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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


    Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
    #1
    Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn...
    It is a queer sort of quiet that fills this place, profound in its depth. When he blinks his eyes open he can feel the weight of her stare, disbelief and uncertainty filling her soft chocolate eyes. They are in a field, a meadow, something full of whispering stalks of grass and dainty pastel flowers. Delicate gold dandelions dot the ground around them and blackfoot daisies bloom in patches thick as breath on a cold winter night. He’s always been though, made up of some form of consciousness and now he was made up of blurred lines, and the feeling of tingles along skin. It is certainly a more solid existence than before and as he leans into his mother’s dark side he knows that she is more whole than he is, yet she herself is not entirely opaque.

    This place is so big, endless and expanding and changing as quick as thoughts pass from place to place. He is accompanied by another, as he has always been, even before they were made into something more tangible and he gives a small nicker to the other half of his being. The woman, their Mother, looks at them closely interested and almost afraid. Was she always so delicate and unsure? He was starting not to recall all that he had seen before, everything he had heard and known, what had come to pass before this new form of solidity. It was just there, he had known so much, had been comfortable and everlasting and there was something else, someone bigger or greater than he.

    He shook his head, tiny face bobbing side to side before he looked deeply into the soft orbs of his Dam. A greeting left him and she pressed her velvety nose to his own, her whiskers tickling him and making him sneeze. “Hello children,” she said calmly and he knew from that moment he was in love with the gentle drawl of her words. “You are both so very beautiful,” it was a heartbreaking happiness the way she said it, as though they were entirely perfect and she understood something they did not yet know. “Stand on up and come close my loves, I do not know how much time we’re gon’ have here together.” The warmth of her skin was delightful when he found his feet, wobbling upright on thin legs that felt so obscure beneath him.

    “Momma,” he said happily flicking his tiny nub of wispy spirit tail.
    JUDGE
    picture by seanen middleton photography- HTML by Call
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    Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! - by Judge - 02-11-2017, 03:05 PM



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