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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 moon, the stars and all their light // Any
    #1
    Rey scraped the hard length of its horns down the rough bark of a redwood. Resinous pitch scented the air, filling his lungs with a smell he would only ever be able to describe as "home". 

    Scraping the trees felt good. It relieved the ache that growing the bony things caused, and it made him feel like he was doing something productive. Sharpening them, maybe, or marking territory with the oozing ruts he left behind. It was, unfortunately, not an activity that took an awful long time, though. He was soon over it, and looking for something else to occupy himself with. 

    There was a whole day ahead of him now, after all. They had those now. With light and warmth and color and everything. He still wasn't quite used to it. It was better, make no mistake. Anything was better than the endless dark and the violence it had contained. Now the sun was back, and things were returning to how they'd been told they should be. 

    It's just, that it was hard to trust that the light would come back again, now that it had proven capable of abandoning them. He wanted to talk about this with someone. Anyone. But their parents were still recovering from the dark themselves, and dealing with new babies on top of it all. And then there were his sisters; the ones brave enough to answer a call he'd slept through, and turned different when they'd come home. 

    Not to mention any time he tried getting his twin on her own for an attempt at a private conversation, someone always seemed to turn up. Not someone. Targaryen.  

    The slightly older stallion seemed intent on spending as much time with Cheri as he could, and Cher didn't seem to be stopping him any time soon. In what he knew was a mean-spirited way, the colt found himself occasionally wishing the monsters had gone for the other stallion instead on the night they'd met. 

    Mom would be terribly disappointed if she knew he was thinking this way, so it was lucky she was a mood reader instead of a mind reader. Small mercies, he thought grimly.
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    The moon, the stars and all their light // Any - by Reynard - 04-22-2021, 07:08 PM



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