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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
    #3

    — I'll break you a hundred different ways —

    As he had expected, he was not alone for long. He is not surprised that she is who greets him; she didn’t seem like the kind that let too much slip past her. Her feline scent reaches him before he actually sees her, though a miniscule cock of his head brings the tigress into his line of sight. The taut lines of his face smooth only slightly as their eyes lock, and there is the barest hint of a smile that threads itself across his lips. She doesn’t recognize him, which is not surprising. It would be impossible, after all, considering everyone’s bones looked the same once the flesh was torn away.

    “You invited me,” his voice is still nearly hollow, even when spoken from the softness of a tongue rather than the emptiness of a skeletal skull. But there is no malice in the flat darkness of his eyes when he looks at her, and he notices that though she is not at all placid or soft, she does not seem wound so tightly as she had been that night in the forest. “Hello again, Sochi. I suppose I look different during the day.” He does not offer her anything else that would hint at his identity, certain that she was intelligent enough to figure it out, or at the very least forward enough to ask.

    The breeze ruffles the silvery feathers that adorned the wings that for now he held close to his sides; not exactly pinned, but the rigidity of his stance was far from relaxed. His gaze had shifted away from her now, still scanning the unfamiliar surroundings in an almost scrutinizing manner. He wasn’t sure what he had expected; he didn’t expect much of anything, really. He had nothing to compare it to, and when he glances back to her he offers idly, “I don’t know if I’ll stay, but I had nothing better to do.” His jawline tightens almost indiscernible, an image of Wonder’s face flashing across his mind just briefly. It was better if he was here, away from her, and away from the tangled thoughts that she unknowingly stirred.

    — and I'll make you remember my face —

    Nightlock


    @[Sochi]


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: it's hard to stop what you can't see; anyone - by Nightlock - 04-21-2019, 03:12 AM



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