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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


    the false side of hope; jet
    #1
    The longer she stayed the more she realized how strange this place was, and the more she was beginning to feel as though she didn’t belong.  There were so many odd and beautiful colors, so many abilities and talents - nothing of which she seemed to possess. 


     Wondering if such things were natural or gifts, Breckin passed by the hoards slowly, openly gawking with a wide-eyed stare.  She’s mildly cognisant, that these are all things she should be aware of, and all of these things she has more than likely seen before.  But the place where those memories should be are vacant, and therein lied the problem and her apparent infatuation with staring down the neighboring horses with such feverish curiosity it made some wonder if something was wrong with her.


    And most would never know the truth of it - that something was in fact off about her.  And others might know; those whom she had known before as Breckin in another life. It was incredibly frustrating that some may know her better than she knew herself then, it made her skin flush and heartbeat quicken and thud against her shallow chest.  But there was nothing she could do, nothing she could ask of anyone to fill in the gaps that Arthas could not because she had to protect the grey stallion. 


     She owed him that.


    This last person she passed by, she couldn’t inhibit herself.  Stopping a few paces away, she closed her eyes tightly and sighed heavily before rounding back to face them.  It didn’t matter what they looked like - she didn’t care in that ugly lapse in manners to pay attention.  All that mattered was that they looked as if they were living, breathing and had a voice.


      “Is everyone touched by magic here?”

    @[Jet]
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