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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
    #7

    Delicate things are pretty - cute, even,
    but you are not delicate.
    You are wild and lewd and unpredictable.
    You are breathtaking.
    You are beautiful.

    In some ways, a physicality could be just as powerful, just as potent, as the intangible. My eye, though it is mere a physical anomaly, lends me a knowledge and insight that few, if any, others possess.

    In truth, I've never had to consider in any depth the anomaly I present. Oh sure, I know I'm odd. Strange and unique and altogether different, but that is not to say I have given it much thought before. Had the mare stepped outside the bounds of propriety and asked directly of my additional eye, she would have found me quite receptive to the discussion. I am quite given to introspection anyway, and that is a conducive question.

    Of course, she had not, so instead I smile benignly at her, matching her gaze for fiery gaze, blissfully unaware of thoughts of fairies or blessings or whether one might be deserving or not (indeed, my thoughts are limited on this subject anyway. What can I say, the fairies are fickle creatures).

    Instead she continues the conversation in the same vein as before, and this new question intrigues me. “Hmmm.” For several long minutes, that is the only sounds that escapes me lips.

    Ducking my head a bit, I tilt it this way and that, my body swaying side to side, neck stretching and head swinging out as I seek better angles. No doubt I look quite strange, though at the moment, the thought doesn't occur to me. Finally, I tuck my head back in, body stilling as my gaze seeks hers once more.

    “You are many things,” I finally add, voice softly pensive. “Like fire. You don't just look like it, you feel like it.” After another moment of staring, I shrug, a lazy lifting of my shoulders. “I can't really tell you more beyond that.”

    Giohde

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    RE: I will never be your hothouse flower - any - by Giohde - 06-21-2017, 11:03 PM



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