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    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


    [mature]  I tried to sell my soul last night; any
    #3

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    He’s just laying there, minding his own damned business, when suddenly he is very aware he is not alone anymore. His eyes are are still closed against the sun, so how can he tell, you might ask? He’s fucking psychic.

    Nah, just kidding, not really. But whoever it is is not exactly the stealthiest cat on the planet. Or horse, as the case may be. The thump of hooves against solid earth and the soft whooshing of wings breaking air are a dead giveaway. He still recognizes wings when he hears them. He’d had wings once. Back when he’d still been a massive dick and had actually given two shits about kingdom life. He’d risen pretty damn far in the ranks too, won a few battles, tweaked a few noses, romanced a few ladies.

    Fortunately he’s not that same douche anymore. He’s a different sort of douche now. One who can’t even be bothered to look at who had landed near him. I mean, if they quietly meandered off without saying anything, he’d be golden.

    But then, luck has never been on his side. Why should now be any different?

    The soft, feminine voice causes one ear to twitch as he hears her steps draw nearer. Hot damn. Well, no real gentleman (if you can actually call him that) keeps a lady waiting. Or ignores her. Whatever.

    Cracking his lids, he lifts his head from the smashed grass and peers at the pale mare for a moment before dropping his head back to the earth with a groan. Damn, the poor wench actually looks a bit hopeful. Now he has to get up. So much for his lazy day.

    But hey, maybe he could turn this around. She’s a cute enough little bit.

    In a sudden burst of movement, he has righted himself and managed to heave his tall, lanky frame to a standing position. Stretching his head forward, he braces himself to shake violently, loosing a cloud of dust from his dappled skin. Finally he turns piercing brown eyes to the winged mare, tilting his head curiously as a faintly cynical (yet oddly charming) smile quirks his lips. “Well, I might consider forgiving you if you tell me your name, love.”

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    RE: I tried to sell my soul last night; any - by Ashhal - 02-16-2018, 11:45 AM



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