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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


    burn slow, burning up the back wall; ryss.
    #2

    Just stay away from the white light. I'd say your worst side's your best side.
    Well. So much for not being able to tell I'm pregnant. Though given I should be popping any damn day now, I look pretty good. My belly's only just a little rounded out, still nothing compared to my mother when she was halfway through carrying the twins. Maybe the little demon's on the small side or something. Or maybe because it's my first? Only, dammit, if I have any say in the matter. Though who'm I kidding? I'm not going to turn down a repeat performance from Pazuzu, heat or no heat. God, maybe I should cave and talk to Mom and—no. Fuck that. I'd pop out a dozen more little monsters before crawling back to her and begging her to find a way to shut off my ovaries.

    I wonder if that's even an option.

    Anyhow, the kid's kicking something fierce again, and the only way I've found to shut it up is to walk. I think it likes the rhythmic motion. Soothing or some shit, right? What do I know about babies? But it works well enough usually. Little bastard's big enough that it can't wallop me good in the ribs anymore, doesn't have the room too work up that kind of momentum I guess? But it's still a squirmy little fucker, and I swear I can feel it testing the boundaries of my uterus and seeing just how hard it can push, practicing for when the big day finally comes and it's out.

    Oh god that's soon. I'm going to have to shove this thing out. I'm going to have to push something the size of a baby hippo out of my damn—and there it goes again. Nudging away, probably because my heart's racing at the thought of impending labor. So soon, and I'm not even a little ready. Ready for it to be over, absolutely. Ready for the actual hard scary expelling a child from my body part? Not even a little bit.

    Nudge. I'm going to pretend that was a 'you got this,' and not a 'dammit, mother, calm the fuck down so I can sleep.' Ugh, mother. Not even a little bit ready for it. Unfortunately, it's a bit too late for that. So the best I can do is walk to trick the kid into sleeping. Which is exactly how I find myself wandering the forest, ambling slowly from one end to the other. Occasionally I walk past a stranger, but no one that reaches out and grabs my attention. And really no one who reaches out and grabs mine.

    “Show yourself, apparitionist.” Or that'll do. I pause, listening for a moment rather than just charging right in. Oh, not because I'm shooting for mommy of the year being protective or anything. Just because I'm not batshit crazy. The voice was a little off to the side. I can't really see her, just heard her calling out from beyond the shadow of some trees in between us. But what the hell, could be fun.

    Kick. I'm going, I'm going, calm the fuck down, beastie.

    “You know,” I say, angling toward her through the gap between a few big trees, “I find 'hello' works better.” I catch sight of her as I duck under one last branch, and give her a thorough once-over, my gaze lingering on the all too familiar color of her coat. Tarnished silver, that's one mom called the other. Her tarnished silver girl. I don't have a clue why, there's nothing silver about the brown that roans out to a soft pastel, or the intermingled strands of dark and light in her mane and tail. God, I really don't need that reminder right now. But it's not the girl's fault she's the same color as my dead mother. I can play nice.

    At least she doesn't have yellow eyes.

    “I'm Ryss. You got a name?”
    Just when you think that you're alright, I'm crawling out from the inside.
    Daeryssa
    of the restless heart
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    RE: burn slow, burning up the back wall; ryss. - by Daeryssa - 05-01-2016, 07:46 PM



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