• Logout
  • 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


    There was a birch tree in the field; Misra
    #1

    The sun is invisible to the Budyonny, but he can still feel its rays upon his dark coat....feel them too well in fact.  It was summer now, and his black fur is nearly as damp as if he'd taken a dip in the fishing stream located back in Taiga.  Siberian is thankful when at last the atmosphere of the too-long trail that leads to the Forest begins to feel much cooler, no doubt due to the enshrouding trees overhead.  Shuffle-walking beneath the verdant canopy, he keeps in position by letting the prickly foliage that lined the walkway warn him if he was beginning to lose the curve of the path.  There was someone else aside from Azar that he needed to find, now that he had a home to offer; though he does fret over how this meeting might go.  It had been a long time since they'd last seen each other, and what if she was happily settled in a home of her own, possibly even with another stallion who had claimed her heart?


    What-ifs would drive one crazy if given free rein, and with a snort, Siberian dismisses his before they can take root in his mind.  He was going to find her, and discover true answers, not be ruled by the twin demons of anxiety and doubt.  He pauses, casting his muzzle one direction and then another.  Where might the silvery mare be?  He remembers Misra's scent, treasures it more than any other's in his memory, and when a faint tendril teases his nose, the bear-shifter hones in on it as if he had canine tendencies in place of ursine.  His ears are hard at work as well, listening for the distinctive way that she breathed, for the faint sound of wing-feathers rustling against soft fur.  Coming close, he stumbles despite his best efforts (probably having to do with how his heart has begun to hammer in his chest) and stops to catch himself before he engages in a rather embarrassing and painful tumble.  When the blind horse speaks, it is to utter one word, a quivering hope brought to life.  "Misra? "

    Siberian

    The sexy grizzly boy of Beqanna

    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    There was a birch tree in the field; Misra - by Siberian - 04-06-2017, 07:48 PM
    RE: There was a birch tree in the field; Misra - by Misra - 05-15-2017, 06:43 PM
    RE: There was a birch tree in the field; Misra - by Misra - 06-03-2017, 09:34 PM
    RE: There was a birch tree in the field; Misra - by Misra - 07-03-2017, 03:23 PM



    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)