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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


    fear cuts deeper than swords - ivar, honey
    #1
    This plague business has kept her mostly in the skies or on craggy peaks where no soul nor germ likes to crawl to. She left her sisters side just before the land began to crack and moan, before the dead-eyed diseases started to infect random bodies. Somewhere in her charred little heart there is a pang of worry and perhaps sorrow, a piece for her mother and a piece for her sibling. On the surface, however, she tells herself that they’re most certainly fine just like she is. This is not her mother’s first rodeo and Oleandar’s instincts are often stronger than Wrena’s; she tells herself (and it is actually true, Olea is a survivor).
     
    Lately the warmth radiating from the westward shores has kept her glued to the coastline. Brilliant Pampas seems to be sickness free, it seemed like a wise decision to stay there for at least a few weeks. Today, in the dead of night, she flies slightly north and over the open waves. She leaves the Pampas behind and heads toward a curious thing… Ivar..
     
    She’s always been so curious about the creepy kelpie fellow. Many a men she’s met, even ‘been with’, but this one she cannot ever shake. Sometimes he’ll haunt her, or just occupy her mind randomly and with no real reason. She’s followed him home before, one of the last times she spotted him and even said hi. She always shivers when his memory flashes through, his cool eyes staring back at her. She has never crossed over the blue to his island, but today for whatever reason, beneath a bright full moon, she decides to.
     
    She touches down with a delicate stride atop the moving seawater until she stops smoothly in knee deep waves to walk ashore. The glowing plankton are disturbed by her movements and light up as the water ripples around her. Her coal-black wings drip and shine against the moonlight while they adjust and fold to her dark bay rib-sides. She looks around, leaving her hind ankles in the lapping foam, her tail hair swaying with the sea’s heartbeat. She stays there, listening, looking; waiting.


    frickin @[Ivar]
    sorry its been so long, behhh
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    Messages In This Thread
    fear cuts deeper than swords - ivar, honey - by wrena - 11-26-2018, 09:35 AM



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