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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


    black bird singing in the dead of night
    #1

    It’s nearly dawn, but the full moon hangs still reluctant against the horizon and her chrome light touches the tree’s bright tips still. Even in the nights odd-lighting the fall colors of Hyaline are vibrant, the yellows glow and the reds melt into the darkness. He lets the shadows swallow him, but still his bone-white face shows most times or he lets his magic dwindle on purpose out of boredom with it. He wanders tonight, alone and with no real purpose in mind. The sound of falling water draws him further way from the lakeside and up he goes, roots and boulders and moss laden pathways that wind through rocky steppes. 

    He finds the source of the pleasant gushing sounds, as one would suspect it is indeed a waterfall. Many times it breaks and pools, trickling out over a ledge or two and then freefalling over the mountainside and eventually to feed the lake.  The mists are oddly warm, even with this frosty autumn night air. Soon the crystals of frozen dew and fog with coat everything. Chem follows a small deer-path up the steep incline to a plateau of moss and still green grass. It is where the water bleeds from the heart of the mountain, it seems, and it appears to come out warm – or hot even. Steam rises from the toiling waters, it is not mist, he discovers. It is a waterfall of thermally heated water (or magically?  who knows here) gushing over a pristine hillside of red, orange and yellow trees. 

    He hoists himself onto the plateau, the steam coating his speckled coat and beading in his thick hair. He’s quite happy to see a bit of still lush grass at this late time and it clearly hasn’t been cropped in some time, or if it has, it has been a very little bit. He’s been here for at least a year and some, but has never discovered this bit of treasure before. He wondered if Sreva has seen it, or Xzavier. He sees them now and then, but lately he has been in and out of Hyaline and busy setting up to teach (eventually). He tells himself he’ll need to hunt them down soon, to see how they are, if they still like it in this place. 

    For now he grazes greedily in the blur of pale steam curling up and around, dampening his hair and veiling the rising dawn-light from touching his back.
     


    c h e m d o g

    in absentia luci, tenebrae vincunt







    OPEN TO EVERYONE <3

    @[Sreva] or @[Amet] if you're about  c:


    Messages In This Thread
    black bird singing in the dead of night - by Chemdog - 10-25-2017, 10:11 AM



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