I got high as your expectations [~any~]

[Gunsynd]

Gunsynd

(last night i got high

as your expectations)

He had decided to remain. What had gone into that decision was still unclear. Every day was a waking nightmare - ghosts of memories around every corner. Who knew that ghosts could cause so much pain?

He could easily disappear once more and become one with the atmosphere for however long it suited him. He had done so innumerable times and wasted many a year in such a way. Maybe, if he waited long enough, his memories would return and all would be well. Maybe not. Or he could try and simply outlive all that claimed to know him or of his past. It would be a simple trick were it not for the numerous immortals that infested Beqanna’s shores. Ultimately, it was his stubbornness that won out. He did not want to wait and hide – that sounded much too dull.

So instead he has decided to remain, but not in the way he has been thus far. No, hiding in the shadows in fear of his pain and constant struggle was not his style. He would recreate himself. Why had it not occurred to him before?

For one final time he allows himself to fall apart. His atoms mix with the land around him – swirling in the ebb of the river, blowing in the breeze, dripping off a blade of grass. He enjoys the dynamic stillness, the vacant completeness of being. A moment passes in this way (or is it an hour? A day?) and then he begins…

The stallion appears from thin air fully formed and as if he had always been there. A handsome flea-bitten grey, toned muscles and angular features. Not as tall, or as heavy as he had been but still a respectable size. His mane and tail flow free of his signature mats, his usually dark eyes are now a crystalline blue. His scent has been wiped clean by his time deconstructed and now he smells of little more than the riverbank. He is reborn.

[Molotov]

Gonna set this world on fire

Have you ever reached a point in your life where you realized you were wasting your true potential?  Well I fucking have!  More and more as of late, actually.  She moved with unrest.  Her thick, flame-kissed body weaving through the kingdoms until she reached more appropriate accommodations.  The commonlands.

Here, she would settle into her outsider ways.  Living each day how she damn well pleased.  No rules.  No expectations.  No fucking cares.  What Molotov wanted, Molotov did.  The world was her fucking oyster.

Nestle against the heart of an ancient oak, she rested.  The girth of her onyx and ruby barrel leaned into the rough, brittle bark.  Gently scratching away bits and pieces of it with each breath of air.  The dead of winter surrounded her but by the looks of her you couldn't tell it has been months since she has tasted the growth of grass. Surviving well off dried fodder and young sprigs of brush.  She must give credit to her bloodlines for the adequate curves she carried.  They were neither too much nor too little.  Best of both worlds.

With her body at rest, her mind travels.  Into all the other minds within reach.  Their most inmate secrets exposed.  Some cause her to giggle, others a sour taste is left in her mouth.  Some minds were just fucked up beyond belief.  The wishes they wished unspeakable, but nevertheless intruiging.  

Soon her powers come upon a master of disguises.  Oh this could be fucking fun! Is always her thought and therefore purpose in her life.  A devious grin grows along her ruby lips as she spots the flea bitten grey.  Hello she whispers into his mind as his eyes are turned away.  He'd never know it hadn't come from her lips.  Speaking with the tongue was for lesser individuals is her outlook... 

MOLOTOV

@[Gunsynd]