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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


    Sweet dreams are made of this // Any
    #1
    Sweet, sweet sleep. It's a distant, far off thing most nights, but this evening I think I might have found it. The weight of exhaustion makes my head droop on the slender stem of my neck. It's a delicious blur on the edge of my mind, a fuzzy cloud that tempts me into its embrace. 

    Should have known it was too good to be true. 

    My eyes flutter shut. No sooner than they do, and the Voices start. They hiss in my ears, unintelligible at first, but growing louder the longer I ignore them...

    Slut. 
    Pretender. 
    Batshit bitch alone in the woods, no one to hear when you scream. They've all run away again, or they will soon. It's only a matter of time. Why would they trust you, like you? What have you ever done in your entire, endless life to deserve love or respect? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You are nothing

    "Haven't you got anything better to do?" With a belly deep moan, my eyes snap open again, the skies only just melting into their deep night blues. It's hot, and my flanks are dark with sweat, my heart beating an unsteady gallop. "Let me sleep. Please." I murmur, the shadows closing in on my quaking body. Oh I hate the night. I despise it. The way it holds the whispers, the gleaming eyes that vanish as soon as I look at them straight on. 

    I can't make it go any faster though. Day will come when it's good and ready and not a moment sooner. Not that I'll be able to sleep then, either. 

    The leaves crunch beneath my chipped hooves as I slowly move from the knoll I'd thought to settle into. It's no good. Not when I have to keep moving to keep the Voices at bay. One step after the other, wings fluttering absently in the dark. I can't decide if I'm haunted or if I'm the one doing the haunting.
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