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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


    we are infinite as the universe we hold inside; firion
    #8

    that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried

    He is not sure that he should be the kind of boy to make promises, although there is a part of him that would very much like to be. So even though pieces of his mind hold him back—tell him that he should not whisper such things to her. Should not promise things he cannot keep to girls made of dreams, he flings himself into it anyway. He is reckless—stupid, he will tell himself later—but he doesn’t mind.

    “Deal,” he says.

    We will find each other, he thinks, wondering if she knows how dark it will be where he is.

    Still, his demons cannot find him here and he does not invite them. For a moment, he is just a boy and there is no mask that he wears. He is not pretending. He is just Firion. He is charming and mischievous and playful. He has a rogue’s smile that tips his lips into crooked lines. He has the honest kind of face of someone who has never known lies. Here, Firion is not cursed. Not weighed down by the truth.

    He is set free.

    Enough so that he does not fight her when her face turns stubborn—when she denies that she would be better than him even though he knows in so many ways how wrong she is. He just smiles, laughs low in the back of his throat, and shakes his head lightly. “Hyaline,” he finally answers, realizing that he had not answered her yet. “Although I don’t know how much longer I will live there.” He had said it to Mazikeen. Still, he hasn’t left yet. Momentum, perhaps—or perhaps he hasn’t had time to find something better.

    His eyes darken a little as he listens to her story. As he feels something like grief remind him of who he has and pull him slightly out of this daydream of happiness. Of course she is not alive, he thinks. Of course she only exists here. It feels more painful than he had thought it would, to realize that he could only find her in his dreams. “Okay,” he finally says, feeling how deeply inadequate the word is.

    “My dreams never come to me,” he admits, wondering if she will know why he rarely sleeps. That he spends his nights in a haze—reduced to stumbling around the world in a body that he does not recognize. “And I struggle to find them.” It’s the most honest he can bring himself to be with her. The most honest he can be while he desperately hides the monster away. “But if we find each other, it will be real.”

    He will find her again, he thinks.

    She will find him.

    He will find his way back.

    The desperate plea of his thoughts shatters as the golden butterflies burst into the sky and his eyes brighten, chasing back the shadows as he watches the fall down into the ground beneath them.

    It emboldens him, chases back the fear that this is just for a moment.

    “I like random,” he says, his smile shy but his eyes knowing.

    so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried

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    RE: we are infinite as the universe we hold inside; firion - by firion - 06-29-2020, 09:50 PM



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