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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


    [private]  Find yourself, then come find me. [Bruise]
    #5

    She sees him, how his naivety wafts into the air similar to his masculine cologne taunts the tip of her nose. He appears genuine, she feels that. He almost has her completely fooled, the little deer a child when it comes to manipulation. When one is not exposed to much conversation, you are not taught the importance of skepticism. She is not skeptical.

    Not of him, not right now; she doesn’t know any better.

    His tone is almost soothing, in a way she cannot put her finger on. However, she feels it in her stomach when he speaks. She hears it when the sentence ends, her ears craving more. And while his eyes cloud over, tracing every inch and divot in her body, she knows it. Well, she thinks she knows it. Our little deer is sure of herself that she has put up enough front, enough face. Brine has asserted her dominance and he respects that. He appreciates her. And like a schoolgirl with her first crush, she feels herself wanting validation from him.

    And then he steps away, and momentarily she is released from self criticism.

    “I don’t know where mine is either,” she shakes her head, eyes refocusing on the water before them with a feeling of embarrassment and judgment.
    He talks a little more, and she attempts to not get lost in the husk of his tone. No, focus, focus on the other horses gathered nearby or how the river swirls at the ends of your legs.

    “I prefer the quieter times,” she responds, “I feel as though it’s too crowded.” He is obviously a social butterfly, a charismatic type. Brine is not. Brine is comforted by silence and solitude, where judgment doesn’t become self sabotage and social pressure cannot be pressed into her naïve train of thought. “Brine,” she finishes as the silence in the air becomes noticeable, “just needed to get out of my head. And you?”


    Brine

    find yourself, then come find me



    @[bruise]

    Sorry Laura, I hope you still want to thread Sad Life got a little away from me there, but I am still able to write <3 Let me know if you want to restart a fresh thread, carry on, or post pone the plot!
    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: Find yourself, then come find me. [Bruise] - by Brine - 02-05-2019, 08:31 AM



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