Beqanna - The Gates

she was swallowed by the sky { any }

Fri, 03 Jul 2026 11:33:49 +0000

The pearl and gold mare preened her wings lazily as she relished in the warm breeze of her home. Whilst the rest of Beqanna was plagued with bitter cold and snow, Aera was here in the everlasting green and warmth of the Gates. She seldom traveled outside of the lush landscape this time of year, especially when the climate made for quite the sparse winter coat. If it weren't for her feathered wings, she would have frozen during her last visit to the meadow. She turned her delicate face to tend to her other wing, nuzzling through the downy soft feathers for any out of place, she was always quite meticulous with her preening. No one wanted unsightly, dull wings. She finished her fussing with a shimmy of her shoulders and snorted softly. What another beautiful day..., she thought to herself with eyes half lidded and a lazy contented smile tugging at the corners of her velveteen lips. Nothing seemed out of place today, it was quiet and peaceful as per usual here. Seldom was there any conflict nowadays and she was more than content with that face. She was more of a lover than a fighter anyway and she wasn't ever keen on sullying her appearance for petty squabbles over territory or partnership.

Aera swept into a lofty trot down a grassy flower laden slope to a pretty pond dotted with blooming lily pads that floated atop the glassy surface. She took a moment to gaze into the mirror-like pond and her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight that reflected off the water. She was ever so thankful that this beautiful place was where she called home. No other place she had seen in her long life had come close to the absolutely breathtaking landscape here. She loved the feel of willow tendrils as they caressed her lightly upon passing through their weeping branches, collecting purple blooms and petals in her mane as she brushed along the wisteria, finding zen at the mother tree, and having quiet moments within the beauty of this nature. It was all so wonderful, she only wished she had someone to appreciate it with. She needed not a romantic love, though she would not be opposed if a suitor were to catch her eye...she truly only wished to find herself a true bosom companion.

a e r a

would you break even my wings like a swallow?

I love you always forever { Auto Quest }

Thu, 02 Jul 2026 15:47:42 +0000

everywhere i will be with you

A soft ocean breeze blew over the lush green grasses that bordered the edge of the shoreline and the rest of the green laiden kingdom, and lightly rustled through the pearly locks of Whisteria's mane. She smiled softly, watching over her gathered family and laying within the soft cushion of meadowgrass. She never thought this would be her future, her family, her soul mate, a home that had a corner that resembled their old beach herdland. It was all so perfect. Lovely blue eyes gazed with love at the bay stallion poised at the waters edge as he watched her son's play amongst the crystaline azure waves. She felt so full yet, there was a tiredness that pulled at her soul...as if death was coercing her back beyond the gates of the afterlife. Knowing she had cheated the sands of time, stealing life beyond her years that she shouldn't have been allowed when those gates had been flung open. She had unfinished business and she knew she would never feel complete until she knew what happened to Clawfinger. She had searched and searched to no avail, and it broke her heart. She thought coming back had been a waste, that was until she found Fascade again. The first time she saw him shed his last feather and wither away she was distraught. Only to find him revived shortly after each feather regrew on his bare wings, and she was relieved beyond words. Since then she had seen him die once more only to return shortly after. He was eternal, and she feared the day she would finally slip away, never to meet him again.

Her lids felt heavy and she shut them, the sound of the crashing waves, gulls, and the laughter of children lulled her into a state of zen. At first she felt at peace, but as soon as she felt her own spirit slipping from her corporeal form she began to panic. She opened her eyes but found herself looking at her own body in the grass with a soft smile painted on her velveteen lips. "No, please no....I am not ready! I don't want to leave them!", she cried as she turned to face a black misty form of an equine that only surveyed her with expectant glowing eyes. The being spoke in multiple hushed tones that seemed to come from all around her rather from it's mouth, and she stepped back with her head lowered. "WHISTERIA. YOU HAVE HAD YOUR EXTENDED TIME ON THE MORTAL PLANE THAT WAS NOT INTENDED. IT IS TIME TO RETURN.", the voices said to her with finality. She shook her head, tossing her long forelock side to side with the motion as she sobbed, "NO! Please! I will do anything!!! Anything to stay with them, please!!", and dropped to her knees in front of the afterlife's wayfairer. She truly would do anything to stay, anything to remain with Fascade and live together for eternity if his eternity was here on this mortal plane. The mist looked thoughtfully at her and was silent for a moment before the voices rang out again. "IF YOU TRULY GIVE UP YOUR HEARTS DEEPEST DESIRE AND MOST TREASURED MEMORY, WE WILL ALLOW YOU THE GRACE OF ETERNITY HERE. CAN YOU TRULY DO THAT?", it said with sincerity. She looked away, a ragged sob leaving her throat as she bobbed her head. "Clawfinger...", she whispered with a heaviness that cleaved at her already wounded heart. She cast her gaze toward the waiting wayfairer and dipped her head low. Ready to release that desire to find her adopted son, the moments they had together, and the pain that continued to sear her heart centuries after his disappearance and time spent in the afterlife. The memories haunted her, but they were truly her most treasured. "I will. Please, take the memories, take the pained love and desire to reunite with him...I want to stay...", she said in a tone so serious and genuine that the being nodded its head. "SO BE IT.", the voices said with finality. It strode forward and pressed cool misty lips to her brow and she felt what she could only describe as a bolt of hot lightning that rendered her spirit prone and she shut her eyes tight.

When she gasped and her eyes flew open, she was there on the grass. Staring out at the ocean and her family. Her sides heaved and sweat drenched her coat as she stared out wide eyed. Though she was panicked she felt full of energy, more than she had felt in years. She felt the vitality of herself in her prime. Fascade had crested the slope from where he had been on the beach and trotted to her with concern painted on his face. "My heart? Are you ok?", he cooed to her softly, and she looked to him with misty eyes full of love. "I am fine, better than I have felt in a long time..." She had figured it must have all been just a strange dream until she realized something felt strange, a feeling almost like she was forgetting something. She tilted her head slightly, combing her memory for whatever it may be but there was nothing but the sound of many voices that said "IT IS DONE...", and as the words drifted away, so did that feeling of something lost. She shook her head and returned her gaze to Fascade, then turned it down to the shoreline to smile at Hrairoo and Chervil who were playing in the sand. She felt absolutely fulfilled, this was her beautiful life and her beautiful family. She thought back to her time on Paradise Beach with their old herd, birthing her son Whiskaway, and gossiping with her old herdmates. It was a peaceful life, one full of happiness and void of strife. No, nothing bad had ever happened there. Nothing at all, and now she was here on this slice of new paradise with her beloved for all of eternity to come.

She stood with a graceful ease that even had Fascade's eyes widen as he beheld her. Noticing her newfound vitality that he had not seen in many years. He whispered her name in question and she directed her smile to him, "I thought it was a dream, but I was given a chance to share eternity with you....and I took it.", she said with light in her soft blue eyes. He tilted his dished head, "But..how?", he said softly and she shrugged. "All I can remember is I had to give something up, but...I cant seem to remember what it was?", she said with a curious tone. She felt no sadness, no wanting, just peace and a new spark of life. Fascade frowned for a moment, but realized how absolutely at peace she looked and reached to stroke her ivory cheek with his dark muzzle. "Well, whatever it was, it must have been worth it to trade it for eternity.", he said with so much love in his voice. Her twin colts came bursting up the slope now, bickering back and forth about who had the best jump over the waves. Little nips and pushes were exchanged between them and Whisteria tutted, "Now now, boys! One at a time! Both of you jumped over those waves brilliantly! Remember to be kind to one another.", she cooed at them like a mother dove to her brood. Chervil's fluffy stump of a tail swished fervently with annoyance as he cut his blue eyes, his mother's eyes, at Hrairoo. Who in turn stuck his tongue out at Chervil with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. She knew Whiskaway was just as mischievous as a colt back on the old beach with the foals of the other mares and she let out a soft laugh. The two quickly forgot about that last argument and challenged one another to a race along the shoreline and Hrairoo charged off before Chervil finished the count to three. The monochromatic colt squeaked, "THAT'S NOT FAIR HRAIROO! YOU CHEATED!!", and leapt into a gallop to catch up to his brother. "My goodness those two...", Fascade said with exasperation, but Whisteria only laughed with a voice that chimed like sweet bells in the breeze. The two sidled closer to one another as they gazed out over the shoreline together, Fascade draping a feathered wing protectively over her back and nuzzled her. "I will never let you go.", he said with his muzzle in her mane, and she arched her neck to nuzzle his as she replied with absolute love, "And I will never, ever leave. Not even the beckoning of death can take me away from you."
The two stayed entwined as the colts rushed back and forth along the shoreline, the sun beginning to drift toward the horizon spilling rippling glitter across the waves in hues of pink and gold. Nothing would ever take this memory away from her.

Whisteria

Image by Owen Yin

Ooc: Whisteria chooses Immortality in exchange for her beloved bittersweet memories of her first, adopted son.
Word Count: 1,504

Chaos and Whimsy; any

Tue, 26 May 2026 22:37:12 +0000

It had been a perfectly ordinary day in the meadow. The kind of day that asked nothing of anyone: soft light, easy quiet, the small green flames of Tipsy's foxfire drifting their usual lazy circles around her as she moved, casting idle flickers across the black and white patches of her coat. She was mid-step, going nowhere in particular, thinking nothing of consequence.

Then her nose twitched.

She stopped instantly. One elongated ear swiveled forward. The other flattened back. Her moth-like antennae trembled with a very specific kind of warning, the kind that came not from anything outside her, but from something building quietly within. The foxfire stilled. Even they seemed to know. No. No, no, no. The tickle sharpened, crawling up the bridge of her nose with the particular cruelty of something that could not be argued with. Her neon-streaked mane gave a faint, involuntary glow. The water lilies blooming from her chest flickered. Her butterfly wings, bright neon and entirely uncooperative, gave one sharp flutter and shed a fine sprinkle of glowing dust into the air around her. Don't. Don't do this right now. Her face scrunched. Her whole body tensed. The foxfire scattered."AAACHOO!"

Poof!

The magic didn't wait for permission. Neon green and gold erupted from her all at once, a full-body detonation of fairy dust that swallowed her whole, pouring from her wings, her mane, the brand on her shoulder, the lilies at her chest, every inch of her blazing briefly like something newly born. The world didn't fade. It snapped, colors folding inward, air bending at angles that had no business existing, the meadow she'd been standing in peeling away mid-breath. In less than a second, there was nothing. And then Silence.

Tipsy dropped onto soft ground with a light, graceless thud, hooves sinking slightly into thick grass. The last of the fairy dust drifted off her in slow, dissipating spirals. The foxfire, scattered to nothing a moment ago, began reassembling itself around her one small flame at a time, drifting back into orbit as if returning from a brief personal errand, unbothered. "...Ow," she groaned.

She stayed still for a moment, blinking once, twice, letting her grey eyes adjust, and her antennae settle. Then she looked up. The grass beneath her hooves was thick and impossibly green, rolling outward into gentle hills scattered with wildflowers in every color she could name and several she couldn't. A breeze moved through it all, soft and unhurried, carrying the scent of something warm and floral and faintly sweet, the kind of spring air that felt less like weather and more like a decision someone had made on her behalf.

Tipsy rose slowly and turned in a full circle, ears moving, antennae tasting the air, foxfire resuming its idle float around her shoulders as though nothing had happened at all. "...Okay." She expels, squinting at the horizon. Rolling hills. Wildflowers. A lavender field in the distance, deep and violet, stretching toward something large and old at its center, a tree, she thought, though tree felt like an insufficient word for something that seemed to take up that much of the sky. The horizon did not explain itself. It offered nothing. It simply was, serene and unhelpfully beautiful. She stared at it for a long moment.

"...Where am I." Not quite a question. Not quite not one either. She said it the way someone says a thing they already suspect the answer to, flat and careful, buying time while the rest of her caught up. A foxfire flame drifted forward ahead of her toward the lavender, slow and curious. She watched it go and did not call it back.

feeling lucky today, got the sunshine; any

Sun, 09 Nov 2025 14:06:18 +0000

take a deep breath and jump then fall

Sun, 09 Nov 2025 14:02:34 +0000

Myrna
suffocate the fire i started--------------------
right when it kindles

The rain blurs the seasons together, bursts and showers watering the ever-blooming Gates, the downfalls dimming briefly - but never intently - the brilliant colors around her. Bright and blurred, time passes by, summer in autumn, year into year.

Myrna, wearing a pair of sapphire blue pegasus wings, watches a storm fade with the sun over the western sea, and knows the evening ahead will be a rare dry one. An empty one too, she thinks as she turns east toward the darkening hills. Ravin and Luvi are no longer foals in need of her comfort, and the few friends Myrna has are occupied this evening with their own families and past times.

It should be peaceful, she knows. She should be content.

There is nothing she might wish for that she does not already have. She no longer even wishes to change the past, knowing that to change it would be to lose what she has now. There is no place she wishes to go, no magic she wishes to possess, no power she desires to wield.

It is as if that thought makes the crown she wears weigh just a little heavier, the leaves and florals drooping amongst her spiral horns. Myrna lowers her head, slipping it off with an ease she knows must be the crown’s magic.

She is a queen because she must be, and the sense of responsibility that keeps her wearing the flower crown is the one thing that keeps her from knowing true happiness.

There will come a day when she finds someone to pass it to, someone who wants it.

For now though? For now she glances at the waxing moon in the clear sky, growing brighter as the sky dims. When she looks down, a pair of eyes the same shade as the sky overhead meet hers. She is not as alone this evening as she had thought, it seems.

“Ruhr,” she says by way of greeting.

“Viszla,” he replies. The name no longer sounds strange on his lips, not after all these years. She knows the story now, has pieced together her fragmented memories with what the Moon had shown him. No one else calls her that, and she prefers it that way.

She’s not sure which of them takes to sky first, but the Stratosian outpaces her as swiftly as he always does, looping back around to fly silently beside her as she sweeps upward. The wind streams through her flaxen mane, whistling past her spiral horns, carrying with it the scent of distant lands - not the floraled earth beneath her. For many hours they fly together, until the stars shine brightly in the sky, and Myrna’s worries remain bound to the earth far below.

But she cannot escape them forever, and when the muscles of her wings begin to ache, she begins to descend, spiraling down and down and down into the night-dark Gates.

Her heart is still thundering in her chest as she lands, her wings disappearing into her sides as she retakes her natural shape, her hooves touching down amidst the loamy soil and lavender. Ruhr is less graceful in his landing, his gait stilted by an old limp, but the pain she knows that he still sometimes feels doesn’t show in his expression as he turns his head to face her.

There is a familiar invitation in his eyes, the same one she often accepts after such flights. Myrna breathes deeply of the blossom filled air, and with a glance to her floral crown rests, decides to put off accepting the weight for a little while longer.

ooh; so tornai and mirai have an ic reason to exist!

And breathe me; any

Thu, 04 Sep 2025 13:30:42 +0000

The walk through her old home causes a slight chill along her spine but it’s from the excitement that bubbles like a life spring in her heart. The air is cool and crisp with the winter season but it feels warmer today and her fuzzy coat itches deep in her skin. October can feel a blossom of a smile crawling across her dark lips.

The buttermilk mare is nearly a creamy white with the thickness of her coat. She can feel a small longing for spring to shed the extra layer but perhaps it’s only because the winter day feels unseasonably warm. The Gates always drew out the best in her demeanor and she is eager to reestablish her devotion to the land.

It’s quiet on her walk aside from the crunch of her hooves over frozen blades of grass. She tips her dark nose up to scent for other equines. Hopefully there are others? A small, polite whinny is given to alert any who may hear as October cannot contain her excitement to return home.

-sworn to the gates

Blue Eyed Dreamer

Mon, 24 Feb 2025 18:31:58 +0000

Wynters had been looking for the twins, unsure when they were. They were normally around somewhere. Well luvi was normally around somewhere. Ravin could anywhere in Beqanna knowing in.

Cantering down the field towards the adults she pulled to a halt near her mother Have you seen Luvi? Or either of the twins? She asked her mother, who had been grazing.
No, why were you suppose to meet them? She asked. I mean we didn't have plans as such but we said yesterday about maybe going exploring. Your not going to object, are you? She asked her mother unsure.
Cascadia chuckled No, as long as you stick with one of them. she said seriously.

The two year old grinned Promise. Moving away a little bit she screamed both there names as loud as she could. The first time she'd done that they'd both come running in a panic.. now it was more normal for her to just be loud.

She winced as her shoulder burned, turning her head to look though showed nothing out of the ordinary. Strange, it had done that a few times now. Shaking herself to get rid of the odd feeling, it didn't hurt to walk so she ignored whilst waiting for the twins.

we're only taking turns holding this world

Sat, 15 Feb 2025 12:24:16 +0000

The palomino mare stands at the edge of the water, her pale eyes on the distant horizon. The flowers that bloom around her hooves add a sweet scent to the warm salt air, a perfume so familiar that the horned queen rarely notices it. Not so the presence of the flowers, growing from sprout to fluorescence in only moments wherever she sets her hooves, even in the shallow water and sand of the shore upon which she stands.

The magic of them is in her crown, the vining greenery that twists about Myrna’s own spiraling horns. The blossoming kingdom is reflected in the crown, or perhaps the kingdom mirrors the crown. She recalls discovering it, and it is that she thinks of as she watches dark clouds gather over the summer sea. A thunderstorm is coming.

The wind that brings in the storm tugs at Myrna’s white mane, which is unadorned now, though once she had rarely been seen without flowers of her own woven in. She is no longer the young mare that had first claimed the crown, though her pale coat hides the silvering of her hair, and her immortality, healing, and the presence of a magical waterfall that heals all ills make for a potent anti-aging blend.

It is the children that had made her feel her age, Myrna thinks, her mind turning to the twins Ravin and Luvi. They’re growing quickly, and Ravin - the bolder - has been venturing away from the Gates. How long will they stay, she wonders? She wants it to be forever, the way that Luvi says it will be, but she also knows that there is infinite time for change in the future. Someday, Luvi might want to leave. Someday Ravin might want to go to.

Does she want to go, Myrna wonders?
Is she still happy here?

She is content and safe and at peace here in the Gates.
But Happy?

In the depths of her heart, Mynra knows that it is not the Gates that is the issue. This is something within her, something that will not be mended by a change in location. She sighs, not wanting to think of that, and turns back in toward the heart of the kingdom. The storm will be on them within a few hours, so she is not especially quick as she wanders along well worn paths, her blue-grey eyes seeking company.

in love with being noticed and afraid of being seen; Wynters

Sat, 25 Jan 2025 21:08:41 +0000

Wynters mentioned Creatures again, Ravin’s eyes had widened in immediate interest. Though he’d opened his mouth to ask more, he’d suddenly tripped over nothing at all - or perhaps a well-placed leg of his twin, who didn’t want to disturb their new friend by asking questions about something Wynters had just said she hadn’t liked.

He’ll ask later, he decides. Or maybe he’d ask Cascadia. Adults seemed more willing to talk about scary things with him, he’s found.

Ravin watches the grass for the marks his sister leaves, and misses the shock on Wynters’ face until he looks over at the sound of her voice. He grins, both at her expression and the near-inaudibility of her words, and gives a helpful: “I dunno.” followed by a soft laugh.

When the sound fades, he does continue. “She did it accidentally at first, but has mostly learned to control it. But if you really spook her though, sometimes she’ll still go invisible without thinking about it.”

Ahead of them, Luvi reappears. Using both her invisibility and sublimation, she’d slipped unnoticed right up to the nest, and confirmed that the parent bird was away and that the eggs were still unhatched.

”Come on!“ She says in a normal voice, which still startles a dove that had been about to settle on a branch directly above her now-visible body. Ravin complies, glancing back to be sure that Wynters is coming.

i thought i'd make them a new thread? and eventually will make luvi her own profile lol

Where I'm from, the rivers run red (Myrna)

Wed, 13 Nov 2024 16:33:29 +0000

The painted mare follows a short way behind Myrna, into this new unfamiliar land. Her eyes taking in the scenes surrounding her. She smiles as she thinks of what sort of home her and Wynters could have. Rolling hills, that must be a vibrate green in the summer months, currently tipped with the frost of winter. Although the air here hardly feels like the freezing cloud of what winters back home were like in that barren infertile land she grew up in, where hardly anything grew.

As she nudges her foal gently, the action the only things keeping the exhausted foal going. Of course Myrna had offered to stop of either of them got tired but the thought of them being somewhere relatively safe when night fell kept her urging her foal on, perhaps the wrong decision but it was done now and she couldn't change the past. Her foal would be safe to drop into the deep sleep she so desperately needed here, and maybe she herself would be able to let her guard down a little, at least enough to rest and recover some much needed energy. At least she hoped that was correct. She hadn't sensed any deceit in Myrna and so she had chosen to trust the other mare, or at least as far as one could trust a stranger.

The black and white foal was only still moving due to her mother's insistent nudging. Her head dropped so low it was a wonder she didn't fall over herself in her exhausted state. Her bleary eyes only just able to see in front of her, it's a good thing her mother was also steering her trajectory as she could have easily walk into anything in her path.

cross the red river where it opens wide

Sat, 09 Nov 2024 17:26:24 +0000

When the flowers bloom throughout the year, it is hard for Ruhr to be sure of the season. The air that slips between his feathers has a chill to it, and the rippling waters in front of him are thick with fog. Probably winter then, or maybe late fall.

He takes one step forward, submerging one stockinged hoof into the still-warm water.

Nothing happens.

He takes another few steps forward, until all four feet are in the water. He can feel the faint current of it pushing against him toward the shore, the last push of the tumbling waterfall he cannot see through the pre-dawn light and the thick fog, but whose sounds drowns out the rest of the world around him.

Nothing continues to happen.

Ruhr looks up, trying to find the Moon overhead, but he can see nothing.

He sighs, and considers climbing back out of the water.

This was supposed to be a magical waterfall, one that healed any wound. And yet as he stands in the shallow water, the ever-present ache in his foreleg grows no quieter. Is there something else he is supposed to do, he wonders, some enchantment he should speak aloud? Ruhr knows little of the entity’s history, of the magic that infuses these waters. He knows only that it is strange, that it is something not of the Moon or Her magics.

But would it still work, he wonders, and the sunset-colored stallion takes another hesitant step deeper.

we're only taking turns holding this world

Sun, 29 Sep 2024 13:41:08 +0000

Luvi quickly takes the lead, her excitement causing her lightning to crackle and the feathers along her neck and shoulders to stand on end. Ravin is only a little behind, his growing wings flapping as though they might aid his speed as the pair of them barrel down the path toward the waterfall.

They’ve never come alone before, but the trail is the most well used in the Gates, and is worn and easy to follow. The sound of the waterfall can be heard long before it is seen, and the crash of water seems to spur them even faster, so much so that the pair of siblings are out of breath by the time they reach the edge of the shallows.

Feather, their mother’s companion who they’d promised to bring along, has found something of interest in the woods. She keeps an ear out, but for the most part, the pair know they have been left to their own devices.

For some time they play ‘Mighty Warriors’, and then at Ravin’s request it becomes a game of ‘Diplomats Who Must Become Mighty Warriors For Their Land Needs Them‘, and then Luvi complains of hunger. Ravin, giggling, suggests catching a fish, and soon the pair are splashing about in the water, leaping and splashing after too quick minnows.

my heart has started to separate

Sun, 29 Sep 2024 13:39:52 +0000

Both pairs of pleading young eyes are a stormy blue grey, though Ravin’s are only so because that is the shade of the sky overhead - full of clouds and the promise of rain. Myrna looks down into those eyes, her own narrowed as if in deep thought, as if denying their request is a significant possibility.

But her eyes soften, and are joined by a smile as she nods and laughs: Yes, yes you may go play in the waterfall, but you must watch out for each other, and you must not go too deep, and you must take Feather and no, no you may not ditch Feather if she herds you back from the deep water.

Twin nods of excitement agreement are the answer, and soon the sound of eight hooves, four paws, and two (still uselessly) flapping wings fades into the distance. Myrna turns from where she has watched them crest the hill, and slowly meanders back down a flower lined path on her way to nowhere in particular.

then you wake up for the sunrise

Sat, 31 Aug 2024 18:28:25 +0000

Myrna has not sought out the Stratosian, but she catches sight of him most days as he wheels overhead, circling and spinning through the cloudless autumn sky. Some of the tales he’d told her of his gift have been proven true as time passes, and she’d watched as his colorful coat grew paler and more dappled by the day.

Is he aging, though? She cannot confirm that, not from where she stands on the grassy hill near the center of the Gates.

She could join him, she thinks, and find the answer.

Should join him even. There are things she must tell him, and there are things that she wonders about asking him. Or perhaps asking the Moon.

Myrna shakes her golden head at the thought. Scoffing at her folly, she drops her gaze from the sky. No one can speak with the moon. Perhaps Ruhr had been truthful about the magic tying his color - and perhaps aging - to the moon, but he’d only been telling stories when it came to his visions.

Her gaze continues to fall, eventually landing on the long grasses that sway in the late autumn breeze. Her stomach growls at the sight of it, and soon she is devouring a second breakfast to satisfy both her own hunger and that of the life growing within her.

ooc: technically she should have already had the twins but time is fake so she's still newly preggo. open to anyone!

everything is simple

Mon, 08 Jul 2024 14:09:52 +0000

EVERCLEAR

-- a dreamer neither lost nor found ;

After his recent trip to the Mountain, Everclear had returned to the Gates somewhat puzzled. Something had certainly happened, but no immediate change had been apparent. The orb of light that had reached out to his brow had vanished between his eyes alongside the ethereal voice that had spoken into his mind, bidding him to “master these.” The object of that assignment had not been evident quite immediately, though over the course of the next few days it became somewhat more apparent.

It had begun as an itch upon his withers, insatiable and impossible to locate. Much as he had tried – twitching the muscles, rolling in the sand of the southern beach, raking his teeth across his flesh until his fur took on a different lie – the sensation would not leave him. The next dawn had revealed large lumps at the crest of each shoulder, tender to the touch and firm underneath with some sort of calcified mass.

Much as he wanted to trust the faeries and their magic, Everclear knows all too well that sometimes their tricks are not played in good faith. With age comes patience, though, and unparalleled acceptance of one’s fate. He had never asked for anything before and perhaps this was becoming some caution against unwarranted requests; or perhaps this was entirely unrelated.

Yet, about a week later, the truth became a little clearer when, finally, the growths had erupted into two hairless appendages. They were bare and tender to the touch, yet with time he had discovered the muscles which could move them. And in time they had begun to expose a multitude of quills which slowly unraveled to reveal silvery gray feathers.

The stallion had spent much of this time in seclusion, mildly embarrassed by the new-grown oddities until he realized what they truly were: rapidly developing wings.

His intrigue had grown then, as he had never quite desired flight in all his long years. He has seen countless others with such a gift, soaring and diving and embracing and sparring with the feathered appendages, but he had never imagined himself with a pair. Yet, as he glances at them now (still fledging and unusable at present), he wonders what it might feel like to travel airborne.

Wandering now from his hiding place within the trees of the Gates, he keeps the small limbs folded close so that the appear as little more than a bunch of pale feathers at his back, some strange sort of ruff at the base of his neck. And luckily there is a familiar figure nearby that catches his eye, a welcomed distraction.

“Deiti,” he greets her with mild surprise and, admittedly, the smallest hint of trepidation. “I had expected you might have moved on by now…” A quick glance, trying to garner her state of mind now that they are met in better lighting (the soft light of a winter’s sunrise struggles to break through a thin blanket-layer of clouds overhead). “...Have you found any peace in your struggle?” While it feels a bit uncouth to be so forthright, he still bears her goodwill and hopes that perhaps she had discovered some way to cope with the internal conflict she had displayed before.

He can still remember the fear in her voice and prays that by now it has left her.