• Logout
  • 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


    [private]  we are slaves to the sirens of the salty sea; jamie
    #2

    He is getting stronger, Jamie.
    There is still a tremor in the limbs and a weariness in the voice. The kind of weariness that suggests he’d be all right if he could just get some rest. But rest does nothing for him. He wakes every bit as ensconced in exhaustion as he’d been when he’d laid down his weary head. It leaves the fog that tangles itself up around his legs dappled, thin. It has been weeks since he last tried to summon a portal.

    But today he is strong.
    Today he opens up that portal. And he, thing made of darkness, feels absolutely no trepidation as he steps through it and into the river so many miles away. The creatures loitering at its edge skitter back in surprise, disappear into the dense forest and he is alone.

    The water flows around him, as if by magic. But there is no skin for it to gather upon, bead and collect. There is only darkness as he fights the current, his breath labored. And he emerges from the water dry. Untouched.

    But there is a vicious trembling in his knees and he hangs his head heavy. He had known better, certainly. Known that his journey would be taxing. Perhaps even more taxing to use the portal than it would have been to walk all that way.

    His chest heaves with his effort to breathe. He will have to stay here until his strength returns. It could take days. Darkness is gathering quick and heavy on the horizon. It will be night soon. The eyes glow electric yellow in the shadows, the only things that give him away. For he is the shadows. There is nothing to distinguish him from the darkness but the eyes.

    He has regained control of his breath by the time she emerges, as if born of the water. Effortless. It makes his lungs ache to watch her move easy up the bank. Makes his knees tremble. And when she comes to rest the water pools at her feet.

    You love the water,” he says, the voice thin as the fog that gathers around his legs. “And it loves you.” He tilts his head, that strange head. And when he grins, it is a cheshire cat grin, all teeth. “How peculiar.

    from the destruction, out of the flame
    you need a villain, give me a name
    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: we are slaves to the sirens of the salty sea; jamie - by jamie - 06-08-2020, 01:49 PM



    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)