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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    a dark mythos; wyrm
    #1
    Long ago, he came to her in the field.
    Then he came for her in the forest.

    She followed him from forest to wasteland where he rose up from the unranked masses to become a king. Gave him twin sons and now can feel another fester in her womb, and it had been she that came for him - asked him to give her another because they made such pretty nightmarish things. It is this sensation of fetal plantation and growth that stirs in her a need to break away from the choking dust and dimness of Pangea.

    Sinew goes back to where it started, not back to the very beginning just back to the forest.
    Something about the tall tall trees and the dark greenness that beckons to her, so vast in its differences from the barren cliffs of Pangea. Maybe it is the forest’s fecundity that calls to her - to her own fecundity, to the point that she feels rich and earthy like the very ground she walks on. She comes upon a curious fork in the path between the trees; a fainter trail used not by them - horses, but more likely predators who leave less of a trace than the bigger bulkier animals do.

    The chestnut overo mare looks at each branch in the trail - one is more plainly laid and heavily used, but the other is not and the mark of it is faint and growing over with grass. Instinctively she takes the lesser traveled trail, the route of which leads her further from their own places of ingress and towards those places that are more shadowy, even predatory in their look. She comes across the remains of an elk on the trail, most of the meat having been stripped away and little remains of the fur. Just a branching beautiful rack of antlers and bones that pale and mossed over.

    Her black eyes focus on the femur bone; it is the only one picked perfectly clean and not yet showing the subtle creeping of moss and forest that reaches forth to claim the skeleton for its own. She seems like she could be caught easily unaware, but her ears are on a constant swivel for changes in the forest’s noise. Femur, she thinks, that is a good strong name for the foal forming inside her.
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    Messages In This Thread
    a dark mythos; wyrm - by sinew - 03-06-2017, 02:32 PM
    RE: a dark mythos; wyrm - by Wyrm - 03-06-2017, 10:35 PM



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