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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


    everything kept moving,
    #3

    I never cared for anyone so much. I was born with a bomb inside my gut.

    She does not hear his approach.
    But then, she hadn’t been listening.

    Her eyes are closed against the stinging rain and she is acutely aware of the frantic beating of her heart as it struggles to warm her from the inside. As it reorients the flow of her blood from the limbs to the chest. And she’s gritting her teeth so fiercely that it’s a wonder they don’t shatter in her mouth. Pool blood and bone on her tongue. Because she was strong once and maybe one day she can be again.

    And again, it happens all at once. The same way it had at the edge of the river when she’d scurried away from the reach of the breaking ice and their bodies had collided and then immediately separated – repelled as if by some unseen force so quickly that she sometimes wonders if she hadn’t imagined it. The rain stops and the sound of his voice disrupts whatever pattern her thoughts had managed to arrange themselves into.

    It hitches her breath, rakes the air across the rust in her windpipe and she forces her eyes open. The heart adopts a newer, perhaps more frantic pulse and she shifts her focus from the sky to his face. Closer now than it had been at the edge of the river, even as he’d shouted at her, reduced her to nothing at all. She blinks at him, acutely aware of the heat that pools in her cheeks as she swallows.

    Is she? Is that what she’s after? She thinks about the aching in her chest and the rust in her throat and thinks maybe he’s right. She does not want to look away. She does not want him to think her weak. But she cannot help it because she cannot stand the heat in her cheeks or the way something in her swells with their proximity and the fact that he has lifted a wing over her back to protect her from the rain.

    Would it be so bad?” she asks then, quiet, contemplative. “Do you think?” her voice catches and she loathes the plaintive sound of it. “Do you think dying would be worse than this?

    lilian

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    Messages In This Thread
    everything kept moving, - by lilian - 09-13-2019, 12:20 AM
    RE: everything kept moving, - by brigade - 09-13-2019, 12:59 AM
    RE: everything kept moving, - by lilian - 09-19-2019, 07:32 PM



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