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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


    the savior of the broken; any
    #1

    risk
    His breath tumbles from his mouth without rhythm and at erratic depths. How long had he been asleep? What happened to the predator? Slowly, with aching joints, he stumbles up onto his hooves and examines the word around him with new eyes. There is blood everywhere and yet he finds no wounds as he tests his legs or examines himself. Risk is still ink black with little thin lines of copper shimmering across his torso, and yet he is certain there should be some. The boy swallows hard and takes a cautious step forward.

    H-hello?” he calls out, peering around the trees until the sound of his voice makes him pause. “What.. what the fuck?

    The tones of his voice are deeper now and his words have gained a sort of timber to them instead of the wild silverbell voice before. His chest is a little broader and his hips move just a little differently. Risk examines himself once more, pawing at the ground curiously as he begins to realize this body is not quite an identical copy of the former one. He opens his jaws wide, trading in the grazing teeth of a horse for the fangs of a lion for only a few seconds before closing his mouth once more. Well, he could still copy other animals he likes, at least.

    A few more steps reveal small patches of snow on the ground here and there, the first frost of the winter. When that panther caught him by the throat, it had still been summer. He frowns visibly and lowers his head to sniff at the snow to be certain this isn’t some sort of trick being played on him. But, sure enough, the ice is bitter cold against his nose and he snorts softly before shaking off the little flakes. Had he died or simply been healing this entire time? Then, where is Kensa? Where is Kelynen? The shifter lifts his head higher and glances around as though they might suddenly reveal themselves from behind a tree nearby. But of course, there is no such luck. There is only the quiet chirping of birds and the gentle snapping of twigs beneath little squirrel feet.

    Risk leans his shoulder against the rough bark of a bare winter tree and sighs roughly. His odd-colored eyes blink a few times in the hopes that this is all just a bad dream.
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    Messages In This Thread
    the savior of the broken; any - by Risk - 11-01-2019, 01:15 PM
    RE: the savior of the broken; any - by Lepis - 11-02-2019, 10:23 AM
    RE: the savior of the broken; any - by Risk - 11-20-2019, 01:15 PM
    RE: the savior of the broken; any - by Lepis - 11-23-2019, 01:22 PM
    RE: the savior of the broken; any - by Risk - 12-01-2019, 11:52 PM
    RE: the savior of the broken; any - by Lepis - 12-08-2019, 09:50 AM



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