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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


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    [open quest]  final round: and with strange aeons, even death may die.
    #7
    <center><div style="width:400px; padding:30px;font-family:times;font-size:12px;line-height:14px;background:#FFFFFF;color:#000000;text-align:justify">
    They close in on him, and instinctively he wants to fight. He wants to land blows against their ribs and their skulls, he wants to listen to breath be expelled from their lungs and retaliate against every single one of their attacks.

    But he sees their familiar faces, their eyes, and he can’t.

    He succumbs to their jaws as they latch onto him, lets them drag him further into this endless darkness that he can’t seem to escape from. If the white-hot pain of their teeth didn’t burn so brightly he would have been sure by now that this was a nightmare. There was no way this could be reality – no way that something this wretched and awful could exist. But when he is deposited into the pit of this lair, when the acid drips and burns his skin, he is again reminded of how terribly real this all is.

    He stands there, breathing ragged and pulse pounding. Blood runs from all the wounds his family inflicted on him, and fresh waves of pain alight to every nerve-ending when the acid lands in the open, torn skin. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t cry out. He lifts his head to stare at the strange beast before him, and he cannot even find it in himself to be afraid. Because he is looking at them – at his father, at Haunt and Wrenley, at Eternal and his mother. He is looking at the faces he has loved all his life, in the best way he knew how, and all he can choke out to them is, “Why?”

    They don’t answer. They stare at him, unfeeling, disgusted, as if he is not worth their effort.

    And then they turn, and one by one they walk into the waiting jaws. The crack of their bones and the crushing of their flesh echos in his ears, it rattles all the way down to his bones.

    And, without even a thought, he follows them.

    “Wait!” He cries out to them, and he rushes forward. He doesn’t think, he doesn’t hesitate. He just follows them because they are all that he has, and even if they hated him, even if he was nothing to them, he knows he cannot – will not – be alive without them. That he would follow them wherever they may go, into any shadow or any lair, into the mouth of any monster. He rushes into the jaws and when the teeth fall to crush him he is only afraid that wherever he goes after this, they will not be there. That they will again be in their own world of shadows and he will not be able to follow, but he dies knowing that he at least tried.</font></div></center>
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    RE: final round: and with strange aeons, even death may die. - by Torryn - 03-02-2020, 12:54 AM



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