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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


    [private]  wearing their iron masks like a shield; Brine
    #5

    cold in the violence after the war
    hope is a fire to keep us warm

    She would have been chagrined to know of her envy. She could never hope to claim such freedom from the past or wisdom as she ascribed. If anything, it’s her own foolishness that keeps her so bright in the face of her grim future. An impossible and naive hope.

    It would be a dark day indeed when she finally lost it. One could only hope that day would never come.

    In a way, it has become almost habit, the olive branch she offers. A way for her to avoid rejection. Still, her intentions are genuine and the teasing kindly meant. A thing that serves ultimately to lighten the mood, even if just a little.

    “I bet you’re more important than you think,” she replies easily, her smile settling with familiarity onto her lips. Her comment is not meant to illicit a response however, and she easily moves on, favoring Brine’s introduction with one of her own. “Brazen!”

    Her next question surprises her, if only briefly. There are very few who ask outright about the bones protruding from her skin, as though they fear offending her with it. Truthfully, she doesn’t think on it overly much anymore. They have become a mere fact of her life. Something she had long ago learned to live with. And so, her response, when it comes a moment later, is as candid as her question.

    “No,” she replies thoughtfully. “At least, I don’t think so. My dad has them too.”

    Her next question does give her pause however. Pain is another fact of her life. Another thing she had long ago come to terms with. But still, to admit to it felt akin to admitting a weakness. And so, she hesitates. Not because she doesn’t wish to answer, but because she worries at the pity it might elicit.

    After a long moment, one where her brows furrow and eyes fall briefly to the ground, she finally answers. “It does.” With a dismissive shrug, she returns her gaze to Brine. “But it’s not so bad. I’m used to it.” Abruptly and without finesse, she changes the subject. “Are you new to Nerine? I haven’t seen you around before.”


    Brazen




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    RE: wearing their iron masks like a shield; Brine - by Brazen - 01-23-2020, 05:17 PM



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