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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


    Daughter of dust and bone; any
    #3
    astarte


    The cough rouses her like a dragon from the depths of its sleep. Her eyelids part, dark smoky chocolate eyes appearing. They watch this newcomer steadily, like black orbs of swirling shadow in the winter haze. She breathes and it is a silent thing but for the cloud that rises like smoke from the dragon’s maw. She is too pretty to be a dragon though her blood runs as hot as lava. Her pink tongue wets her charcoal lips to better impart the words to come.

    “Death,” she murmurs. The word is ominous and it hangs alone, proud, and as harsh as blade in the icy air.

    “Death is what you can do for me.” She clarifies. Her eyes close again as a stray tear carves its way through the dirt upon her cheek. She is dirty, like bones within a shallow, uncovered grave and dusted with earth.

    Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

    She wonders where her god of death is now. He had promised her, so sweetly, so definitely[ an end to her eternity. She thanked him with a hot kiss upon his cheek, but it never came and her god left. She has been obsessed… fanatical about death, desperate to feel its cold nothingness. But even death ran from the pretty girl of eternity.

    She gazes at this stranger with her unblinking eyes. She knows what he wants, what the point of this field is and it all just feels… monotonous. She has been here before as a love struck youth luring weary travellers back to her kingdom. She gazes around at the horses maintaining their stilted conversations. It’s all so bland. She longs to scream and feel the burn in her throat, the sound clawing from her throat.

    She doesn’t. Her silken lips remained closed. Instead, all that leaves her is:

    “What do you live for?”

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    Messages In This Thread
    Daughter of dust and bone; any - by Astarte - 09-25-2015, 03:23 PM
    RE: Daughter of dust and bone; any - by Kronk - 09-25-2015, 07:02 PM
    RE: Daughter of dust and bone; any - by Astarte - 09-27-2015, 05:46 AM
    RE: Daughter of dust and bone; any - by Kronk - 09-28-2015, 11:42 AM
    RE: Daughter of dust and bone; any - by Gryffen - 09-28-2015, 12:11 PM
    RE: Daughter of dust and bone; any - by Astarte - 09-29-2015, 11:16 AM
    RE: Daughter of dust and bone; any - by Gryffen - 09-29-2015, 12:11 PM
    RE: Daughter of dust and bone; any - by Kronk - 09-29-2015, 01:16 PM
    RE: Daughter of dust and bone; any - by Yael - 09-29-2015, 03:19 PM



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