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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


    Tell me your stories; Popinjay
    #4
    How to even begin?

    The young mare only laughs in reply, taking the advantage of Lethy's surprise to regain her lead, turning sharply and darting off into the undergrowth. She has always been nimble and sure-footed, and now is no exception, black legs finding solid ground easily, never fully committing to the shadows below the ferns until slate-grey hooves feel the firmness of earth beneath them. Leaping over one of the many fallen logs inside their woods and weaving around the great grey boulders, she maintains an steady curve until her path slowly, slowly, brings her up behind and beside Lethy once again where, dancing close, she lets her teeth scrape playfully across the mare's golden skin. Her breath comes in great gasps, nostrils flaring as they run until they are both exhausted, cascading out of the trees into one of Taiga's rocky meadows where only the only burnt husks of trees reach into the sky, no longer bearing leaves.

    As they slow at last, the lazy sun of a winter's sunrise just peaking through fire-darkened trunks, she matches her stride to her mother's, though the taller mare's stride is longer and Poppy must work to maintain it. She does not mind the work though, tail flagging and dark eyes shining brightly in the grey light of the rising sun. It is not until their pace finally comes to a walk that she even remembers the question at hand, the scars dripping down her left flank. She has nearly forgotten them, the pain long gone and only the occasional pull of scar tissue. The red flesh of her healed burns is not as elastic as the black skin it has replaced. Her ear turns back towards the scars, considering them oh so briefly - she can only just see them without turning her head.

    "I've been everywhere!" She says between excited breaths, exhaled in clouds that break up into nothing as the two mares press forward into them, "And it was only a bit of lava," she frowns, remembering, but just for a moment before then grin returns, "Anyway, most of it rolled off the mud before it burned."


    Popinjay
    She was not quite what you would call refined


    @[Izora Lethia] sorry this took so long!
    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    Tell me your stories; Popinjay - by Izora Lethia - 11-04-2019, 09:46 PM
    RE: Tell me your stories; Popinjay - by Popinjay - 11-06-2019, 09:56 AM
    RE: Tell me your stories; Popinjay - by Popinjay - 11-13-2019, 11:44 AM



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