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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


    best have your wits about you [Astarael]
    #6

    Astarael
    herald of death

    It was amusing to her, the self–righteous gleam in her nephew’s gaze. It was exceedingly clear to her that he sought to chastise her, to see her run home with her tail tucked between her legs. Sadly, he would be sorely disappointed. Snickering darkly, she squeezed her aura tighter around him. This, being their first meeting, she was not surprised to find him to be another of her father’s ass-kissers. She’d never been one to enjoy family reunions much. To her, it had become all too clear to her that family was a convenience. Only valued when the other had something of value. Loneliness had plagued her as a child – years wasted as she watched her father dote upon her siblings who had been born blessed. And what was she? A gift-less filly dumped on the shores of an island. Even her own mother hadn’t wanted to waste her time upon the likes of her. Brennen, the revered, hadn’t proved to be much better than her. What a joke.
     
    “Do you truly believe that I care what Brennen thinks?” She hissed. Stopping before him she allowed the hilarity of his comment to bubble up from the depths of her. She laughed, a cruel sounding expression of glee. “Go ahead, take your message back with you to Ischia. Do us all a favor and shove it up his ass. Tell him all the ways that he has failed me.”
     
    She spat in his face. “You disgust me, nephew.” Her red strings of light danced around the frame of the black stallion, pulsing in time to the sound of her vocals. As she continued her circling she inched closer, allowing the tips of her wings to dig into the soft of his flesh. “You Ischians insist on remaining loyal to a king who, quite obviously, could care less about you. Haven’t you figured it out by now? Jesper, you are disposable – a bargaining tool. Why else would you find yourself here? Your beloved Brennen was not ignorant of our intentions and, yet, he chose to ignore the risk and makes no attempt to liberate you from our grasp. It’s shameful, really.”
     
    The ice of her words paired with the tickling influence of her fear aura was a powerful tool. Although she knew her influence would fade the moment she parted from him, she reveled in the moment. Hungrily she awaited the doubt that she knew would start to form in the depths of his eyes.

    Darling, you have no idea what's possible...


    @[Jesper]
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    RE: best have your wits about you [Astarael] - by Astarael - 05-29-2018, 10:05 AM



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