Beqanna - The Gates

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.

I'm Gonna Own This Curse[Any]

Sun, 30 Jun 2024 13:25:55 +0000

Escence & Eviction

~Twin Flame~

His journey from the northern edge of Pangea is long. The run in with his family puts him at ease just the slightest. At least they now knew what happened to them, and what current events have taken place.

There is only a mild confidence that his father had not been aware of the visit. An equally small certainty that his twin flame is alive and well. The worried thoughts eat away at his core as he travels.

Go as far south as you can go and when you see fields of lavender you'll be there…

When he reaches the end of their world, there is nothing but a vast aquifer before him. He stands on the sandy beaches, black eyes cast across the open sea. A gull calls from above, willing his masked face to rise to the sky.

He snorts in frustration, bringing his head now to turn left, then pan right. There were no lavender fields anywhere in sight.

Drawing in a deep breath, he picks up a faint scent. “Mother?” He whispers to himself. There was a hint of lavender coming from the west and he wonders if she has followed him.

Lunging into a powerful gallop he follows the heavenly scent getting stronger with each stride. Soon he is crossing the river where it empties into the sea. The brackish waters douse his black fetlock flames; only when he reaches the other side do they reignite on the sea grass flat.

He stops then, his gaze trailing from the ocean shores, to the lavender tinted plains. The smile he held vanishes when he realizes it was not the scent of his mother that he followed here.

The dark flames flicker casually around his body. Gone is the vibrant orange glow of his red mane and tail. Instead they are illuminated a ghastly black, along with his eyes. Their dark glow scans the horizon, seeking any sort of life form.

Open to anyone : )
*Note: He is harboring disease from his father's blight in Pangea. It may transfer to anyone who touches him or anything he touches, unknowingly.

we lay here for years or for hours, so long we become the flowers

Sat, 22 Jun 2024 23:09:01 +0000

Ruhr had watched the shapeshifter slip beneath the sea, and for a long time afterward had stood on the lonely stretch of beach, watching the sun climb over the horizon and turn the sky from grey to watercolor. The Moon rises with it, a full pale orb in the lavender and rose-pink sky. He watches as the clouds thin, as the plovers and pipers begin to dart across the sand and sky. He listens to the high thin cry of the gulls, and breathes deeply of the scent of golden meadows that blows from inland.

He turns toward the scent, feeling for the first time the ache of his empty belly, and makes his limping way up the beach and into the Gates. Ruhr does not venture too far from the sea, soon finding a shaded meadow and a clear sweet pond along a well-traveled path.

It does not take long for him to doze off, physically exhausted from his flight and lack of sleep, lulled by the warm air and a full belly.

He wakes to find a pretty stranger keeping watch as he sleeps.

She doesn’t even stay long enough to introduce herself after he wakes, only long enough to accept his thanks, and he spends the rest of the afternoon meandering slowly through the coastal lands. Not far from the trail that leads back to the beach, the feathered stallion stumbles across a perfectly circular pool.

A Sign. Could it really be?

He looks up, finding the Moon almost directly overhead. She has a vision for him, and he positions himself so that the glowing orb is centered in the water.

Ruhr watches his reflection. His eyes are as blue as the sky overhead, lacking any hint of clouds. He blinks, and his reflection blinks. Ruhr turns his head a little to the left.

His reflection does not.

Ruhr stops, feeling his breath catch in his chest.

At last. A vision. He had been right in interpreting the sign. She has forgiven him at last, has found him fit to grant Her sight. He breathes a sigh of relief, a smile turning up the edges of his mouth.

His reflection shakes its head, and as he lowers his head closer to the water, he sees that it is not quite his reflection. The feathers are the same - the shades of sunset - but the eyes are lighter, and the face is slimmer. The face transforms into a younger version, and he sees the whole body now, sees that it is a girl, sees her playing, jumping and kicking and gallivanting.

She catches up to another horse, one that he cannot quite make out. Her mother, Ruhr knows, the horse that he cannot see is the child’s mother. His child’s mother.

Please, He asks the Moon, show me the rest.

She does not answer, and the vision fades.

For a long time afterward, Ruhr remains staring into the circular pool.

Ruhr has no desire for a child, but as he stares into the empty depths, he is forced to admit to himself that the Moon’s desires supercede his own. The moment he acknowledges this to himself, a new vision appears.

The stallion straightens, peering into the water as the image of the young filly returns. This time, the vision expands, pulling back to show him the same palomino mare he’d met earlier in the day. Ruhr’s black eyes widen in recognition, and then the vision vanishes into darkness.

It is not a request that he would have expected from the Moon.
But who is he to say no?

ooc: part of an autoquest!

i hear the voice of rage and ruin

Thu, 13 Jun 2024 18:35:34 +0000

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

Myrna looks out over her homeland.

The rolling hills of the Gates are lush and green, and amongst the thick grasses are countless flowers. Flowers that blossom as she walks through them, even the early spring and late autumn florals opening in the presence of the Crown of the Gates. The floral headpiece hands between her spiraling horns, the same summer flowers decorating the twining green and brown branches.

A curious swallow passes by, drawn by the bees that flutter about the pale palomino mare. Myrna whickers a quiet greeting, but the little bird does not linger for long. Alone again, she continues through the meadow, lulled by the sound of birdsong and the warm summer breeze as it drifts across the kingdom.

Though she looks now and then for familiar faces, she does not seek anyone out. If they want to talk, they will find her, and if they do not: she is content to wander beneath the warm sun. Perhaps later she will doze in the sweetly-scented shade of the Mother Tree, or chase Feather through the stream.