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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


    [mature]  i tried to sell my soul last night; Ryatah
    #1

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    Were his heart not four sizes too small, he might have actually heard and answered the call. As it is, he really couldn’t give a fuck one way or the other. At least, until some rude-ass motherfucker threw the gates to the afterlife wide open. Which, believe it or not, he actually has some familiarity with.

    Weird, right?

    Of course, he’s died enough goddamned times he can practically feel it shivering across his spine for fuck’s sake. Some idiot CLEARLY didn’t know what the fuck they were doing. Still, the knowledge puts him in a pretty shit mood. Not that he isn’t already perpetually in a shit mood. Semantics.

    But goddammit all to hell, when one knows what the afterlife is like, it can make the real world look pretty shitty sometimes. Especially when one knows all too fucking well they’re destined to be plopped right back into said shithole. Still, a few things made it worthwhile. And those few things were all that gave Ashhal his cheerful, sunny disposition.

    Good thing his sense of humor is still intact, right?

    Even all of that isn’t enough to actually make him do a damned thing. He has absolutely zero fucking interest in learning what kind of fresh bullshit had been brewed up lately. And so, he does what he does best. Takes a damn nap.

    Which is where one might find him, sprawled in a patch of bright sunlight, wings spread wide, were one so inclined. Of course, he doesn’t know who the fuck would actually be inclined. What with his massive horde of precisely zero friends and all. Makes life peaceful though.

    And boring as fuck sometimes. But you know what they say about choosing beggars. Not that that has ever stopped him.

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    #2

    She isn’t sure why she has felt more lost than she ever has before.

    Her journey to the afterlife had bred more questions than it had answered, and she had left that haunted wasteland feeling restless and perplexed. The weightless halo that glowed above her head felt like it was crushing her; the white and gold feathers of her wings felt like they may as well have been made of lead. And that new golden warmth that flowed in her veins, with a peculiar power she has never felt before, made her feel like a stranger in her own body.

    But the physical changes didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the emotional ones.

    Going to the afterlife in search of Dhumin felt like it had yanked her back into the past. She remembers when he had first disappeared how it taken her months to stop searching for him, to stop thinking every flash of pale skin was him. She remembers the insurmountable guilt she had felt the first time she let Skellig touch her, because it wasn’t him. How she had been so afraid of what she was going to do when Dhumin came back and discovered she had a birthed a child that wasn’t his.

    And now all that old guilt, and all those old wounds she had worked to keep covered, felt like they were flayed wide open.

    It’s why when she sees Ashhal she feels a sudden rush of shame flush across her. Her heart squeezes anxiously in her chest, because the life that still grew inside of her was his. Maybe Dhumin had noticed when she saw him in the afterlife, and that was why even when the gates had opened he wasn’t here. Because she was a disappointment, she was used, and no matter how angelic her new appearance might be she was still the same worthless thing she had always been on the inside.

    “I swear all you do is sleep,” she says once she is close enough, because she never could resist cutting herself on a familiar blade. “Except for when you’re doing that other thing you’re always doing.” The sunlight glistens off the golden tips of her feathers, and that amused simper seems out of place beneath her halo, but the impossible darkness of her eyes are still haunted with all the same ghosts she’s always had as she watches him.

    Ryatah
    even angels have their wicked schemes
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    #3

    I tried to sell my soul last night
    Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

    Shame is a foreign emotion to him. Honestly, if anyone should feel it, it should be him. But what’s the fucking point? He already has enough shit to worry about. Forget adding another joy thief of a fucking emotion. He would take his little amusements where he could and fuck anyone who had the temerity to actually judge him for it. The only ones they were making into miserable cunts were themselves anyway.

    Not that that is something he’s doing much ruminating on. Truth be told, if one could find a single damned thought inside his head at the moment, it would be a miracle. Of course, this would be how Ryatah found him.

    Fuck it though, she already knows what a goddamned mess he is. Pretty sure the bar’s set pretty damn low with this one. Well, with anyone really.

    When her voice interrupts his nap, his lips tug into a scowl before he even manages to open his eyes. The minute they do pop open however, he squints at her, staring for a long, silent moment before a low “Fuuuuuuckkk” escapes his lips in a drawn out groan.

    Very flattering no doubt.

    With a grunt, he pulls himself sternal, shaking his head abruptly as he does so. Still, he doesn’t bother actually getting to his feet before squinting with irritable confusion at her. “God dammit, turn that shit off,” he grumbles, blinking as though it might clear his vision before releasing a drawn out sigh. “What the hell’d you do?”

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