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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


    stranger in this land; colby pony
    #11
    Sochi

    darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
    maybe you need me or maybe you don't

    His answer intrigues her, although she had suspected he might say as much, and the corners of her lips turn up in an almost wolfish smile. “I can’t imagine why not,” she quips lightly, although there is not much humor on her harsh features. She has spent too long hiding the truth of herself to feel joy at the idea of another doing the same. She cannot imagine what it must be like to live such a transient life—never sticking to one place for long, never letting another see you—but there is part of her that respects it.

    Even longs for such an independent and lonely life.

    Still, she doesn’t reveal such thoughts, weaknesses that they are, and instead studies him with the same cool detachment, her silvery eyes unreadable. At his next line of questioning, she merely rolls a scarred shoulder, flicking the edges of her tail against her haunches. “I don’t feel like I am choosing sides anymore.” A quick curve of her lip. “Perhaps once I felt that way, but now both are me, and I wear the form that makes the most sense for the moment. They do not battle against one another any longer.”

    She no longer is ashamed of her predatory body, her predatory needs.

    She no longer is ashamed of the weakness of her body of prey.

    She feels a strange calm at the realization, a balance that she hadn’t even realized that she had been trying to find that had somehow clicked into place when she wasn’t even looking.

    “If you would ever like to find a place to rest—a place where you do not need to hide,” she turns her gaze to the coming sunrise, the evidence of it just beginning to peek through the trees, just barely showing.

    “You can come to Loess and find a home.”

    playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
    if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf



    @[Nightlock]
    [Image: sochi.png]

    I was less than graceful, I was not kind
    be out watching other lovers lose their spine

    Reply
    #12

    — I'll break you a hundred different ways —

    He cannot help but to wonder what it must be like to be in control of what you are. He wonders if he would ever choose his skeletal form, if he was ever given the choice. If it was not control by the sun and the moon, he isn’t sure if he would ever choose to be like this. It serves no benifit, other than to alienate him morseso than he already was. He was more difficult to injure, and did not tire as easily and felt no pain or hunger, not even lust or want, when in this form. It turned him into a shell, in every sense of the word, and most nights he is not so sure if this is a good or bad.

    “Must be nice,” he responds when she says her forms are no longer at war with one another. The words are not meant to be condescending, even though the flat and low tone in which they are uttered could make them sound that way.

    He follows her gaze to the ever so faint glow that outlines the silouhette of the tree tops, and he shifts his bony wings almost restlessly. The transformation was always a gruesome thing, even when it was returning back to his regular form — muscle and organs and skin regrowing, it was not just a quick flash that suddenly left him whole. It was not something he was keen on putting himself on display for. Her offer to come to Loess breaks into his incessant need to leave, and he angles his skeletal head to peer at her, before nodding almost imperceptibly. “I will consider it.”

    He moves then, turning towards the dark pit of the forest, away from the coming sun. But he glances back to her first, and perhaps if there had been flesh across his face he would have almost smiled. “I hope you find prey that is far more satisfying than I was tonight.” It is all that he says in parting, before allowing his skeletal frame to be swallowed by the shadows and trees.

    — and I'll make you remember my face —

    Nightlock

    @[Sochi]

    He will show up in Loess one of these days <3
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