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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


    [private]  Sochi;
    #1
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    Winded and irritated, Castile returns to the welcoming embrace of Loess. Its dry gales kiss his sweat-lathered skin and nuzzle against his exhausted muscles.

    The trek to the Mountain was strenuous, but to return with his body and energy drained, added to the calamity. A heavy sigh escapes him as the world crushes down on him. Everything seems smaller, limited. A longing glance peers up at the open sky as clouds tumble and roll. A growl wants to rise in defiance, but instead it is a flat groan fumbles awkwardly past his lips. ”Fuck,” he murmurs to himself as he draws to an abrupt halt. His hooves root themselves. A rigidity runs through his entirety. Only his mind races to consider everything draconic, to imagine his body in its other form, to recall the taste of fire on his tongue.

    But it does nothing.

    Scales do not rise beyond the soft flesh. The acrid taste of smoke does not coat his throat.
    There is nothing.
    He feels nothing.

    Anger surfaces in a bright blast of colors surging across his skin. Noisome shades of yellows, blues, reds, and greens shimmer and ripple in relentless waves. But then it stops. His body darkens to an ominous black all over when he finally opens his metallic, mismatched eyes and pursues the familiarity of Sochi’s scent.  He does not see her from afar as he once did, and his senses have dulled, but still he locates her and presses his face into the warmth of her neck. ”I am nothing now. I am incomplete,” his voice is a trembling murmur of suppressed anger. Another blast of vivid colors washes across him in frustration, but still no wings or claws surface. ”The faeries took it… took half of my soul away…” It took years to understand what he was, to accept it and thrive with it. Now that he has nearly mastered his shifting and emotions, the faeries humor themselves by stripping him of what he has possessed since emerging from his mother’s womb.

    He has always known and realized his mistakes, his volatile personality, and yet they cruelly remind him of it as though he had not suffered enough. With a short grind of his jaws, he adds, ”It is my punishment for being greedy… for wanting more to protect Loess, you, and our children. I feel like something is happening, but I do not know what…” he finally – reluctantly – pulls away from the reassurance of her skin to meet her eyes, diving into the silver pools where he finds solace. 

    castile



    @[sochi]


    Messages In This Thread
    Sochi; - by Castile - 10-11-2019, 10:28 AM
    RE: Sochi; - by sochi - 10-13-2019, 11:32 PM
    RE: Sochi; - by Castile - 10-16-2019, 08:36 AM
    RE: Sochi; - by sochi - 11-05-2019, 02:04 AM
    RE: Sochi; - by Castile - 11-11-2019, 03:33 PM
    RE: Sochi; - by sochi - 11-16-2019, 02:01 PM



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