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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


    [open]  Not all who wander are lost - any, pteron
    #8
    finger trips across my cheek----------------
    ----------------kiss me until i can't speak


    Smelled weird. Seems like a good enough reason to ask, and from the sound of it the dead mare had been willing to answer. Not hiding that she is dead then, Pteron thinks. Would she be as willing to share the how of her return? There are things that the dun stallion might be able to do with that knowledge, after all. Perhaps Gale need not be locked in his well-flowered grave forever, not if there is a way to come back from the dead. That line of thought, even if hopeful, is not entirely pleasant, and he is grateful for Aodhan for carrying on despite the small frown that had crossed his face as he thought.

    There is something sheepish in his companion’s grin, and the tale of kelp and Aquaria that he spins brings a much wider one to Pteron’s blue-grey mouth. “I’m sure that’ll come in handy,” he replies with a grin, “Though I’m glad she left enough of you to live and tell the tale.” It is not that he things the nereid would have actually tried, at least not if she thought it might harm Aodhan. The purple-eyed girl sounds rather like the aunt that Aodhan soon describes; Pteron is able to piece together their relationship from what Aodhan shares. He’d known that Adria was her sister, though he’s never seen the mare. He catches the claim that Eva is the most beautiful and gives only a rueful shake of his head in reply.

    They might as well argue over which sunset is the most glorious, he thinks. For a moment, he recalls the way Aquaria had looked away from the sea, beneath the shadow of trees not far from where they stand now. Distance from the water (he assumes) had pulled away her nereid scales and ethereal beauty, and yet she held his eye with no effort all. He smiles at the memory, a soft, fond sort of smile, and nods agreeably at Aodhan’s suggestion.

    The danger in the other’s grin is reflected in the daring that grows on Pteron’s, as he says: “Why don’t we make it a race?” It’s not a race he will win, Pteron knows, but the idea of a friendly competition sends a thrill down his spine, and he takes a few steps back, pawing the ground excitedly. “Last one there’s a rotten egg.!”

    @[Aodhan]

    -- pteron --



    maybe next post in ischia?
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: Not all who wander are lost - any, pteron - by Pteron - 11-15-2019, 02:43 PM



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