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  • Beqanna

    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


    [mature]  it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased -- deathwish
    #1
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    His hunger engulfs him, leaving him a bitter splash of frigid, angry waters on Nerine’s darkened shore. His appetite has grown, proven by the amount of rotting corpses that he had drug to the bottom of the sea, floating hauntingly within the darkness. He stares at them with equally empty eyes, forcing the current to bring him over them and through them, brushing past them with graceful movements, remembering their shrieks, remembering their last breath…

    With a scream of frustration that is not heard amidst the deep pressure of the ocean’s floor, bubbles cascading from his open lips and floating upwards, he thrashes himself away from his collection of bones and freshly bloated bodies - he is still hungry, and killing is not quelling the gnawing ache within him.

    The monster grows restless, and it is due time for a walk on land - though not in Nerine. He had no patience today for walking among the silly horses that wade in the shallows or upon the craggy shore. They simply wouldn’t do. He craves something else entirely and with another frustrated growl, the water demon liquifies himself into nothingness, a rampant riptide propelling himself through the ocean. 

    The rough and tempestuous waters of Nerine quickly give way to the clear and calm ocean of Ischia, a beautiful tropical paradise that the stallion remembers from when he was just a foal. He remembers Kylin and her twin (foul beast), and how with such rudeness he had been treated. From beneath the still, pristine waters he rises, materializing as he prowls towards the white sand, saltwater dripping from each hollowed and rippling muscle, seaweed spilling from his iridescent and evergreen mane. He’s scowling, a maddening and angry thing festering though the shallows, the usual calm waters ravaging around him with his frustration.

    He is not here to kill, though he is never one to promise such a thing.

    If he finds what he is looking for, no harm shall be done to the Ischians.
    m a u g r i m.

     
    @[Deathwish]
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    Messages In This Thread
    it was a blood-soaked feast that never ceased -- deathwish - by Maugrim - 12-12-2017, 06:58 PM



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