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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


    i'm a wreck. didn't you know?; dovev
    #1

    Now I gotta make a decision and I don't really know which option to choose. I'm a big wreck, did you not get the news?
    Can't go to sleep unless I leave the lights on.
    You don't know how many fuckin' demons I know.

    I am a mess. Don't you know?

    No, I guess you wouldn't. You weren't around the day I fucked my life up royally. The day that the demon within tore me and my dreams apart. Then again, were they really
    my dreams? Or were they the dreams of my fathers?

    If any of the past had taught him anything, there was a very good chance everything he had done had been because of the influence of the fathers who raised him. Though while there was regret and the drive to make things better, he knew it would take time. Change was never instantaneous and it took hard work when one was truly ready to form themselves into something new, something better...

    Why was it so easy to fall into the darkness, yet so hard to crawl into the light?"

    Also most importantly, with the removal of the demon had come this change. So what would happen were the demon to return? Would their voices return, would he be able to fight their influence? What about the anger? Would it wreak it's havoc through his mind once more? Would he be able to grow strong enough to fight their influence were they and the demon they brought with them to return?

    For now only time would tell. In the meantime he would have to work to restructure his mind so that he is able to combat the influences were they to return and so far he thinks he is on the right track. His years of solitude and now the gentle spirit he calls family has kept his mind at ease. It's the thought of the young girl that makes him suddenly look up to see where he has wandered to, and it is then he notices he is standing in the forest. The trees are so very tall, and for years they had hidden him safely away from the ones who hated him.

    Before the filly claimed him as family, these trees had been his own and how good a job they had done. For they kept him out of sight, out of mind, making the world wonder if he were ever going to return or even possibly dead. The latter probably would have been hoped by many, and for a time he had wished the same. But deep down he knew it was better this way. To return when the air in Beqanna was stable and not ripe with hate or war.

    Maybe now. Just maybe... He could live in peace out in the open.
    Peace is all he truly wants.
    He doesn't want to be the monster he once was. Not anymore.


    With a gentle sigh he looks up towards the tree's canopies, watching the summer sunlight dance gently through the leaves. He wonders where she is, the little one he had become a guardian of. Where she is playing... It's strange this, to have someone else to wonder or worry about. Forever he would be a part of her life, forever he would look after her. No matter what happened to him, he somehow knew he'd always be on her side whether it was the dark or the light that reigned over his heart and soul.

    Slowly he looked back down and across the path that lay in front of him before suddenly turning and stepping off it, his long silver legs carrying him deeper into the trees in search of something, anything. An unknown face, an interesting conversation, a taste of wild berries even. Anything that would distract him from the constant turmoil within his own mind.

    TANNOR

    demon morphing son of a bitch


    @[Dovev] @[Toli]

    :| Idek wat this is.
    but here you go! lol
    Reply
    #2
    dovev

    Fucking finally.

    There was one thing that mattered most to the magician he served, and once that task was complete, he would free him. He was certain he would. He’d never said so, but what else could he possibly want with him? So he’d do it, and he’d be free. He’d be able to see her as often as he wished. He’d be able to show up in one piece instead of gashed and bleeding -well the blood would always be present, seeping from around his armor as it slowly erupted out of him- but without the aches and bruises, without the exhaustion that made him pass out as soon as he dropped to the ground. He could have it, he could be free.

    All he had to do was kill this bastard.

    The metallic shimmer off his coat caught Dov’s attention instantly. Fucking finally. How hard was it to find a damn man made of iron? Apparently pretty tricky as he’d searched for months now without any gain at all. God, but that stupid glare of sunlight off a metal body was the best damn sight he’d seen in so long. His freedom was so close now. He wasn’t bothered in the least that he didn’t know the guy, didn’t even care what the hell he’d done to raise the wrath of the magician. He commanded, and Dov obeyed. Good enough for him.

    He charged instantly, trees blurring around him as he raced to the metal bastard. Did he still want him alive though? Because killing him seemed the better option. More mess, but less difficulties. Less whining. Less trying to find some way to transport him to Ischia to serve his judgement at the magician’s hand.

    Whatever.
    First things, first.

    He launched his armored body at him, shifting to ram him shoulder-to-shoulder with all the force of his weight and hidden strength. He never gave warnings, and typically he’d start with ripping into flesh, but seeing as he was made of metal, he’d rather like to keep his teeth intact. But as his plates of solid bone crushed against him, he was met not with a clink of iron against the surface, but a familiar softness of any other body he’d thrown himself into, torn apart.

    With a frustrated snarl he threw himself away, out of direct reach as he stared him down with hard, black eyes. Who the fuck are you, where’s your iron? Goddamn it, this better be the bastard so he can kill him and move on. Killing an innocent was all well and fine, really, but only if he knew to keep looking for the iron man afterwards. You fucked that girl up real bad, you know that? Not that he cared one bit, she probably deserved it with that attitude of hers. And really, he was just trying to verify this was the right bastard. Goddamn it, be that stupid bastard. Let him earn his damn freedom.

    I'll take my bow, I won't make a sound
    I whisper truce as the ashes hit the ground


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