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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


    there is never a day that goes by; spink pony
    #5

    Boldness has never been his style, nor has he ever been particularly drawn to it. He had been born of a simpler time, a time when these exotic colors did not exist and power was rare. When the plain and mundane by today's standards was unique and beautiful. The world might have changed, but his preferences certainly have not.

    So when the bright skin falls away to reveal a new mare, one as lovely in form but cloaked in gray and black rather than blue and pink, he is intrigued. Of course, she is still a magician. It is how she had so easily changed herself to suit her whims, but this other mare, with her he could almost pretend.

    A wiser man would not want to pretend. A wiser man would simply turn and go, leaving her with her misery and broken power for company. But as it turns out, he is not as wise as he should have been. Or perhaps, he has simply been too long without companionship. Even he cannot escape the basic need and desire for company that reside (perhaps buried deeply, but there nevertheless) within every equine.

    So when she replies, somewhat pithily in his estimation, to his rather blunt question, he only responds with a low grunt, his flinty gaze clearly disbelieving. Of course, as she could read his mind, she would already know he does not play games.

    She continues then, her commentary finally coming to a close on a question. He does not answer immediately, instead taking the moments of silence to stare at her in open consideration, dark eyes inscrutable within the pale mask off his face. Her features, coming to heel beneath the open wielding of her power, shift from gray to a vibrantly dappled blue that he instantly dislikes.

    With the flick of an ear, he settles his weight, shifting so that one hoof rests in a deceptively relaxed manner. Finally, he offers a quietly grunted, “I preferred you better the other way,” before shrugging and continuing on in the vein of their former conversation.

    “Happenstance.” He pauses in consideration before clarifying, “If you must know, my home is gone and fate has set me adrift.”

    there is never a day that goes by

    that is a good day to die

    Hurricane

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    RE: there is never a day that goes by; spink pony - by Hurricane - 06-11-2017, 10:39 PM



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