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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]  I won't be a grain of sand slipping down the hour glass; any
    #2
    a certain type of silence has filled my voice
    I scream beneath the water, and make no noise

    She doesn't often think about the future or what its visions mean - she's old enough to know that nothing is certain up until the last moment, and that only after someone makes their decision, any of the possible futures go from 'possible' to 'most likely'. Sometimes that is not until, say, a heartbeat before it happens, and sometimes it can be days or a whole moon ahead. In fact, the most reliable predictions are what someone's unborn child will look like, because once made, they are the least likely to still alter until a certain age.

    Right up until they start making their own conscious decisions, like where to go or who to ask for a change.

    None of that bothers the old white mare today as she makes her way north from Loess towards the River. She just likes to wander, now that she has moved out of her second home. The future is ever-changing and in the past nothing had stayed the same.

    She finds the troubled mind when rounding yet another river bend. She is not surprised to find him here, nor can she say she has expected him. He is, like everyone else, part of the million possibilities, and the longer he had walked in this direction, the more certain it had become that they should meet each other; when he had stopped walking, the possibility of meeting right here had become a certainty; - one she had picked up on and accepted for the truth.

    But even without all those possibilities of the future, Ilma knows a troubled youngster when she sees one; she doesn't need any sort of prediction to interpret the frown on his face as he mentally asks the water for guidance. She doesn't have answers, either. Nothing in life is clear and they'd best accept that. Still. Sometimes all they need is a shoulder to lean on.

    "Hello," is all she says, the universal greeting all she needs right now. There is no bidding him good day, morning or night, for it might not be. There is also no fancying or being surprised at meeting him here; her golden-amber eyes find his blue ones as she waits for a reply, knowing it will come, but not how or when exactly. As is the nature of all things future.

    will you let me follow you,
    wherever you go… bring me home?
    Ilma

    @Reave Here is something. Philosophy to the max but I was just looking for an excuse to thread with you (:
    Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
    Robert Jordan, Wheel of Time
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: I won't be a grain of sand slipping down the hour glass; any - by Ilma - 11-11-2021, 04:13 PM



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