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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


    Dancing on my Own (Any)
    #6

    now and then there's a light in the darkness;
    feel around 'til you find where your heart went.

      His heavy stare watches as a darkness seems to descend over her strong features; the gold flecks of his eyes follow the slope of her jawline and the way her brow line seemingly creases in thought. Her eyes, as vivid and as deep as the seemingly endless river bottom he had found himself lost in more than once before, suddenly seem hollow and distant. Memories, undoubtedly filtering through her mind, recalling her to a different time – to a different place. He cheek turns slightly, and his two-toned forelock settles across the bridge of his nose.

      A faint shrug of her shoulders is given, as if she is shaking away something heavy and burdensome, but soon there is a soft humor in her tone and he chooses to let it go. His own pale mouth retains the warm smile, teeth displayed only slightly as she confesses that she knew of a past he himself had never seen. ”The Taiga,” he muses softly, remembering another individual of emerald and sapphire who called Taiga her own. ”another woodland. You seem to have a type, though I daresay they lack a river as fine as this.”

      A deep rumble of laughter emerges from the hearth of his chest, as his gaze stares out along the thick line of foliage bordering the riverbank. ”The Reckoning. I honestly have never known a time before it – I was born, quite literally, the night it happened.”

      Change. He knew it as if it were an old friend.

      ”Ischia? No,” he says, finally meeting her gaze with his own again. ”I am from Tephra. My father led there; helped to build it up to what it is. It has the same amount of salty seawater, though.” His smile becomes a wide grin, following her eyes to the surface of the rippling water, which soon splashes and laps against the pillars of his legs – and he cannot stifle the laughter that ensues.

      ”I like water in any capacity,” he confesses, his eyes gleaming with a bit of mischief as he gives a simple toss of his head – provoking a sudden gust of wind by his sheer will alone, manipulating it to splash the icy water onto her in return.

    Canaan
    there's a weight in the air but you can't see why
    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    Dancing on my Own (Any) - by Tyrna - 03-31-2017, 05:09 PM
    RE: Dancing on my Own (Any) - by Canaan - 04-01-2017, 01:54 AM
    RE: Dancing on my Own (Any) - by Tyrna - 04-01-2017, 12:42 PM
    RE: Dancing on my Own (Any) - by Canaan - 04-01-2017, 03:17 PM
    RE: Dancing on my Own (Any) - by Tyrna - 04-02-2017, 12:56 PM
    RE: Dancing on my Own (Any) - by Canaan - 04-06-2017, 02:34 AM



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