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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]  when I was a bird I could see
    #4

    His heart leaps in his chest when he sees her startle, the very feel of it on the air makes him have to fight the urge to be flighty, or even timid that he’s made the little thing fearful. But the atmosphere softens, her pale golden eyes looking him over, her wings settling back to her sides. He snorts gently in relief, she recognizes that he is no danger, and not closing in.

    Any others within sight, within the silver illumination she’s drawn so vibrantly nearer to the swaying grass tips, watches them. Some are curious, some don’t seem to care at all. It isn’t such a spectacle in this world, to have the moonlight touch your skin because it’s being lassoed down by a child standing alone in the Meadow.

    When the breeze breathes, washing over them, and the tide of moonlight wrapping them as she closes her eyes. He closes his too, holding his own milky white face to the chrome glow. It isn’t warm like sunlight, but almost minty, tingly as it spills over him. His skin prickles with the chills moving down his spine. He opens his eyes to smile at the now silent child, hearing her remark from before repeat within his mind. “Not poor.” he whispers low, blinking slow, basking still. Fireflies move in, they seem to have come from nowhere, dancing in the extra light. “We wouldn’t want night to be day, anyway, so it is a perfect representation of the gealach’s beauty; to bring her light so close.” The special word is drawn out with an accent foreign to Beqanna, one his grandfather spoke with. That is what he always lovingly called the moon and Chem never forgot it.

    He has no urge to ask her anything, like her name or why she is here. It didn’t seem necessary. So while she observes, so does he, and slowly Irisaen slithers out of his mane to curl around his ear. The wash of light making the blues and greens of her iridescent scales flash brightly against Chem’s onyx hair.


    CHEMDOG
    to the window, to the wall


    his little companion snake is still a baby so it can curl around his ear still lol
    AND IM SO GLAD I DID TOO

    she is frickin precious

    @[cressida] ♥
    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    when I was a bird I could see - by cressida - 05-22-2021, 04:21 PM
    RE: when I was a bird I could see - by Chemdog - 05-24-2021, 06:43 AM
    RE: when I was a bird I could see - by cressida - 05-24-2021, 10:54 PM
    RE: when I was a bird I could see - by Chemdog - 05-29-2021, 07:17 AM
    RE: when I was a bird I could see - by cressida - 06-04-2021, 11:23 AM
    RE: when I was a bird I could see - by Chemdog - 06-22-2021, 09:03 AM



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