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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


    made and remade continually; anyone
    #3
    Eventually her eyes track the shadow-squirrel’s progress as he (somehow she has attached gender to her shadow-friend but something in their shared sense of communication seemed like that of a snarky male) attempts to gather nuts and run up the roughened sides of trees. 

    Dim, what are you doing?
    Whatever it is that squirrels do. You made me but I still act as they do. Now if only I could gather up this damn nut...

    Glim cannot help the chuckle that falls out of her mouth. She had named her shadow-friend Dim since he didn’t seem all that bright (but was in fact as bright as could be!) and was glad she had discovered the ability to make him and others like him though he was more than enough for her. His squirrelly antics proved that as she gave a small dismissive shake of her head then looked back out onto the field as a frown began to settle on her face.

    She had initially been thrilled to defy the natural rules of not coming here by doing exactly that but now that her defiance had time to settle and sink out of her bones... Glim grew bored. All she saw were mares and stallions - stallions and mares. The air was abuzz with conversations that failed to interest her long enough to listen in on. Even their antics of claiming and courtship failed to provide enough entertainment to keep her eyes from continuously roving back to the shadow-squirrel. 

    Glim sighed, attracting the attention of her shadow-friend. 
    Dim paused on a branch over her head to inquire about it. What’s wrong? 
    Why does something have to be wrong? she craned her head up to fix him with a pointed stare that had his tail twitching frantically behind him as he raised himself up into a sitting position. 
    Well something is wrong or you wouldn’t be looking at me like that...

    She didn’t answer him. Couldn’t - she had no idea how to express her sudden disappointment in their adventure. Instead she gave a flick of her stubby tail and waited for the sharp crack of the branch behind her. So, even shadow-things could have some kind of substance to them. It was a satisfying thought as she glanced behind her and tried her hardest to keep from falling over in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. 

    Oh Dim!
    Her face brightened with the north of her act - she had changed the shadow from a squirrel to a pygmy hippo and judging from the expression on his murky face, he was not impressed with this new shape she had given him. 

    When on earth did you ever see a hippo?
    Once, in a dream of a rich golden savanna with a big blue-brown river.

    Dim shook his head which provoked another bout of laughter from Glim because his little ears were wagging. 

    Not funny Glim, besides someone is watching us.

    She did not have the chance to ask him who or how he knew this. There was a pretty painted mare that came to stand in front of them (Dim had waddled his fat little shadow-self to Glim’s side in the meantime) that did not overtly present herself as an adult despite the fact that she so obviously was. A glimmer of appreciation sparked in the soot-soaked pits of Glim’s eyes. She had no desire to masquerade as an adult when she knew her place so clearly as a hotheaded and brash child but that did not stop the smile from sliding across her lips as the opportunity to be regarded as more than she was. 

    “I like your fangs.”
    Glim says with a sincerity that cannot be faked. Even the shadow-hippo is modestly impressed or so a swift glance shared between them tells the filly so. 

    “I’m Glim and this is Dim.” she gestures to the shadow-thing at her side that is eyeing the black horn and finding it more impressive than the black fangs protruding from the mare’s smiling mouth. 

    (Glim realizes it is probably not wise to name that which she can make and unmake on nothing more than a whim. It lends the shadow more permanence than is allowable but she cannot help herself- he is the only constant in a world full of flux.)
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    Messages In This Thread
    made and remade continually; anyone - by glim - 04-03-2018, 09:45 PM
    RE: made and remade continually; anyone - by glim - 04-04-2018, 05:08 PM
    RE: made and remade continually; anyone - by glim - 04-10-2018, 03:56 PM
    RE: made and remade continually; anyone - by glim - 04-16-2018, 09:34 PM



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