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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


    we are aching bones and wasted years; lagertha / any
    #2
    At first, motherhood made Sunday useless. She was too enamored by the small thing by her side, the little mirror of herself - just eyeless - standing with her nose pressed so delicately to Sunday's rump or shoulder. Quiet, perfect, flawless. Sunday was content to spend her days with her new child and the quiet, lonesome Amazonian jungle.

    It's not long until a call rouses her from her afternoon nap. She's not too far from the border, happening upon a quiet veld to rest in. She nudges her sleeping daughter, who stands on her childish legs and stretches in the afternoon sun. Together they make their way to the sound. Sunday shoulders her behind her, allowing the eyeless child to flank her quietly and silently as she approaches the border and the man.

    Now, Sunday is not all knowing. She's still trying to decipher colors (auras, but she doesn't know that's what they are) that envelop those she meets. She's still trying to piece together the emotions that her empathy allows her to feel. She always pauses before saying hello, taking in the whole scene. Friendly colors, strong colors...hmm. Colors she's used to seeing around royalty, around her Khalessi's and the kings and queens of other kingdoms. But something has changed in the colors, they're...weaker? She's not sure how to interpret it, but nothing about the man says "foe."

    "Hello there, I'm Sunday. Welcome to the Amazons. Are you looking for someone in particular?"
    SUNDAY
    the amazons magickal mare


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: we are aching bones and wasted years; lagertha / any - by Sunday - 10-17-2015, 04:02 PM



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