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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


    from a pen made of steel and reflection of hope; nev-pony
    #4
    Arcane laughed and danced through the swirling snow, keeping it suspended in the air and just letting it shimmer and dance right along with him as he frolicked through it. It swirled around him with a happy little swoosh and swoop and sway, and just generally delighted him with its sparkly, twinkly beauty. Oh! Until a tiny little voice from up above made him stop and look up, eyes wide with curiosity.

    “Oh, hello! I didn’t know birds could talk!” Could he hover like this? Oh probably, so he gave a sassy little hop and hovered straight up to the branch the bird was perched on. “Hi, good question! I think right now I’m only kinda dead. But I’m not quite alive yet either, or at least not independently alive! But my heart beats, when it can. I don’t think it can like this, ‘cause listen!” he invited, with a nod at his chest. Not that she could press her ear to it anyhow.

    Did birds have ears?

    Well nevermind that! “Hey, hi, so I’m Arcane! Or at least I mean that’s what Mom dreams my name as sometimes, and I like that a whole lot better than Who The Hell Are You and AHHHHHWHATHOW? so. Arcane! That’s me! Do you got a name? Do birds get names? Ooooh, I could name you if you need one! Something pretty, huh? ‘cause birds are real pretty, especially your kind. I like birds! Do you like not-birds? Specifically not quite dead but not quite alive yet boy not-birds with four legs and two eyes and a tail and a nose and look I got a tongue too,” he stuck it out and crossed his eyes, trying to look at it, but his nose was in the way.

    So he shrugged and uncrossed his eyes and added, “Least I’m pretty sure I got one. Hey, do you? Birds have tongues, right, or how did you talk to me?”
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    RE: from a pen made of steel and reflection of hope; nev-pony - by Arcane - 11-21-2018, 07:03 PM



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