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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


    [open]  wish you weren't so frickin' awkward, bud.
    #1

    No matter their age or what has happened to or between them, these girls will always be constantly bickering but fiercely loyal sisters. Each girl has their role, their mother too but she is off on one of her frequent wanderings. They’re getting longer between now, their mother’s trips and Oleandar knows she is preparing her daughters for a final departure – to join their Grandmother at the beach. Wrena doesn’t think about such things, so we do not know her opinion yet, but it likely one of smothered sadness masked in fiery venom (her usual way of dealing with sad things, or anything).

    It is a cool summer night, an open sky with a few stretched cotton clouds floating under the sparkling stars. Wrena is dark like the night’s shadows and Oleandar is golden-pale like a harvest moon on a hazy night. Their patterns of flight differ greatly, but they never fly far from each other travelling together. The moth sister flits low and through the trees, following the smell of nectar, and the dragon-sister soars high and watches the morphing landscape for anything of interest or danger. 

    Oly whistles to her sister and lands in a grove below. Wrena circles for a while, taking her sweet time before touching down in the long grass of the undisturbed grove. By the time she did land, Oly was sipping the sweet juice from fat trumpet flower blooms. It was rather serene. A plethora of vibrant, healthy flowers and ferns surrounded by a subtle cage of oaks, maples, bittersweet vines and stands of river birch. The colors and textures lay out a painting. Fireflies drifting and blinking, night birds calling and creatures screeching – the night is humming with life. The sisters found themselves peacefully grazing, one on nectar the other on long delectable grass and a few delightful little mushrooms.




    i've got no roots,

    oleandar    &    wrena

     

    but my home was never on the ground





    open to anyone! they're just hangin out in some secret garden nbd.
    and oly looks like dis @[OLEANDAR]
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    Messages In This Thread
    wish you weren't so frickin' awkward, bud. - by wrena - 06-01-2019, 11:30 AM



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