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  • Beqanna

    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]  i've never fallen from quite this high; anyone
    #3
    finger trips across my cheek----------------
    ----------------kiss me until i can't speak


    Despite the near-instantaneous healing, his regeneration is far from painless. Pteron is limping, favoring every leg but especially the left fore (snapped in at least three places), and he is barely away from the scene of his fall when he hears a voice.

    It is not one that he knows, but he hurts to much to turn quickly, and instead makes a slow half circle so as to not bend any part of him too tightly. The speaker is a black stallion, a little difficult to make out in the shadowy woods. Pteron comes closer, his ears pricked curiously. He’d usually have a smile for a stranger, but there’s a shallow cut across the delicate skin of his nose that give a bite to any attempt at movement. Still, he can’t just stare wordlessly at the unfamiliar man, not when he is attempting humor that doesn’t really sound mocking.

    “Didn’t anyone tell you to watch your head in Taiga?” He asks with faux innocence, as though the warning is commonplace. “You’ve got to look up. Never can tell when a horse is going to fall from the sky.”

    It’s worth the sting, the dun stallion thinks, stopping now that the two of them are near enough for a conversation. The proximity brings with it the scent of Loess, and it is a good thing Pteron is not smiling widely. It surely would have dimmed at the reminder that there is something of his in Loess, and as it is his half-smile fades to just pleasant interest. Pteron has avoided the southern land – though he knows that is abandoning his duties as well – since the night he had found Reia with her belly growing wide. His own concerns over fatherhood are not so terribly far from Kildare’s, though perhaps the black stallion does not spend late nights thinking how he might steal away his child from its mother and spirit them both away to a place that will never be found. Pteron does not like these thoughts, does not like that he can even think them, and he brings himself back to the stranger in front of him with a mild shake of his blue mane.

    “My name is Pteron,” he tells the other man. “What brings you into Taiga tonight?”

    @[kildare]

    -- pteron --

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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: i've never fallen from quite this high; anyone - by Pteron - 11-19-2019, 09:05 PM



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