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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


    [open]  mortal, faultless flesh; any
    #7


    A pleasure, and it is- in this instance, he is not burdened by a native, does not scowl or huff in her presence. 

    He disliked his own kind once, the whole lot, creatures that carved rifts in the world without care; took much more than they gave. There were rivers of their greed, overwhelming the banks, drowning the earth with gluttony. That was such a long time ago, maybe Time does something other than fail to wait. Time heals, so they say.

    Before he responds, he thinks, considers why limited spaces might not be for everyone. “I suppose it depends on how big you are,” he really takes a moment to reflect on that, chewing his cheek. “Of course, it’s important to know you can always take a step back,” he takes a step in reverse, then another. 

    Maybe it was akin to tugging a fox from its den, this meeting of the two, she seemed to lend him an ear at any rate. 

    It’s nice that she has come here, he thinks to himself, a constellation in the forest dark.

    “No Rosine, I’m not from here,” shaking his head side to side, his chin dips towards his chest, tangle of hair falling to obscure his eyes. He’s not from here, though he smells heavily of this wood, the lichen and leaf permeate his skin. Tucked away from the outside world, he had all but given up his existence.

    “I’m from a forest, not unlike this one, sometimes I think I can smell the same trees here,” deep breath in, as if doing so would coax the memory back. What he does not say is that the word, sometimes, was more specific to his other form- sometimes.

     Druid’s beginning was all too similar to this, bark fenced paths, birds against a thick canopy. He doesn’t know what his home is anymore, although he is certain that he used to have one, he belonged somewhere- once upon a time.

    “What is home to you?”


    druid
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    Messages In This Thread
    mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Druid - 03-08-2020, 01:09 PM
    RE: mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Rosine - 03-08-2020, 02:44 PM
    RE: mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Druid - 03-08-2020, 07:50 PM
    RE: mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Rosine - 03-14-2020, 11:45 PM
    RE: mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Druid - 03-15-2020, 10:15 PM
    RE: mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Rosine - 03-23-2020, 03:23 AM
    RE: mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Druid - 03-27-2020, 03:08 PM
    RE: mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Rosine - 04-13-2020, 12:51 AM
    RE: mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Druid - 04-14-2020, 01:44 PM
    RE: mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Rosine - 05-03-2020, 04:59 PM
    RE: mortal, faultless flesh; any - by Druid - 05-06-2020, 09:49 AM



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