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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


    They Say you Can See Her...
    #1
    DESPAYR
    At Night she Walks the Beaches...
    Days turned into weeks, weeks to months... And now here she was.  Heavy, tired... Constant pain.  When would it end?  Surely it must end...

    Her only sanctuary was the sandy beaches.  The weight wasn't as straining on the soft sands.  The to and fro of waves lapping the shores soothed her pains.  A constant stabbing today, much more constant.  She stood now fore walking exhausted her breath.  Two toned orbs focused on the endless blue of the horizon, lost in its abyss.  Her pain for a moment was lost in the vastness.  For a moment it faded, but just as there is a calm there was a storm to follow...

    To feel as though your body is being ripped open from the inside out is undescribable.  It's the kind that sends you to your knees, gasping for air as you try to remember how to breathe.  To stand is impossible.  Under the intense wave of agony she collapses to the sands.  Uncomfortable from the expansion of her ribs she lays anyway.  Heaving chest to collect air as quickly as possible.  Gaze landing upon the seas once more, begging for relief.  More pain came over her as instincts instructed her farther.  A need, an urge to push...

    As quickly as it came on it ended.  The pain dulled, pressure relieved.  Instantly she found herself breathing easier.  Nares drew in the salty air and new scents.  Her crown lifted from the sands, twisting to view the cause for so much stress.  A messy ball of black and silver lie nearly motionless.  Footing was found and she rose quickly.  Muzzle brushing against the damp hide of her newborn.  Quickly she cleaned his delicate face.  Wiping away the sand from his eyes.  Slowly they opened and much to her dismay they were not his father's eyes... They were not crimson red, nor were they an earth tone brown but a pure ocean blue.  A mixture of deep navy and sky hues beautifully displayed on his pied face.  Marking similar to her own but in an unique color.  She dotted upon him for a few moments more then softly whispered a name, "Imperial is what I'll call you."  
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    #2

    I'm just a poor boy. I need no sympathy.
    ( because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low )

    He had been watching her, like a hawk watches his prey. She was his, and as she grew plumper, and the seed inside her grew bigger he had grown more possessive. Throwing away his duties to watch her, and stalking after her through the blood drenched canyons of his homeland. But lately she had been walking upon the coast, where the obsidian sands meet the salty brine of sea water. 

    She walks, and he follows, at a distance, his crimson gaze stilled upon the horizon, upon her, until she belly's over like a beached whale. Laying upon the ground helpless, and pathetic, and he watches, concealing himself, as he nears closer. The nares of his nostrils flare, as her blood is spilled upon the sand of Pangea, causing chills to run down his spine. And as he nears he finds, an entanglement of silver hair, and dark chocolate fur. A son, and he has a name imperial. 

    And, as the dolphin  girl speaks his name he appears, peering over at the little boy intently with ruby gems. And with rough vocals, he expelled his words. "You did well, but he's weak, I expected more." He speaks, words enthralled with some form of anger. "Where is his power, his eyes?" He growls, he wanted son yes. But he wanted a pureblood a child with blood red eyes, and something else, something powerful. A son he could use as an asset. "I need more." He snaps. 

    Digging his pearly white teeth into her withers, aggressively before he storms off. He was expecting something far greater than what he got.

    waylan

    any way the wind blows        doesn't really matter to me

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    #3
    DESPAYR
    At Night she Walks the Beaches...
    He'd be lurking... Somewhere, in some form.  This she was sure.  Having showed up in his home she found herself somehow owned.  Her mind told her to fight it but she grew tired easily these days. Exhausted now she waited.  Doing her part but knowing her moment of happiness was to be short lived.  As she cleaned her son's, their sons face and upon seeing the lack of reddness in his eyes she knew it was to be short lived.  She sighed heavily.  This would displease him much.  At least it was a son, which may be his only saving grace...

    No sooner thought he appeared. In the ghostly way he always did.  His judging eyes burned her slightly cause she knew what was to come.  Harsh words of disapproval followed by pain. Like she could alter the results to favor his command.  She had no control over these things.  The foal was perfect in every way but he would only see the lack of desired traits he commanded.  As he circled them like a vulture she held a gaurded position.  Trying to deflect what pain was to come from the foal to herself.  He did not deserve such treatment.  It was not his fault, but her own...

    And it came as she expected.  The words... The pain... But just as quickly as it came it left. She watched him leave them there... Alone... But alive... 
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