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    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]  Wolves that eddy out the corners of his eyes || Any
    #11

    YOU'RE ONLY AS SICK AS YOUR SECRETS

    There is an edge to Aela's smile - like the gleaming edge of a sword that knows it's about to strike - as she glances to look at her (unknown) sibling. Oh, she could make him feel plenty and the palomino certainly considers it. But she has already shown him images of the Pampas, taunted him with her glowing stripes and it seems better (at least for the time being) to wait with this particular skill. Enough emotions are writhing in him to distract her for a moment: (some distant memory, something buried deep enough that Aela can only feel it; loneliness) the Wolf doesn't want to be left alone.

    That was something unexpected but then, perhaps even the sulkiest beasts of the Moorlands need companionship.

    But not mine, Aela thinks cooly as the pegasus mentions her voice. Her blue eyes watch him and then she smiles at the dappled brute. "Very good," she says with a saccharine voice, "did you think of that one while you plodded here from Nerine?" She pointedly glances at the dark brown wings by his sides, wings that she has never seen him use. The smile on her face curves a little more and then she looks back to the black stallion, who surprisingly hasn't left them yet.

    He tells her that what grows in the Pampas might surprise her and Aela's head tilts slightly. She might have asked if they all grow like him in the Pampas - tall, dark, and handsome - when one of those useless wings strikes out at her. The Pangean is quick to react with a curve of her slender shoulder away from him and a brief aura of flame, another reminder that Aela is not as simple as she seems (though the false-wing had managed to shove her). If the duplicate receded because of singed feathers, it isn't there to ask. Aela simply rolls her shoulders and gives her head a small toss so that her flaxen mane smooths out against her neck again.

    "Pretty", she counters dryly back to Wherewolf, "is so much better than boorish." The other brute - Obscene - states his intent to return to the Pampas to get blitzed and this piques her curiosity, so much that it might felt in the air around them. Aela studies his dark gleaming coat and those burning red eyes (who put her in mind of someone else, of Skandar) while an ear carefully tips back to Wolf, "Unless you'd like to prove otherwise?" She challenges to her half-brother with another coy smile.



    @[Wherewolf] @[Obscene]
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    #12
    The scent of singed feathers fills the space between them, staining the air even after the duplicate fades away again. Wherewolf's unburnt wings ruffle softly, muscles loosening from where he held them so tightly to his sides. There's a part of him that wants to continue this back and forth, a part of him that is ready to rise to her every gibe with more of his own. He thinks he would destroy himself to prove her wrong and make a fool of her, but today he needn't reach so far. She wonders - though hypothetically - if he spent his time coming here thinking up of a way to insult her voice when he didn't know she'd learned to speak? Her barbs are misplaced, and he hopes that it rankles.

    "Oh sorry, did I stutter?"

    He smirks at her and turns back to Obscene, the edges of his lips still turned up roguishly to match the smugness written thick over the black stallion's face. He is not at all certain that this single addition to the Pampas is enough to wake the flowered land from its poppy-haze slumber, but Aela is too interested, and he's more than happy to be a raincloud over her spring day promise.

    "Well, I may take you up on that... hospitality." Anything would have to be better than the bitter mushrooms growing in the caves of Taiga, or even the red and white spotted ones that erupt between the roots of Nerine's rare woodland. With a quick glance back at Aela, he snorts and continues.

    "You'll have to forgive me if I'm slow to arrive. I'm such a plodder, y'know. It's like they say, flight is the slowest way to travel."

    Without flourish, those broad wings spread, gathering the air beneath the stiff feathers as he collects himself and leaps skyward in a rush of wind that unsettles the palomino's smooth mane again. The Pampas. Well, it can't be worse than Nerine.

    Image by Stardae


    @[Aela] @[Obscene]
    Please accept this late, slightly crappy, close. My brain isn't working again just yet but this thread deserves an ending.

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