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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


    haunted by the ghost of you; abysm
    #1

    I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you

    She has felt sorrow before.

    She has felt it eat away at her, has felt the way that it can demolish the very pillars that are designed to support. She has danced with her grief, mourned with her own heart, watched the sun rise and set on the chapters of her life crafted to inflict as much damage as possible onto her.

    But this is different.

    This is a final straw, a final ending, and she feels her resolve shatter beneath it. She does not ache or rage or implode. Instead, she is an empty house, the dust barely settling along her edges, the sun no longer reaching the core of her. She is cold, hollowed out, and the rest of the world seems to fade away, peeling away like old paint. She leaves the Pampas the morning, a land where she lives and yet no longer feels like home, but she doesn’t go to the Island. Not today. She cannot bring herself to face them today.

    Instead, she turns to the other lands.

    The ones rearranged and yet wholly the same, the ones that house so many memories, both good and bad. The memories of a bone-armored boy coming to curl around her. Of him chasing a golden stallion away. Of having love crumble in her hand. Of finding the scaled stallion and standing chest to chest. Of waking next to a roaring river to the chaos and the din of the fight, of the bone-armored stallion washing away.

    It almost reaches her, the memories almost break through the numbness, but they don’t. Instead, she just walks until she reaches the river, until the rapids wash over her hooves, grabbing at the feathers of her legs and pulling. Today, her wings are just simple red down and they press to her sides. Her elegant neck drops her neck down and she drops her nose into the water, the currents slapping and rushing around.

    She lifts her darkened head up and closes her eyes, feels a heavy weight in her chest, and tries to breathe.

    Even that feels like too much.



    @[abysm]
    [Image: avatar-1975.gif]
    the heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity
    Reply
    #2
    He does not like this world overly much.
    Too much heartbreak and disappointment; both th milk of things he’s long since ceased to suckle from. But the damage is done - the boy can be taken out of the black ether of nothingness, but it cannot be taken out of him. It swallows him whole, endlessly so.

    Abysm would rather keep to his dreams; to that dark precipice of otherness that he perched on. To the memory of dark eyes and skin that is mixed navy and snow. The dreams he made for himself were so much better than this. Her kiss, her skin, her potent gaze - he could dream themself to him each time, hour after hour, know that he knew who he dreamt of after so long of not knowing. The dreaming had kept it from him initially but no more.

    Yet he finds himself here anyway, and not in those times of his own design.

    So he picks his way amongst horse and river-rock. Wandering it seems like, without end until the familiar swirls of brown and red coalesce into a familiar sight and her name breaks free of his lips in a murmur, “Leliana.” He can taste her sorrow, feel it in the cold river-water that runs around their lower legs as he nears her. She has never had quite so tragic a flavor as she does now, though he can only taste it in the edges of her dreams.

    “I can make it stop for a little while,” he offers, part coy and half genuine because he knows, it is only temporary - only just a dream. He touches her cheek, and his power warps the sensation to one of relief and respite as it sends warmth to spread through her. It is gone the moment he removes his lips from her skin, giving her just the briefest taste of something beyond her grasp that dances like shadows just before the light. “Close your eyes and come with me,” he beseeches her as a strange most starts to rise up from the river.

    @[leliana] He’s like a weird Aladdin offering her a magic carpet ride lol
    i would do anything for love,
    but i won’t do that 
    Reply
    #3

    I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you

    He tastes of something other worldly and she wants to cling to it.

    She almost jerks from the touch, her body reacting so quickly and so violently to it these days, but he slips under skin with the drug of his magic and she leans into it. Something like a gasp tangles on her tongue. Something like a low moan. Something dark and painful and aching as he lets her taste just that moment of relief. It touches her bones and settles in her veins and she hurts with the momentary glimpse of something outside of this grief. Something that nearly splits her open with it.

    “Abysm,” she says his name nearly in a trance, drugged by the promise of something to take this away, something to remove the stones from her chest. He beckons and she is helpless to not follow. She takes a step into him, hungering for more, her hollowed out heart pounding in her chest.

    “Make it stop,” she whispers, her lyrical voice a quiet murmur, a plea that she presses into his palms, trusting this near stranger with her dreams. “Please.”

    She needs to remember that there is more to life than this endless cycle of pain.

    She needs to remember that there is hope and light and that there is such a thing as an endless summer, the days long and sweet as honeysuckle. Her hazel eyes are wide and vulnerable, tears falling quietly down her cheeks as she brings her gaze up to study his face. Her pulse thrums and it feels like for a moment the world goes quiet, the world goes dark, and she sees nothing but him.

    Nothing but him and the crook of his finger and the promise of something in his eyes.



    @[abysm]
    [Image: avatar-1975.gif]
    the heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity
    Reply
    #4
    Abysm is dreams incarnate and more than that, or maybe somehow less since he so much of his namesake - the abyss. But for her, he can be this otherworldly thing that can bring a taste of magic even if it just through dreams - just for a little while, and not forever. That’s all he can ever be, just a little while and never forever. 

    He wasn’t meant to be that way; not after being ripped from the abyssal nothingness and then his mother’s womb. Traumatic. Even for the unborn at the time, but it remains in him like the knee-jerk reaction of muscle-memory. It is something that cannot never be forgotten or forgiven. He’ll do neither and time shall pass as it is meant to.

    Her gasp. Her moan. Her startled near-jerk from his touch then the quick settling that is like giving in, sweet and quick before he can snatch the dangling thread of dream-magic from her eager grasp. He’s not that cruel though. Could never quite tease or taunt - just promise and follow through. His name leaving her mouth seals the deal even as she leans into him, and her hunger spills over.

    “Just for a little while,” he responds to her truthfully, and maybe with a hint of regret that he cannot make it last longer. Dreams are not long lasting. Repetitive, perhaps but in the end, they end. So he’ll not lie to her about that even as the mist unfurls closer to them, beginning to creep about their pasterns before climbing higher.

    He can feel her need engulfing them as the mist does, and he goes to work by ripping apart the seams of this world and the next. Abysm has never wondered or asked what it feels like to be sucked from the natural world into the one of dreams. Truth be told, he hasn’t done this much with another in tow but she is there, anchored to him by the mist of his dream-manipulation.

    They are still looking at one another as the seams stitch themselves back together and the mist changes into light, warm and honeyed and so thick it hurts his eyes. But this is her dream, this lazy summer of crickets and streams and grass as far as the eye can see. No flies to bother the skin. No pain or sorrow to bother the heart. Just summer, sweet and endless and he asks her, “What do you see? What do you smell? Who is here with us?”

    and he begins to build her dream from the ground up, giving her exactly that and the sky of a brilliant hazy blue with a few fat happy clouds to go sailing by. No rain. No pain. Just light and a lighter heart.

    @[leliana] yep continuing this! ❤️
    i would do anything for love,
    but i won’t do that 
    Reply




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