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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


    I smile in the face of fear; Lynx
    #11


    She has experienced so many things in her times with Fox.

    Annoyance, perhaps, first and foremost. Annoyance at his insistence to be constantly cheerful. To constantly push past her boundaries. To be so stubborn and forceful into her life.

    And then disbelief. Disbelief because he was so clearly different from anyone she has ever known. Anything she had ever been taught to be the norm. She was surrounded by such loud voices, such ugly thoughts, such dark desires, and he was a ray of sunshine—something pure and beautiful and light.

    She had experienced heat and passion with him. Something he had discovered within her. Something that he had invited into the open. something freeing in his touch, in his attention.

    She had experienced joy. Pure, unadulterated joy at the coming of their daughter.

    And now contentment.

    It was dizzying to think about it, exhausting to fight it, and she gives into it as he rubs along her neck, as he presses more and more insistently into the darkest nooks and crannies of her heart. She sighs as his words. “I know,” she breathes, thinking of her parents. Of her deep, undying love for her mother—for the woman who had always tried so hard for them. Of her unwavering fury at her father’s failure.

    But she wasn’t them.

    And this wasn’t that.

    She closes her eyes and leans into his side, curls there, soft and quiet for once. She feels his thought as they wash over her, his protectiveness and gentleness her final undoing. She presses her cheek into the strength of his shoulder, closing her eyes as a single tear falls unbidden. “I love you, Fox,” she whispers, and she hopes its soft enough that he can’t hear it. “I hate you for it, but I do. I love you.”

    and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires





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