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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


    Beaches, boats, sailing, togetherness; Neverwas
    #4

    I know you're trying to fight when you feel like flying.
    When my accusation brings only a smile and a bit of laughter, I realize my mistake. The man had no intention of leaving his young daughter alone without an explanation or even a goodbye. I guess I've seen one too many abandoned children in my short time here. Been one too many, for that matter. Maybe that makes me a little quick to overreact.

    I duck my head, embarrassed to have insulted the stranger with my presumption. “Good. I'm glad to hear that. I apologize for assuming the worst of you.” I would really prefer to skulk off back into the shadows, back to the quiet, putting a comfortable distance between myself and watchful eyes. Especially the amber ones of the man I just accused of being the scum of the earth. I should never have spoken, should never have come over here, should have thought before I acted.

    Did it wrong, Nevi. You always do it wrong.

    But my retreat is delayed by the arrival of the girl I tried so defend, lured by curiosity and maybe a little protectiveness toward her father if the fire in her eyes is any indication. “Oh. I. I'm nobody,” I answer, looking down at the ground. I know how upset I would be if someone insulted anyone I love. “I'm Neverwas.” The name slips out, shards of glass slicing through my skin; I haven't called myself that since the day Isle found me. Now here I am, spilling secrets onto the ground at a stranger's feet.

    She should know though. They both should know. Please don't let my words offend; I am less than nothing. “I'm from the Tundra,” I add reluctantly when she asks where I'm from. I shouldn't be. I should be Neverwas of nowhere at all, claimed only by the Den as yet another lost boy slowly growing into a lost man. I am the Tundra's only because I am Isle's, wrapped up in angel wings and carried home to paradise. “What about you?”
    If you love me, don't let go.
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    RE: Beaches, boats, sailing, togetherness; Neverwas - by Neverwas - 05-17-2016, 10:15 AM



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