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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


    soldier keep on marching on; Dayé
    #1

    It had been a day that should have been as any other. Should have been a day easily forgotten, lost to the recesses of his seemingly endless memories. She is one of hundreds. He has come to know so many, each as forgettable as the last in the end. He should have forgotten her already too. But somehow he hasn’t. She has become one of the few. The one’s he could not seem to shake.

    He had not searched for her, not really. She had challenged him, and for a moment, the temptation had been great. Greater than he would have cared to admit. It has been ages since he was last faced with such allure. But she is so young, still so much to learn of the world. And he has seen too much of it. Enough to know he would endure and she, despite her lovely tenacity and brazen challenge, would be all too fleeting.

    Maybe he is wrong, as she had said. But he does not truly believe so.

    Despite his knowledge, his own stubborn beliefs, he still watches. Perhaps he does not search, but the subtle flash of golden sunlight on water captures his attention, the faint glimmer of a vibrant giohde draws his eye, his thoughts straying. Wondering if it is perhaps her golden blue. It never isn’t, but still he looks.

    Even today, when he catches a glimpse of that hue, faint yet distinctive, he banks sharply from the draft he had been floating upon. It’s illogical, and yet he finds himself scanning the ground far beneath him, searching the sparse vegetation and red, craigy rocks. Drawing up slowly, he follows a trail downward, taking his time in the descent. When finally he lands upon the borders of the rocky kingdom, it is with a grace derived from practice.

    It’s a fools errand, but still he stands, silent. Perhaps in another breath or so, he would leave. Fly into the heavens once more and forget this moment as he has so many others. If it was not her, if she had not seen him as he spiraled down (if she hadn't even cared), there is nothing for him here anyway.

    quiet now, you're gonna wake the beast

    hide your soul out of his reach

    Hurricane



    @[Dayé]




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