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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


    maybe redemption has stories to tell; any
    #10

    She can see the way that he tenses and fidgets, and instead of backing off it makes her want to press further. She has gotten so good, it seems, at sabotaging friendships – potential, or already existing. She knows that she should soften herself, knows that if she stepped away from friction rather than pushing against it that maybe she would be more likable.

    Instead, she tilts her head at the way he adjusts his wings and presses his lips together, and for a moment she is quiet in what appears to be thought after he invites her to speak.

    “Well,” she says as she steps forward, continuing to ignore his unease and carrying on the conversation lightly. “I have always had a seemingly insatiable thirst for adventure. And for a long time it seemed like it always found me, even if I wasn’t looking for it.” She assumes that he knows the way of Beqanna, how sometimes the mountain and the magic reached out – sometimes inviting, sometimes demanding. “I didn’t really think anything of it when it called me again. It sent us to the plains – are you familiar with that place? – and we had to fight.”

    Beneath her splashed skin her muscles twitch and grow taut. Not even she herself can discern if it is from excitement at the memory – a longing for another batter– or anxiety bred with regret.

    “I fought my friend – my only friend – and even though I knew it wasn’t really him, even though I knew it was just some twisted illusion, I was surprised at how quickly I was willing to hurt him.” She remembers how attacking him had been instinctual, how she had gone for him before her mind even registered that it was not really Voracious. The feel of their antlers locking – her antlers, a gift from the plains – still echoes in her mind. “And then after him, I was paired against a version of myself.” A pause, as she thinks back on that strange, mirror-image of herself. The same oddly patterned coat, and vibrantly pink eyes. “And I killed her.”

    Her face is marred into a thoughtful frown, before her eyes level with his once more. “It’s a terrible thing to learn about yourself, that you will hurt just about anyone if the right situation arises.”

    A careless, empty smile lifts at the corner of her dark mouth, angling her antlered head upwards at him. “Your turn.”

    Aislyn

    she set fire to all the things that held her back
    and from the ashes she stepped into who she always was



    @[Warden]
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    RE: maybe redemption has stories to tell; any - by Aislyn - 08-16-2020, 02:46 PM



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