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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 don't have my head on straight ; khuma
    #1
    He has spent so much time lately just blending into the background, concentrating on raising his unruly sons and daughter, and he finds something within himself stirring curiously as his younglings finally grow old enough to be on their own again. He doesn’t question the compulsion that drives him from Loess’s borders and deep into the Forest, simply letting his mind wander as he tramps recklessly through the neutral grounds. It wasn’t that long ago that he had ventured into the Meadow and found not just Rowe, but Xiah as well, and he smirks at the thought of the two women. They had been good enough fucks, but then they had dumped their spawn upon him and disappeared. He enjoys the presence of his children, but the women were useless, just tools. They were gone as quickly as they had come.

    He longs for decent, quiet conversation and perhaps that is a sign that he is surely aging. Children are good fun but they are not great conversationalists – and his eldest daughter, Cress... well, she is too wrapped up in her own mind to worry about her old man. They talk daily, something he could not have claimed before a year ago, and though they are close he grows weary of being constantly surrounded by his family and nothing else. He has hardly met the others of Loess but he doesn’t find himself caring as much about it as he would have in his youth.

    A branch snaps under his heavy hooves and he pauses in both his movement and thoughts, glancing around curiously before continuing on his self-made path. He is aimless, bored, but he knows that something has driven him here and away from his home. It doesn’t take him long to traverse the entire wood, and he stops on the bank of the river, lowering his head to sip at the cold waters. The day is a gentle one – neither too hot nor too cold, and though he is tempted to cross the river into the Meadow to find his favorite napping tree, he resists.  

    So there he stands until the sunlight begins to fade, a stoic black-and-white shadow against the setting sun.

    @[Khuma] ugh this is weird and i'm bad at starters
    immune.
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    Messages In This Thread
    i don't have my head on straight ; khuma - by Oxytocin - 04-16-2019, 11:29 PM



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