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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


    come a little closer; any
    #1

    COR

    He’s falling –

    Falling and tumbling and spinning through the air at an unsustainable pace, his wings pumping futilely against the onslaught.  The storm tosses him from one air current to the next as he struggles to remain aloft.  Thunder roars in his ears, a deafening symphony to his apparent demise.  His blood pumps with adrenaline as an invisible hand seems to pull him further up into the sky in a moment only to drop him in the next.  If he survives this, the little house sparrow will be lucky.  

    If he survives this, he’ll have to find a new thrill.

    Cor had been watching the bellies of the clouds grow dark and fat with rain all day as they rolled in across the fields.  He smelled the ozone in the air, the telltale sharpness of lightning coming.  He watched the others take shelter under the canopy of the forest and walked out into the open as the first drops of rain began to fall.  He thought of the smallest bird he had encountered and logged so far – the modest sparrow – and became the bird himself.  

    There was a great deal of danger and adventure to be had in a late summer storm.  You only had to look at it from a different perspective.

    Now, he’s in the midst of it, breathless as the swirling wind knocks the own air from his tiny chest.  Cor’s beady eyes seem to glow from within with every flash of electricity between the ground and clouds.  He looks terrified (or as much as a bird can).  He is terrified.  He’s also having the time of his life.

    Eventually though, all good things come to an end and every storm runs out of steam.  The sparrow launches himself at a tree branch with the last gasp of wind and clings on to watch the storm roll away.  His feathers are disheveled and poking up in all the wrong spots (no lady birds would be accepting his courting, surely) but he is pleased to find he has all his pieces intact.  Cor flutters down to the leaf-littered ground and rises into the horse he was born as.  

    Not bad, he thinks, a smile curving his lips and his young brown eyes eager for whatever comes next.   







    ooc: looking for a home!
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    Messages In This Thread
    come a little closer; any - by Cor - 06-23-2019, 10:54 PM
    RE: come a little closer; any - by Kensa - 06-23-2019, 11:47 PM



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