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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


    there's just too much that time cannot erase; ryatah
    #7

    lord, I fashion dark gods too;


    He watches her in his lair, her paleness gleaming against the dark rock. She is too lovely for such a place, of course, but this place has taken many lovely things and spat them back out, broken and no longer so lovely. He does not think the same will come of her, of course, because she does not break in the way so many do. She takes whatever he gives, bends like greenwood.
    He laughs as her response, though it is barely a laugh, just a harsh exhale of breath in the stale air.
    “Well,” he says, “you must know a part of me is always tempted.”
    For isn’t that his basest nature? To hunt and kill, for before he ascended to a god it was the highest pleasure, ending their lives. He knows better, now, knows the pleasure of prolonging things, but in the end, of course he loves the blood and bone of it. But there is so much more to be done!

    He smiles at her touch, and nods, though he knows she can’t see it. He supposes he should mend that, if he wants a proper tour, lest he waste his time describing things.
    “Of course,” he says, “though I guess we could make things easier.”
    His lips move up her neck, to her cheek, then to the middle of her forehead, where he whispers something guttural. There is a loud crack as her obsidian orbs hit the stone floor, and he brings her dark eyes back for the second time in their decades of knowing one another.
    “There,” he says, “makes for an easier tour.”
    He moves, then, choosing a tunnel that expands out into darkness. As they move further in, the place becomes dimly lit, though the source of the light is indiscernible. He pauses before a carved out room, empty, though the walls are stained and scarred with the memories of those who had once occupied it.
    “This is where they stay,” he says, though he offers no explanation as to who the they are. It varies, after all, and there are many other such places in this lair, in other places. He has one occupant here now, but he has stored her elsewhere, at least for the time being.

    c a r n a g e



    @[Ryatah]
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: there's just too much that time cannot erase; ryatah - by Carnage - 01-24-2021, 03:38 PM



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