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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


    visions of dazzling rooms i'll never get let into; eurwen, brine, neverwhere
    #4
    Voices play on the wind and they catch her ears, but are not near enough for her to make out what the words are. Hushed conversations do sometimes happen in Nerine, travelers come to speak with the few residents, with Heartfire, or those just passing through to Icicle Isle. There are few of the former, and fewer of the latter. In truth, the frozen northern isle doesn't attract much attention, iced over for three quarters of the year. The short growing season is a hard sell, even with the fairy lights said to dance and ripple across the sky.

    A sight that would be lost on Neverwhere.

    A brief spurt of interest in Nerine has died back again to the quiet of before, so the conversation that bounces off the rocks is something of note. She attempts to ignore it at first, unwilling to be drawn out from the sunny crag she has found to warm skin chilled by the first cool winds of Autumn, but something that sounds close to her name refuses to let her drift back to sleep. Her eyes open lazily, reluctantly, and she pauses a moment to scratch her shoulder against the rough rock of the cliff wall rising high above her. The moss darkens her shoulder with tannic water, and for her part, short, glossy hairs remain behind, her summer coat exchanging for the thickness of winter. She will take her time responding to this summoning.

    A stretch, a shake - dust and hair shiver off her skin and she is surrounded by a golden aura as the sun catches and glints off fine particles. She snorts loudly, blowing the sleep from her brain and walks with her usual bold step, away from the rocky crevices and deeper into the body of Nerine. The party has come along the eastern edge of the kingdom, a path she is familiar with, tracing the edge of Taiga towards the commonlands. As she gets nearer, the voices become clearer and the wind dilutes their scents less. She recognizes two of them, Lilli and Eurwen, but the third is unknown, and if she wonders why Lilli has come here with a stranger, she does not let it hurry her. 

    Their shapes come into view at last, and the sight of the trio confirms that she does not know the third member of the party, a thin and gloomy-looking roan that shifts uncomfortably between the chestnut and the pink-spotted mares. She is watching the waves and observing the wildness of Nerine while the other two mares talk, and so it is with her, first, that Neverwhere makes eye contact.

    An army of skeletons, indeed. 

    Pale eyes drift to Eurwen and the silver dapple inclines her head in something of a terse greeting. They are not, perhaps, the best of friends, but she cannot bring herself to dislike the quiet, serious, mare, for all that she does not always appreciate Neverwhere's... unforgiving sense of humor. No such question of closeness exists, however, with Lilli. Her steps continue until she is quite near Lilliana, and the proximity makes her neck arch when she presses her muzzle to the the red mare's own with a warm breath of greeting. This warmth passes, she reverts quickly to her normal coolness, the usual single-ear-back skepticism plain across her scarred face

    "This is quite a crowd, Eurwen, are you throwing a party?"


    Neverwhere
    ...


    @[lilliana] @[Eurwen] @[Brine]


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: visions of dazzling rooms i'll never get let into; eurwen, brine, neverwhere - by Neverwhere - 12-17-2019, 10:00 PM



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