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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 wishful thinker; any
    #1

    Summer was quite unforgiving, the heat of the sun felt like flames stroking my strawberry skin, brushing up and underneath my flower knotted mane, dampening my flesh with a sheen of perspiration. I never coped well in the summer heat; all feathers and mane and fur, it was a terrible mixture. The warm sun unrelenting against my furry coat, even having lost a majority of my wintry pelt, I was still not as sleek as most here. Idly, I strolled along the forest edge, the shade keeping me cooler. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, my limbs pulling, dragging almost, across the loam in such effort.

    The Falls were a smooth lullaby of gushing waters and lulls against the rocks. Softly, softly, they sing me a song, lulling my wrought mind into a secure blanket. Akos was off, wandering. He was growing in himself already, quite the adventurer. It made me smile, that he promised to not wander far, and as I lifted my head to peer into the woods, I saw a flutter of blue, shifting among the trees before disappearing again. He was safe her, in the Falls. Such a safety that made me allow less of a rigid eye upon the boy, and more time to try and unwind. As my sinews were like knots, and a hard nodule of irritation was marring my spine.

    Pulling over to the Falls, I lower my head and drink, with abandon. the cool, crystal waters are refreshing against my parched tongue and meet the right needs in my warm, irritated frame. Lifting my muzzle, I let the drips fall and cause rivulets against the waters edge. Emerald eyes revert down, staring at the shimmering reflection that stared back. The wildflowers that braided my mane, a few twigs, a few abandoned leaves. It made me feel closer to the earth, it made me feel closer to the Falls. As the Falls had become not only my home, not only my son's home, but a purpose, a meaning. Perhaps, perhaps if I had not wandered into the Falls that day, I would be broken apart somewhere, like some forgotten rag doll. The thought was cold against my mind and I tried to ignore it, instead throwing my muzzle back into the watery depths and churning the pool around, distorting my reflection so it looks like stained glass, a kaleidoscope of colours. The honeysuckle white against my strawberry ribbons of mane, the greying roan of my face stark against the viridian green of the backdrop.

    My thoughts turn to Texas, to Shatter Me. I wondered how they were doing. To Tyrna. The little wolf like girl. I hope now that she sees I am not so much as an imposer, than a supporter of the Falls. Thoughts shift then to Susquehanna. Hoping she was settling in, to Jacque and wondering if he was lurking about. Akos liked him and did not give his mouth a rest, asking about herbs and medicinal purposes. I shrugged and said perhaps one day, he would talk to him. Then my shoulders roll, rocking myself back and lifting my nose from the waters. I thought of Chezter and his proclamation. It made me feel uneasy, uncertain of what laid ahead. If love could be given so willingly, without care, then what, what sort of love was that? I gave a gentle snort, looked deep into the watery grave of my reflection and studied hard.

    I was no perfect model. No waif, no lithe figure of beauty. I was sturdy and strong, all feathers and mane, unkempt and in disarray. I grumbled a little, snatched up at some green grass growing out of the rocks around the falls, and chewed them thoughtfully. I wanted friends, I wanted companions but I wanted what Shatter seemed to have with the steed I'd caught glimpses of recently. I wanted to feel like I was the stars against their blackened skies, the moss to a rock, the leaves to a tree.

    Perhaps, perhaps that was far too much to ask for, for me, for Eld.






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