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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


    [open]  smoke and mirrors - any
    #1

    l i v i n i a
    such is life, such is death.


    It had taken her little time to reacclimate to her own body.  It was somewhat strange in the sense that she had been trapped in a feline body for the majority of her adolescence, and when she returned to her own body gone was the lanky awkwardness of her youth.  Regardless, this felt right deep down to her very bones.  And while there were times that she missed easy nature of inhabiting a predator, she was far more suited to this form.

    She knew she should try to find Jamie or Beyza – to let them know she’d been successful. Part of her was still ashamed she’d had to drag them both into her mess, but the more selfish part of her was just glad she had them and she had no plans of giving them up.  But still, it was strange that she did not feel immediately compelled to return to Pangea. She was sure that there was much – too much perhaps – that she had missed in her absence. Perhaps it was the same ripple of shame keeping her away.  She gritted her teeth at the thought before running her tongue over her sharp fangs.

    The presence of the fangs was a visceral reminder of the bloodlust that had not entirely abated.  It was quieter now – but still very much a part of her that she would never be rid of.  As a function of her strange existence, Livinia did not require things such as food and oxygen to survive. But the blood of others was her own lifeblood – and living so long as a predator had created a bloodlust in her.  Something akin to hunger, she supposed, though she could never be certain as she did not simply hunger.

    She resisted the urge to attempt to feed in this new body.  She did not require it now. Not yet, at least.  The silvery-gray mare smelled vaguely of smoke, as she always did, and as she drew beneath one of the ancient oaks in the meadow, she idly blew a smoke ring around one of the songbirds which promptly squeaked its displeasure before fleeing to the skies.  She watched as it ascended for a moment – remembering how only a few days ago how it would have been oh so amusing to swat it from the skies with a swipe of a paw.

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