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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]  I will never be your hothouse flower - any
    #4
    Merida
    from the ashes, a fire shall be awoken

    She cannot help the curiosity that pricks familiarly inside her, a feeling that has rested for too long and now seems to ignite with the fiercest coil within her belly. Even with the coolness of autumn that drapes around her like a frigid cloak, the fire that stirs inside her refuses to be quenched. As she steps forward, closer to the stranger, her neck and haunches glimmer with the freckled red, lively embers burning on the soot of her sleek, ebony skin. The gazes of the tri-colored mare meets her own without hesitation, boring into Merida with a stare that is not challenging, but a stare of one who is ready for anything, glimmering with the hope of optimism but not quite the look of naivety – a look that is familiar to Merida.

    The black and red mare is not surprised by the answer; of course, she sees everything. Merida would have been disappointed if she could not. However, the curiosity ebbs and grows, wondering just how far ‘everything’ goes and how deep she could truly see. Merida’s blazing red gaze narrows thoughtfully, the tangled and thick mess of her equally red forelock twisting over the flat of her broad nose.

    ‘I see you.’

    The statement is not a threat as it leaves the blackness of her lips, her voice genuine and merely factual as it again reaches Merida’s ears. The mare yearns for more, though; what can she see? The mare smiles easily at her, in such a way that her own lips part into its own smirk, twitching lopsidedly across her mouth.

    “I am Merida, of Loess.” For now, she doesn’t add. She is equally as wayward as she is inquisitive, though stubbornness is what seems to be getting her into trouble these days. A new leader with a new pecking order sends sparks flying, which is one reason Merida has found herself in the forest today. “And who, my friend, are you?”
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    RE: I will never be your hothouse flower - any - by Merida - 06-20-2017, 02:54 PM



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