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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


    i don't have my head on straight ; starsin
    #2

    and let me crawl inside your veins. I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain.

    To her, Loess was far from boring. But then again, she really had a penchant for just interjecting herself wherever she felt like it. She created her entertainment if there wasn’t any to be found, and she always appeared oblivious to the feathers she ruffled in the process. Tossing lit matches onto dry kindling was almost a hobby of hers, and Loess it turned out was just full of  brittle things begging to be caught on fire.

    Most of her time she feels as though is spent inspecting newcomers and visitors, and this morning when dawn broke across the sky, she began to make her way towards one of the rocky ledges that she found most suitable for scouting. In the dim light of the early morning her star-like dapples glowed vibrantly, and her dark blue eyes peered keenly from behind her sable forelock. She did not make it to her destination that morning, as the winds shifted and a familiar scent drifted to her. For a moment, she pauses, her elegant head cocked askew as though she was considering whether or not to seek out the scent, or keep going.

    Her curiosity gets the better of her, as it so often did, and it is not long before she is approaching the swarthy man. The blood that had began to drip from her nostrils a few days ago had dried and flecked away, and whatever remnants were left behind seemed to nearly blend with her nearly black muzzle. But the cough that she had been fighting, and the way her cobalt eyes were glassy with fever, was enough to show that the sudden strengthening of plague had finally clutched her in its ruthless grasp. “Good morning, Oxytocin.” Her honey-liked voice had a faint rasp to it, her throat raw from the coughing fits that kept her up at night. It didn’t keep her from curling her lips into a sweet smile, tilting her gaze up to meet his when shes says to him, “You seem bored. We should fix that.”

    starsin

    it’s not like me to be so mean. you’re all I wanted.
    ( just let me hold you Like a hostage. )



    @[Oxytocin]


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: i don't have my head on straight ; starsin - by Starsin - 04-24-2019, 02:34 AM



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