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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


    [open]  there's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye; any
    #1
    there's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye

    For a time, there are only dreams. Bits of pieces of faded echoes that she can never quite reach, can never quite grasp. She feels they are important, but she cannot seem to comprehend why. Only the strong feelings in her chest tell her it is so.

    Suddenly, she wakens. Golden eyes blink open, taking in the expanse of bare tree limbs that hover over her, incomprehension in their depths. She is sprawled upon her side, snow packed beneath her compact frame, the chill leaching through a coat grown thick for winter.

    Easing slowly into a more upright position, the red and white mare takes in the unfamiliar trees that surround her. Snow stretches between the trunks, coating a forest floor covered in last autumn’s leaves and etching the world in endless whites and browns and grays.

    Blinking eyes that suddenly betray a bit of loss, the confusion and discontent that stirs inside of her, she sifts through a mind that feels both familiar and alien. One that contains no clues as to just where she had come to be.

    She stretches her limbs before her, intending to rise to her feet, when her bright gaze catches upon them. She frowns. The legs are hers, but they feel somehow… disconnected. She does not recognize the red that fades into white. The odd cracks etched across her limbs like a wayward map. Swinging her head around, she sees the rest of her is the same. White locks, cherry bay frame with its roadmap of fissures marching its way across her skin.

    Letting out a breath, a single word escapes the mare on a soft exclamation. ”What?” Her terrible confusion is easily evident in that single syllable.

    Joscelin

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    there's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye; any - by Joscelin - 03-08-2017, 03:03 PM



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