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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


    it's hard to stop what you can't see; anyone
    #1

    — I'll break you a hundred different ways —

    It has been weeks since the invitation to come to Loess had been extended to him. He had mulled it over in his mind, but had make no effort to accept it. He had been born in a time when neither parent laid claim to a kingdom, and to be within a border of one felt too similar to a prison. He had grown up trailing his mother, to wherever she felt inspired to wander, and even before the curse had been set upon him he had followed a similar path. There was nowhere that he lingered for long, save for the very distant mountains and forests – places so dark that no one else dared to trek, and if they did, the sight of the skeletal stallion was enough to send them away.

    He isn’t sure why he comes. He stands on a rocky outcropping, elevated enough that he can scan most of the territory. He had already scouted it from above, but now his wings sat folded neatly at his sides. It was not his ideal choice in layout; not enough trees and other places to steal from sight when night fell, but the mountains of Hyaline that bordered the one side would suffice, he supposes.

    It was also far enough away from Tephra that it was unlikely he would run into the crimson and bone-laced girl here. It irritated him, the way he still saw her face when he closed his eyes; that thoughts of her crept into his subconscious when he didn’t ward them off. He still smelled of ash and sulfur, even though it had only been a short time that he spent at the base of the volcano; but much like the smell, she haunted him, even if their encounter had been brief. He had left for Loess immediately after.

    Without realizing it, he had descended from his perch while lost in his thoughts, his hooves meeting the summer-scorched ground with a thud. With eyes devoid of expression, he watches, only faintly curious of where Sochi might be. It is not she that will determine whether he stays or leaves, however; it was whether or not he could tolerate everyone else.

    — and I'll make you remember my face —

    Nightlock


    Messages In This Thread
    it's hard to stop what you can't see; anyone - by Nightlock - 04-14-2019, 04:51 PM



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