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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


    [Private] If that Mockingbird don't sing...
    #3
    Consciousness came and went as he drifted from one world to the other.  The steady pitter patter of the droplets keeping him tied to reality.  When he did drift off his thoughts traveled into the skies.  He was gliding upon the breeze with wings so strong and flawless.  Manipulating the air currents to do his bidding. He wasn't a gangly little colt anymore in this dream.  Much stronger, more masculine in every way.  Hide was much lighter in color.  A faint lavender with slightly darker points.  His view changed within the dream revealing his facial profile.  A chill crept up him as he studied his face, a scar trailed across his left eye.  A deep, ugly scar blemished his nearly perfect form....
      I'm here...
    He gasped as his hazel eyes shot open and in a wide stare he tried to focus.  Had he heard something or was it merely part of his nightmare... 
    You can come out now...
    An Angels voice called to him. She said come so he quickly stood and neared the entrance.  Her figure a shadow against the finally rays of sun.  She had come back as promised.  Smile tugged at the corners of his maw.  A slight happy pounce as he stepped out and beside her.  He was ready for their evening walk to the creek.  Moving more easily this night.  Legs growing more firm and muscles more useful.  Stretching his neck and wings towards the thick canopy he looked up at her as he shook away the dreams of the day.  A tiny whinny in greeting then they moved off.  She picked the path and he followed, kind of.  Excitedly he ran about flapping his tiny wings in determination.  He would fly one day like the stallion in his dream.  

    It wasn't long before they arrived at the creek.  She drank so he lowered his muzzle in copy to taste the clear fluids.  He licked at it with his tiny pink tongue.  It was cold and he splashed it about with his lapping.  Crown jerked up and shook violently.  Spinning on his hunches he jetted off as he noticed she was headed back along the path.  Right on her heels tiny muzzle reached for her flank and landed a gummed nip.

    He tired quickly and was happy to see their home just a head.  He followed behind her as she walked in and over to the bedding behind the boulder.  She laid and he quickly followed.  Though tripping over her legs and landing by her chest wasn't exactly how he had planned it but hey... Whatever works.  He pressed against her body for warmth as he tucked his wings to blanket him.  Just as he tucked his muzzle under them he drifted back off...
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    RE: [Private] If that Mockingbird don't sing... - by Klaudius - 01-26-2017, 12:53 PM



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