prince? His friends, were they ok? Sickle….. Liesma.. His heart stuttered when he thought of her and her stars falling into an abyss.

He could have sat with Terror forever, could have broken beneath the wait of worry and what-ifs until he had wasted away. Hunger pains, sharp and impatient, carved at his belly and saved him in the end from the soul that found him so vulnerable. It stayed with him, the weak boy who could not muster the energy to banish it, but it did not consume him. There was a streak of resilience within the boy, one that had kept him from folding in the Den. Something that Terror still couldn't reach. 

That had been the first few days after the fall of the South. Now he was starting to feel better, enough that Terror was forced to release some of its grip but Fyr was still unable to shake it entirely. He stuck close to the cave near the burnt beach (burnt by what, he imagines, something terrible like him?), wondering where he was and where everyone else could be. When he wasn't foraging for food, he created a forage of flames, creating more smooth colorful pebbles out of grains of sand to add to the jagged sea of glass simply because he knew when Aela found him she would be disappointed if he hadn’t been practicing. He had only just reentered the cave for the night, had only just fanned fire out of nothing to flicker soothingly before him and keep him warm, when a sound at the mouth of the cavern made him spin around. Fear and fire flickering in his feral eyes as flames sputtered to life along his back.

fyr


]]> <![CDATA[I wanna love easily]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30483 Mon, 08 Nov 2021 02:36:25 +0000 Wylder]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30483
You think the world sounds nice. But your family, they are all that you need. Of course, you do not know how far your roots run. You do not think of roots at all, only because you have never thought about what sits below the soil of the trees you love to run through.

You find your father exactly where you believed you would. He is predictable in the best way possible. (Your father is also brave, and bold, and funny, and loving.) Your father is all things good in the world and quite possibly one of your favorite things in this world. You are invisible, the glowing footsteps are the only clue to your existence.

“Dad,” you say as your body becomes visible once more and you say it with the endearing whine only children with bright, innocent eyes can hold. “You said we could go see the lights tonight.” There is a drop of your green eyes and your wings shuffle closer to your body. “You promised.”

]]>
You think the world sounds nice. But your family, they are all that you need. Of course, you do not know how far your roots run. You do not think of roots at all, only because you have never thought about what sits below the soil of the trees you love to run through.

You find your father exactly where you believed you would. He is predictable in the best way possible. (Your father is also brave, and bold, and funny, and loving.) Your father is all things good in the world and quite possibly one of your favorite things in this world. You are invisible, the glowing footsteps are the only clue to your existence.

“Dad,” you say as your body becomes visible once more and you say it with the endearing whine only children with bright, innocent eyes can hold. “You said we could go see the lights tonight.” There is a drop of your green eyes and your wings shuffle closer to your body. “You promised.”

]]> <![CDATA[life can be unkind, but only sometimes]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30259 Sat, 11 Sep 2021 02:27:21 +0000 Leokadia]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30259

Lo does not know how she could possibly make a promise to flee should Gale come to the isle. She doesn’t think it is in her to abandon someone who matters, thinking of it, picturing leaving Ciri to danger is crueler than anything else she can imagine just now. She hates the thought of letting the star-trailed mare die for her even more. “I promise.” She whispers, not sure if she is even heard. Ciri’s breathing has just become even and slow, her body heavy with sleep. Leokadia hopes no dreams disturb her there as she turns her eyes toward the mouth of the cave, and after a long while drifts into her own rest, her mind on the edge of wakefulness but her body more comfortable than it has ever been, even there on the cold granite.

They sleep in their cave together on the nights they are both at home. Sometimes Leokadia roams, sometimes Ciri does. It is their place, where they can comfortably curl together and rest, or shelter from a storm. Lo is learning how to live on the isle, growing her thick winter hide, but she likes to range to warmer climates and bring back things to tuck into their cave. Feathers of cream and black peek from among dry grass, the odd leaf, sprigs of lavender snatched from the south before the winter fell. There are other things too. Tucked in the corners of the cave are pretty rocks, a huge pinecone from the Taiga, the tooth of some long-dead sea monster, a conch carried up from the beach. Leokadia has never had a home before, and now that she does she makes it a place for the things that make her feel something, contentment, awe, curiosity. She probably looks like a strange pale raven bringing home bundles of grass or glittering treasures and tucking them away.

She has not yet introduced herself to any of the others here and avoids them when they try to get near. It is not that Leokadia is shy, far from it, she just wants to watch everyone a while longer and make sure she knows how to be just Leokadia around anyone but Ciri.

Lo tries not to test the strength of that tension that spools up between them so often. She knows that sometimes her touch lingers too long when they groom or rest against one another and when she feels she has been too much she tries to leave Ciri alone for a day or two. The cremello pegasus is uncertain if she does this for her own or her friend’s benefit.

She wakes alone this morning, as she had been when she went to sleep. Stretched out on her side, her wings a haphazard disarray around her lithe body. A downy black feather clings to her face, and shaking it away she stumbles to her feet and out of the cave. The sun has risen but hangs above the still orange horizon, round and white and much too bright. Blinking just outside the cave, Leokadia tries to grow accustomed to the light, certain that she sees Ciri just a little ways off.

Leokadia



and actually for Ciri hahaha]]>

Lo does not know how she could possibly make a promise to flee should Gale come to the isle. She doesn’t think it is in her to abandon someone who matters, thinking of it, picturing leaving Ciri to danger is crueler than anything else she can imagine just now. She hates the thought of letting the star-trailed mare die for her even more. “I promise.” She whispers, not sure if she is even heard. Ciri’s breathing has just become even and slow, her body heavy with sleep. Leokadia hopes no dreams disturb her there as she turns her eyes toward the mouth of the cave, and after a long while drifts into her own rest, her mind on the edge of wakefulness but her body more comfortable than it has ever been, even there on the cold granite.

They sleep in their cave together on the nights they are both at home. Sometimes Leokadia roams, sometimes Ciri does. It is their place, where they can comfortably curl together and rest, or shelter from a storm. Lo is learning how to live on the isle, growing her thick winter hide, but she likes to range to warmer climates and bring back things to tuck into their cave. Feathers of cream and black peek from among dry grass, the odd leaf, sprigs of lavender snatched from the south before the winter fell. There are other things too. Tucked in the corners of the cave are pretty rocks, a huge pinecone from the Taiga, the tooth of some long-dead sea monster, a conch carried up from the beach. Leokadia has never had a home before, and now that she does she makes it a place for the things that make her feel something, contentment, awe, curiosity. She probably looks like a strange pale raven bringing home bundles of grass or glittering treasures and tucking them away.

She has not yet introduced herself to any of the others here and avoids them when they try to get near. It is not that Leokadia is shy, far from it, she just wants to watch everyone a while longer and make sure she knows how to be just Leokadia around anyone but Ciri.

Lo tries not to test the strength of that tension that spools up between them so often. She knows that sometimes her touch lingers too long when they groom or rest against one another and when she feels she has been too much she tries to leave Ciri alone for a day or two. The cremello pegasus is uncertain if she does this for her own or her friend’s benefit.

She wakes alone this morning, as she had been when she went to sleep. Stretched out on her side, her wings a haphazard disarray around her lithe body. A downy black feather clings to her face, and shaking it away she stumbles to her feet and out of the cave. The sun has risen but hangs above the still orange horizon, round and white and much too bright. Blinking just outside the cave, Leokadia tries to grow accustomed to the light, certain that she sees Ciri just a little ways off.

Leokadia



and actually for Ciri hahaha]]> <![CDATA[back to you; any]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30216 Wed, 08 Sep 2021 04:01:18 +0000 Kensa]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30216

you could break my heart in two, but when it heals, it beats for you

It is mid-afternoon, the warmest part of the day in other places, but up here in the North it is just the time of day in which the sun glares most harshly off of the snow. Kensa keeps her back to it, choosing to linger on the beach. Before her eyes, the ocean spreads out again, dark and deceptively calm at low tide.

She has not decided if she will stay here, or even what she plans to do with herself. There was a time when there were things she wanted, and gazing toward the mainland, Kensa does not have to try hard to remember them. Hidden in distant clouds are the peaks of Hyaline. She is no longer the child that so loved those heights, but they made her strong, almost strong enough to be the woman she should have been. She had risen to a leader up there, made a wish that would alter the destiny of generations, been betrayed, and became the betrayer. It is the love she remembers most clearly. It rises to the top, like the foam crowning the waves that roll in at her feet, drawing her attention as it always does. Kensa hopes someone is loving her little ones, now not so little. Always the years with him come to mind, pieces only, beautiful and flawed. She knows someone will be loving him, and she tries not to think about it because she has no right to.

So her mind wanders back to all the other things and finds it takes little for what has been smothered to flare to life again. Just as she turns toward the sound of an approach, she wonders if she will regret this day and the path she sets herself upon. Then she smiles her beautiful scimitar smile.

Regret lives on either side of the coin and she would rather call it for herself.

“Hello. I don’t think we’ve met?” Maybe they have, but her lovely face drifts into kind openness so that anyone would believe this beauty has forgotten them. (Remember what a fool they thought you were, Kensa?) She is warm in her demeanor, eager, and intent upon the one who has joined her. As she regards them her smile softens and then flares to brilliance again.

“Kensa.”

You know, that’s all the introduction she ever needs to bother with.

Kensa



Smile]]>

you could break my heart in two, but when it heals, it beats for you

It is mid-afternoon, the warmest part of the day in other places, but up here in the North it is just the time of day in which the sun glares most harshly off of the snow. Kensa keeps her back to it, choosing to linger on the beach. Before her eyes, the ocean spreads out again, dark and deceptively calm at low tide.

She has not decided if she will stay here, or even what she plans to do with herself. There was a time when there were things she wanted, and gazing toward the mainland, Kensa does not have to try hard to remember them. Hidden in distant clouds are the peaks of Hyaline. She is no longer the child that so loved those heights, but they made her strong, almost strong enough to be the woman she should have been. She had risen to a leader up there, made a wish that would alter the destiny of generations, been betrayed, and became the betrayer. It is the love she remembers most clearly. It rises to the top, like the foam crowning the waves that roll in at her feet, drawing her attention as it always does. Kensa hopes someone is loving her little ones, now not so little. Always the years with him come to mind, pieces only, beautiful and flawed. She knows someone will be loving him, and she tries not to think about it because she has no right to.

So her mind wanders back to all the other things and finds it takes little for what has been smothered to flare to life again. Just as she turns toward the sound of an approach, she wonders if she will regret this day and the path she sets herself upon. Then she smiles her beautiful scimitar smile.

Regret lives on either side of the coin and she would rather call it for herself.

“Hello. I don’t think we’ve met?” Maybe they have, but her lovely face drifts into kind openness so that anyone would believe this beauty has forgotten them. (Remember what a fool they thought you were, Kensa?) She is warm in her demeanor, eager, and intent upon the one who has joined her. As she regards them her smile softens and then flares to brilliance again.

“Kensa.”

You know, that’s all the introduction she ever needs to bother with.

Kensa



Smile]]> <![CDATA[tear down hollows, take back eternity; Nashua]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30141 Tue, 31 Aug 2021 14:30:16 +0000 Reave]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30141

i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

He does not relish the swim through the icy waters to the northernmost isle. He has managed to avoid it thus far, but time grows short as the nights grow longer. His bones make him heavy, and he is breathless from effort as he steps onto the icy shores of the kingdom’s seat.

He had always believed it short-sighted to rule from such an inhospitable and difficult to reach location, but these decisions had been made before his birth. The tendrils of future he can see curling forward tell him that change is coming however. It has always been hard to know the path that would inevitably rise above the rest, but as time grows shorter and they begin to coalesce, it becomes easier and easier to find the way forward.

This gift is both frustrating and useful, but he finds himself glad for it either way.

Rune releases a cry overhead, and for a brief moment, Reave can see the stretch of ice and snow and obsidian stone. With the bird’s guidance, he finds his brother with ease.

This meeting has been long in coming, but it had always been waiting for them. Despite the tempest in his heart and the restlessness of his feet, Reave is a surprisingly patient creature. He had not felt the need to rush this, even if he had been mildly annoyed his brother could not find the time for him amongst all his other… kingly duties. And the missing child and brother.

It’s undeniably selfish, but Reave has never bothered to hide the fact that he is not nearly so selfless as some of his more upstanding relations.

With a faint smile on his lips and a glint in his blue eye, he approaches with the confidence of a stallion many years his senior. The swim had cleansed blood from bone, but new trickles are already seeking to replace it. “I bet you never expected to have so many visitors in such a short time on your remote little isle here,” Reave offers by way of greeting, amusement causing his lips to twitch. “How was your visit with Cheri?”

reave



]]>

i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

He does not relish the swim through the icy waters to the northernmost isle. He has managed to avoid it thus far, but time grows short as the nights grow longer. His bones make him heavy, and he is breathless from effort as he steps onto the icy shores of the kingdom’s seat.

He had always believed it short-sighted to rule from such an inhospitable and difficult to reach location, but these decisions had been made before his birth. The tendrils of future he can see curling forward tell him that change is coming however. It has always been hard to know the path that would inevitably rise above the rest, but as time grows shorter and they begin to coalesce, it becomes easier and easier to find the way forward.

This gift is both frustrating and useful, but he finds himself glad for it either way.

Rune releases a cry overhead, and for a brief moment, Reave can see the stretch of ice and snow and obsidian stone. With the bird’s guidance, he finds his brother with ease.

This meeting has been long in coming, but it had always been waiting for them. Despite the tempest in his heart and the restlessness of his feet, Reave is a surprisingly patient creature. He had not felt the need to rush this, even if he had been mildly annoyed his brother could not find the time for him amongst all his other… kingly duties. And the missing child and brother.

It’s undeniably selfish, but Reave has never bothered to hide the fact that he is not nearly so selfless as some of his more upstanding relations.

With a faint smile on his lips and a glint in his blue eye, he approaches with the confidence of a stallion many years his senior. The swim had cleansed blood from bone, but new trickles are already seeking to replace it. “I bet you never expected to have so many visitors in such a short time on your remote little isle here,” Reave offers by way of greeting, amusement causing his lips to twitch. “How was your visit with Cheri?”

reave



]]> <![CDATA[I'm searching for fragile bones]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30113 Sat, 28 Aug 2021 02:54:11 +0000 Cassiell]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30113
That frigid northern wind, tinged with scents of sea and charred earth, beckoned him onward. And so onward he flew, dark wings carrying him to the heart of this frozen kingdom, his midnight pelt drab in comparison to the beauty of its evening sky; for there the aurora borealis danced with those shimmering shades of azure and emerald playing against one another in a never-ending flirtation. For all his years, for all his scars, for all that he was, still Cassiell could admire the beauty of that sky.

And admire it he did.

Strong wings surging in self-assured strokes, the brute continued on in his foray, forging ever-deeper into a territory he had no business being in. And while he flew, his molten gaze skimmed the granite island unfurling far below, its scarred surface telling a story just as surely as his own marred form told such a tale all its own. But as for the story in question? Being a stranger to these lands, he couldn't even begin to guess at what had happened here. The black glass shimmered upon the beach like so many broken dreams. The charred trees of the forest in the distance gaped at him in a grotesque pantomime of a smile. And then there was the fire -- those blue flames which burned with all the insatiable fury of the devil himself there beside that heart-shaped lake.

The irony of it all.

It was to that latter point that the midnight pegasus was inevitably drawn, his curiosity luring him in closer and closer until hooves of tarnished bronze were finally digging into the earth there at the lakeside to carry him onward on foot. Wings tucking alongside his ribcage, he lifted his skull heavenward and tested at the air, nostrils flaring as he drank in deeply of the various scents ghosting along the frigid breeze. Upon his subsequent exhale, his breath unfurled before him in wisps of fog like dragon smoke as he drew to a pause before the burning tree. Azure flames reflected within the depths of his golden gaze, he simply stood there and looked upon the peculiar sight of it all -- an ebon phantom in truth on this night as he was being bathed in the flickering tongues of that never-failing, eerie glow.

cassiell

temperance is a virtue

Dark Pegasus by Tatiana Yamshanova used with permission.



]]>
That frigid northern wind, tinged with scents of sea and charred earth, beckoned him onward. And so onward he flew, dark wings carrying him to the heart of this frozen kingdom, his midnight pelt drab in comparison to the beauty of its evening sky; for there the aurora borealis danced with those shimmering shades of azure and emerald playing against one another in a never-ending flirtation. For all his years, for all his scars, for all that he was, still Cassiell could admire the beauty of that sky.

And admire it he did.

Strong wings surging in self-assured strokes, the brute continued on in his foray, forging ever-deeper into a territory he had no business being in. And while he flew, his molten gaze skimmed the granite island unfurling far below, its scarred surface telling a story just as surely as his own marred form told such a tale all its own. But as for the story in question? Being a stranger to these lands, he couldn't even begin to guess at what had happened here. The black glass shimmered upon the beach like so many broken dreams. The charred trees of the forest in the distance gaped at him in a grotesque pantomime of a smile. And then there was the fire -- those blue flames which burned with all the insatiable fury of the devil himself there beside that heart-shaped lake.

The irony of it all.

It was to that latter point that the midnight pegasus was inevitably drawn, his curiosity luring him in closer and closer until hooves of tarnished bronze were finally digging into the earth there at the lakeside to carry him onward on foot. Wings tucking alongside his ribcage, he lifted his skull heavenward and tested at the air, nostrils flaring as he drank in deeply of the various scents ghosting along the frigid breeze. Upon his subsequent exhale, his breath unfurled before him in wisps of fog like dragon smoke as he drew to a pause before the burning tree. Azure flames reflected within the depths of his golden gaze, he simply stood there and looked upon the peculiar sight of it all -- an ebon phantom in truth on this night as he was being bathed in the flickering tongues of that never-failing, eerie glow.

cassiell

temperance is a virtue

Dark Pegasus by Tatiana Yamshanova used with permission.



]]> <![CDATA[Everything that drowns me, makes me want to fly]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30096 Wed, 25 Aug 2021 18:52:58 +0000 Leilan]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30096
Leilan
The sky has the color of apricots, roses and peaches when the scaled stallion wanders by the Isle’s western shore. The sun hangs low, as it usually does around this time of the year, a beacon beckoning from far away. It can be looked at now - the sun. The fact that it’s there is part of his own doing, but had put a loved one out of reach; not unlike the ball of fire itself. Unreachable, untouchable, haunting. Taunting him with yet another day gone, time passing by. Time in which she might just stick around and be preserved forever, or time in which she will lose more and more of herself each day, each hour, each second that passes.

He doesn’t often visit the sunset on the western shores, but he does today. He’d have to do something different at some point, he figured - was that walking this way or that, or was it the way he’d tried to reach into the beyond, the greyness, past the veil he had only once been able to reach by? As he closes his eyes he tries to remember how they made it back to the beach, aided by the sound of the waves lapping calmly at his feet. The Isle provides enough ice around him to easily do this, were he not so inexperienced in the magic - but he’d promised, he’d promised not to leave. It would be so easy to make yet another portal, to vanish into that realm he now senses, but there is a stronger emotion tethering him to the world he knows. So now, instead of going, he is pulling - there is no other word to describe what his magic and his subconscious are doing. He’s looking for a friend, a mare, chestnut, slender build…

He stands, from an outside point of view, ossified on the beach. Opens swirling quicksilver eyes (a colour he never had before, one that fades to icy blue in a few heartbeats), and finds himself where he started.

But this time, he is not alone.
something so wrong
doing the right thing


]]>
Leilan
The sky has the color of apricots, roses and peaches when the scaled stallion wanders by the Isle’s western shore. The sun hangs low, as it usually does around this time of the year, a beacon beckoning from far away. It can be looked at now - the sun. The fact that it’s there is part of his own doing, but had put a loved one out of reach; not unlike the ball of fire itself. Unreachable, untouchable, haunting. Taunting him with yet another day gone, time passing by. Time in which she might just stick around and be preserved forever, or time in which she will lose more and more of herself each day, each hour, each second that passes.

He doesn’t often visit the sunset on the western shores, but he does today. He’d have to do something different at some point, he figured - was that walking this way or that, or was it the way he’d tried to reach into the beyond, the greyness, past the veil he had only once been able to reach by? As he closes his eyes he tries to remember how they made it back to the beach, aided by the sound of the waves lapping calmly at his feet. The Isle provides enough ice around him to easily do this, were he not so inexperienced in the magic - but he’d promised, he’d promised not to leave. It would be so easy to make yet another portal, to vanish into that realm he now senses, but there is a stronger emotion tethering him to the world he knows. So now, instead of going, he is pulling - there is no other word to describe what his magic and his subconscious are doing. He’s looking for a friend, a mare, chestnut, slender build…

He stands, from an outside point of view, ossified on the beach. Opens swirling quicksilver eyes (a colour he never had before, one that fades to icy blue in a few heartbeats), and finds himself where he started.

But this time, he is not alone.
something so wrong
doing the right thing


]]> <![CDATA[Garden of Lucid Dreams]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30075 Mon, 23 Aug 2021 16:54:38 +0000 Ehko]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=30075

Ehko

It isn’t every day that you wake up not remembering your childhood. Two years, her mother had said. Two years spent entombed within her protective ball of ice while she healed, and Ehko doesn’t remember a thing.

She waited by the shore of the northernmost isle, out past the rising glaciers where the choppy gray sea brought frozen shards to gather at her hooves, and tried her best to recall the past. If she thought the waves might bring her clarity as well as flotsam, she was wrong. The dull slapping sound of water over rock produced nothing.

The dragon-winged pegasus sighed and turned away, headed back for the mainland where the uneven tundra fields could at least offer something to eat in the meantime. Not that she was particularly hungry, but Ehko knew that padding her flesh with fat after such a long sleep was the best option. Winter was on its way, and the nights spent here on Icicle Isle were brutally unforgiving to unprepared horses.

In the days since her reanimation, Ehko had learned everything from scratch. How to walk, where she was, what had happened to her - all blank sleeves of empty space in her mind waiting to be filled with knowledge. She absorbed as much as she could, but the impractical things like Islandres and the sound of her twin’s voice had all but faded away in her mind. Her mother, Eyas, did her best to sketch them back where they belonged, yet to Ehko it felt like replacing a priceless masterpiece with a second-hand replica. She didn’t even look the same anymore.

Eyas had shown her daughter through visual manipulation what she looked like to others, and Ehko had recoiled in horror at the reflected image.

Her body was so different. Too different. Altered in a way that her mind had trouble comprehending. To her it only felt like a day had passed since she’d gone to sleep, while the reality of her situation constantly proved that years had actually rolled by. Her trek back to the mainland ceased when she reached a thin outcropping of hardy pines, and she swept her mouth down to the ground for a quick nibble as the disorientation set in again.

Soon enough Eyas would be back to check up on her. She could drift peacefully into the psychosis of believing this was all a silly dream for a little while longer, and when she finished this bite and swallowed, Ehko would snap out of it and find herself in exactly the right place again. She lifted her head, swirled the tasty sedge stalks in her mouth, ground them into a pleasant green paste, and swallowed.

Nothing.

Sighing, the tobiano mare dappled in dragon scales lowered her head for another bite, figuring there really wasn’t any harm in trying again.


Open to anyone! Made for ]]>

Ehko

It isn’t every day that you wake up not remembering your childhood. Two years, her mother had said. Two years spent entombed within her protective ball of ice while she healed, and Ehko doesn’t remember a thing.

She waited by the shore of the northernmost isle, out past the rising glaciers where the choppy gray sea brought frozen shards to gather at her hooves, and tried her best to recall the past. If she thought the waves might bring her clarity as well as flotsam, she was wrong. The dull slapping sound of water over rock produced nothing.

The dragon-winged pegasus sighed and turned away, headed back for the mainland where the uneven tundra fields could at least offer something to eat in the meantime. Not that she was particularly hungry, but Ehko knew that padding her flesh with fat after such a long sleep was the best option. Winter was on its way, and the nights spent here on Icicle Isle were brutally unforgiving to unprepared horses.

In the days since her reanimation, Ehko had learned everything from scratch. How to walk, where she was, what had happened to her - all blank sleeves of empty space in her mind waiting to be filled with knowledge. She absorbed as much as she could, but the impractical things like Islandres and the sound of her twin’s voice had all but faded away in her mind. Her mother, Eyas, did her best to sketch them back where they belonged, yet to Ehko it felt like replacing a priceless masterpiece with a second-hand replica. She didn’t even look the same anymore.

Eyas had shown her daughter through visual manipulation what she looked like to others, and Ehko had recoiled in horror at the reflected image.

Her body was so different. Too different. Altered in a way that her mind had trouble comprehending. To her it only felt like a day had passed since she’d gone to sleep, while the reality of her situation constantly proved that years had actually rolled by. Her trek back to the mainland ceased when she reached a thin outcropping of hardy pines, and she swept her mouth down to the ground for a quick nibble as the disorientation set in again.

Soon enough Eyas would be back to check up on her. She could drift peacefully into the psychosis of believing this was all a silly dream for a little while longer, and when she finished this bite and swallowed, Ehko would snap out of it and find herself in exactly the right place again. She lifted her head, swirled the tasty sedge stalks in her mouth, ground them into a pleasant green paste, and swallowed.

Nothing.

Sighing, the tobiano mare dappled in dragon scales lowered her head for another bite, figuring there really wasn’t any harm in trying again.


Open to anyone! Made for ]]>