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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


    Deep in the darkness lies my beating heart [Yanhua]
    #1

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    The day is new. The sun is just beginning to peek out over the mountains in the distance, shining on the tops of the massive redwoods strewn throughout Taiga. Mother was still asleep, looking peaceful. It was rare to see her at peace, so I always enjoyed these moments when I would wake before her. She doesn’t know that I can feel her sadness every day. I had done a pretty good job of hiding that from her since I was born. I had always wondered what had made her so sad, but I finally understood (at least a little bit) when we had come to this land, Taiga, as she had told me it was named. It was in that moment we had first rounded that fateful bend to find the flaxen stallion before us. I could see the pain in her eyes, but most of all, I felt it. Not only that, but I had seen it. He had betrayed her, or at least that’s how she had felt about it.

    I’m not sure how I should feel about this. My loyalties were to my mother, the mare who always had a smile for me, no matter how much her heart hurt. But this stallion, Yanhua, was also someone who should be important to me. I knew from the moment I saw him that this must be my father. The word felt odd in my mind, almost like poison. I didn’t like it. Still, I was curious. So as the grey mare slept peacefully, I carefully pull my small figure to a standing position. With one last look back at her, I set out along an unfamiliar path, determined to find him. 

    I am young and naïve, which is probably what prompted me to leave mother’s side without any idea of where I was going or what I was doing. I amble along, taking in the sights and sounds around me. The trees here are massive, larger than any trees I’d ever seen before (and there had been a lot on our journey here), and beneath them, a healthy understory of ferns and moss and saplings grows thick. Curious, I wander from the path to be among the trees. Soon enough, I found myself lost among the redwoods. I couldn’t have found my way back to mother if I tried, and a panic begins to set in. What had I gotten myself into now?

    I stop among a blanket of ferns and look back. The path is now a distant memory, far from my sight. Fear wells up in my eyes, and a weak bleat falls from my lips. “Mama?” I whimper. She was far away, though, and my whisper would be heard only by the spirit of the trees. I could have curled up right there and cried myself to sleep, but the likelihood of ever being found here was probably small, so I turn back the way I had come and try to follow my footsteps back. That task proves difficult, and I find myself more lost than before.

    I weave in and out of the trees, ferns brushing gently against my spindly legs. By now, I can’t stop the low whimpers from falling off my lips every few seconds. I was just about to give up, to curl my legs beneath me and cry myself to sleep, when my hooves find a path through the forest. I can see the worn tracks of horses and other forest-dwelling creatures stretching out in either direction. With relief, I fall to the ground, curling my hooves beneath me in defeat. At least now, someone might find me and help me back to mother’s side. Why had I left her in the first place? I lay my head down, my lips gently kissing the red soil beneath me.

    memorie

    Photo by Saffu from Unsplash


    @[Yanhua]
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    #2

    And when all the lights are broken, You keep the fire going

    Yan had never wanted Borderline to leave, but he would’ve never stopped her from going if that’s what she wanted. Clearly, it’d been her plan all along. Their winter’s love faded into summer and then grew into something beautiful, something tangible and real, but a rose cannot bloom alone in the midst of a foggy wood, and so their young connection couldn’t grow in the shadow of his coupling with Amarine. He understood, but he’d never wanted it to be that way. If Yan were the argumentative type he would’ve given her a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t have gone - Beqanna was dangerous, he still loved her, they had a child together. He’s not, though. Not the kind of horse who argues or tries to be a stone against rushing water, and Borderline has lived a life like the river for so long now it seemed senseless to try and dissuade her from making her own decisions.

    She’d come home with @[Memorie] in the end, and so Yanhua had done his best to swim with the current of her emotions instead of redirecting them by force when they bent wildly beyond his control.

    In the meantime he stayed with @[Amarine]; that’s where he’s needed most. Cheri and Reynard needed constant attention and Ama needed his help every hour she could manage to steal it from him. By now he’d told her the truth: Borderline had come home and their twins had a half-sibling. (To this day he still doesn’t know that somewhere, out there, an eldest child of his is alive and well.)

    In the hours he can spare, he divides his time by being the ghost in the shadows. He knows where Borderline sleeps at night, watches from afar how she tucks Memorie in and comforts their daughter while the light of the sun sinks below the horizon and the stars come out dancing in full-form. On the darker, foggier nights they seek shelter elsewhere, but even those places aren’t secret from the flaxen-haired stallion. He’d been gifted from birth with the ability to turn his body into a living key: no tree, rock, or bush could stop him. Even if Yanhua couldn’t have slipped like a lantern imp through the forest, he’d force himself into tight spaces anyway just to be sure that Borderline and Memorie were safe.

    That’s the kind of love he’ll always have for them. A love that has him up early enough to catch the blue tail-end of his daughter slipping away from her sleeping mother in the early hours of the morning. On hooves that barely make a sound, Yanhua glides not far off where Memorie explores, quiet and contemplative at his daughter’s natural curiosity. He longs to intercept her, but she’d not been receptive at their first meeting and Yanhua isn’t the type of father to insert himself where he’s not wanted. He’s not like Wolfbane his own father. He refused to be like him. Not until Memorie’s whimpers are louder than her small hoofsteps does he finally make himself known by gliding out onto the red-dirt path where she lies, lonesome and sad in a tight ball of anxiety.

    “Darling,” Yanhua murmured deeply towards the filly, tall and wizened but ever so gently approaching, “why did you leave your mother?” He smiled.

    And when all the nights feel like they're closing, You're leaving an opening

    Reply
    #3

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    The silence of the forest is deafening. It makes the seconds stretch into minutes, and the minutes into hours. It feels like a lifetime of laying there, crying into my knees, when in reality, it was probably only a matter of minutes. In those minutes, my mind wanders far from this little corner of the woods in which I lay. I wonder what mother is doing now. Had she woken up and panicked that I was gone? This was such a terrible idea, wandering away from her. She was probably freaking out, as we speak.

    Though it is summer, the morning is still somewhat cold, and now that I’m not walking, the cold sets in, biting at my thin coat. I begin to shiver. Perhaps it was the cold, perhaps it was the anxiety running through my veins. Part of me wanted to get up and run, but I had no idea where I was. Mother and I had only been here for a few days, and I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to explore the lands yet. Not only that, but the place where I was born had been a massive meadow, so there wasn’t a lot of forest to explore. This entire world was foreign and, now that I was on my own, scary. I should have waited for mother to get up.

    I am so consumed by my own emotions that I don’t sense the stallion approaching. Nor do I hear his cloven hooves on the soft earth of the trail. It is his voice that raises me. The melodic sound rings into the chilly morning air like a lullaby. Still, it startles me, and the moment I hear it, I scramble to my hooves, clumsily whipping around to face him.

    My first impression of him is that he is so big. I mean, I’d met him before, when mother and I had first come here, but without her by my side, the world felt bigger, and he did, too. It could also be the fact that I’m scared witless right now. My legs tremble beneath me, and my eyes are large saucers, the whites obvious on the edges of my blue eyes, blue eyes that match his. My color is the same as his, as well, well, except the fact that my tail was blue (a detail that bothered me, since my mane wasn’t blue to match).

    He asks me why I’d left my mother, and for a moment, all I can do is stand there and gawk up at him, my mouth falling open idiotically. I blink for a few seconds, then shake my head, my soft, flaxen mane wiggling like jello. “Um…” I say, unsure of what to say exactly. “Mama was sleeping, and I… I hesitate for a moment, shifting my eyes down to the ground while I shuffle my hooves in the dirt. “I wanted to see you, actually.”

    Now that he’s here, though, I’m not sure exactly what I wanted to see him for of what I wanted to say. I mean, there had been a thousand questions in my mind before about him, none that I’d asked mother. I’d been afraid to mention him, because I knew that she was sad about him, and I didn’t want to make her anymore sad than she already was. All of those questions, however, had simply flown from my mind the second I realized he was there, and instead, I’m left standing there before him, looking like an idiot.

    memorie

    Photo by Saffu from Unsplash


    @[Yanhua]
    Reply
    #4

    And when all the lights are broken, You keep the fire going

    Once upon a time, Yanhua had been in Memorie’s hooves. The world had been too big and too lonesome, and Lilliana had gone away. His own father had only ever come around when it suited his needs, and the wake of memories Wolfbane he left behind often made Yanhua sick, even as a colt. In the absence, something must’ve taken root in Yanhua. He has to believe in that, else why would he have grown so tall? Why would the ghosts, the memories of horses long gone, be remembered by him and not forgotten? After realizing that he was just a pinecone yet to sprout, the world hadn’t seemed so big and scary, and soon enough Yanhua was left looking down instead of always gazing up.

    He thinks this is what his daughter needs: a reminder that Taiga won’t always be so big, that her mother might not always be so sad, and of course the idea that Yanhua wasn’t nearly as threatening as he seemed on first appearances.

    “You did?!” He laughs, booming. The air around his skin vibrates with invisible life, making it seem as if he’s laughing to the sound of falling raindrops when there are none. Yan had a way of laughing with his entire body, throwing his horns back and opening his mouth to shake the pale tassels under his chin.

    “Well, here I am little one.” He looked down at @[Memorie] again, drifting closer with the steady grace of a lumbering elk. His hide was burnished copper, gleaming with health and immortal vigor, and the roll of lean muscle underneath the pretty skin belied a stallion whose athleticism could carry him far and wide on four legs. Yan had never been curious enough to wonder what he might’ve looked like through another’s memories, but in this instant he finds his curiosity overcome by the way Memorie trembles beneath his loving gaze, so he catches an echo of himself in her recollection by opening up his powers to her strong emotions.

    “There’s no need to be afraid. I’m happy to see you.” Yanhua encouraged her, lowering his whiskered nose so that Memorie could sniff at it if she liked. “Would you like me to show you the way back?” He asked. “Then you won’t feel so lost, and we can talk about anything you’ve got on your mind.”

    And when all the nights feel like they're closing, You're leaving an opening

    Reply
    #5

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    I didn’t normally think the world was so big and scary, which is probably why I had wandered away in the first place. I mean, I had wandered off plenty of times before, and I was always able to make my way back to mother. Today, however, the world had shown me just how big and scary it could really be in this unfamiliar land with the massive trees that tower over everything. It left me feeling weak in the knees, even now that someone had found me, and that someone had been exactly who I meant to see in the first place.

    Normally, I wouldn’t have been intimidated by his size, either. Instead, I would have been intimidated by the socializing aspect of the encounter, unsure of how to act. However, the world had shown me that it is indeed big and scary. So, of course, now I have to deal with both. I mean, it helped a tiny bit to talk, but still, after that, when I could only stand there staring at him like a deer in headlights, I start to worry that he might think I’m daft. I feel myself getting hot in the face.

    And then he laughs. The sound startles me at first, and I flinch, a loud gasp forcing its way through my lips. But then I recognize the sound as laughter, and it gives me pause. For a brief second, I’m not sure of what to do, but then I smile, a soft, shy smile, but a smile nonetheless. It helps that he is so vibrant and…alive. Still, it’s hard for me to laugh when I feel so confused and afraid.

    Yes, here he is, and I’m still not sure how to feel about that. As he moves in slightly closer, I shift my gaze even further upward. Again, I am struck by just how big he is. Something deep within me whispers: all the better to protect you. And suddenly, I feel slightly more comfortable. Still, the idea that this is him, my father and the stallion who broke mother’s heart, leaves me feeling breathless and unsure of myself.

    It almost feels like an out of body experience, because suddenly I feel as if I am seeing me seeing him through his eyes. A very confused look spreads across my face for a moment, because it almost felt like those moments when I was seeing my mother’s emotional memories.

    Then he speaks again, and I can’t help thinking, no need to be afraid?! Well, there’s plenty to be afraid of. It’s not that I thought he would physically harm me or anything like that. No, I had seen enough of mother’s emotional memories to know that he was a kind and gentle soul, and even now, I could see the love reflected from his emotional memories–a skill I had not yet learned to block out. It’s more that I am afraid of making a fool out of myself, kind of exactly like I’m doing now. And though I knew he wouldn’t harm me, he could hurt me, and I am afraid of that, too. He could break my heart like he had done to mother. He could disappear on me. He could choose his other family over me.

    Even still, mother had once told me that fear was no reason not to do something, and sometimes the best reason to do it. Of course, she had also reminded me that danger is a reason not to do something (which is probably why I shouldn’t have wandered away from her in the first place). So I shift my weight to try appearing tall and strong, despite still feeling slightly weak in the knees, and I give him a determined look. I would give him the benefit of the doubt on this one. After all, I’m already here, aren’t I?

    I gently lift my face close to his, brushing the whiskers beneath his chin with my nostrils, a feature I share with him. I lift my face still higher, sniffing his nose. I can see that he is the same color I am, and has the same color mane as me, with the same cloven hooves. I knew I looked like him, I could see it in my mother’s memories sometimes when she’d look upon me, but it was different to see it in person.

    When he asks if I would like him to show me the way back, I shake my head. “No…” I hesitate, worried what he might think or say, “I want to be with you.” Suddenly, I feel like this sounds stupid, and once again, I feel my face growing flush.

    memorie

    Photo by Saffu from Unsplash


    @[Yanhua]
    Reply
    #6

    And when all the lights are broken, You keep the fire going

    Something about blood, about balance and the world around them as it centered upon magic, something about the yin and yang of life has Yanhua reeling from his emotions to hers and back again. In an instant, Memorie reflects her father and her father reflects Memorie: they are mirrors of one another, infinitae virtutis.

    In the next second, it’s gone. A gust of air leaves Yan’s lungs: a breath he’d been holding in that he hadn’t been aware of, whoosing out like a sigh that makes the sound of a glass windchime. He smiled at Memorie’s confusion and suddenly knew what her mother had suspected all along, that they shared gifts one in the same like he shared with his mother, Lilliana. All at once his world shifts again, because he has two foals who’ll need his help in the days to come and a third who has yet to understand what she’s meant for in the world. For once he’s infinitely grateful to have been the one nearby when Memorie needed him, and he promises himself he’ll continue to be that horse regardless of circumstances between himself and Borderline.

    She gave him and his outstretched nose a moment’s worth of consideration and then, gathering her wits and strength about her, @[Memorie] reached out to touch and complete the cycle of familial love with Yanhua. They bonded, and her sire wiggled his lips so as to tickle her own with the fuzziness of his bearded chin.

    “Well then, here I am. And a good thing, too!” Yan smiled down at her when they parted once again, flicking his golden tail side-to-side as he struck out to walk along the bare path leading to nowhere. Perhaps, he thought, Memorie would like a little open air. He would show her a special place - the meadow where he and Borderline had first met, most likely blooming and full of tasty things to eat this time of year. His steps were sure and steadfast; he led the way without watching where they were going.

    “Tell me, little love: have you noticed things about your mother or other horses? Things about them they didn’t necessarily tell you out loud?” Yan questioned his daughter lightly, wanting her to puzzle and ponder for a minute or two before he gave the secret away. Grinning, he decided to give her another hint. “Things like knowing when another is sad, or happy?” Yan prodded his daughter.

    And when all the nights feel like they're closing, You're leaving an opening

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    #7

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    His sigh sounds like a song, and I am instantly drawn to it. It makes me feel more calm, like a lullaby that gently pulls me into a restful slumber. I am still a little bit on edge, but I am finding myself less and less so as each second ticks by. After all, I had never been a terribly shy child, as can be seen by my reckless journey into the unknown Taigan woods.

    When his little whiskers tickle my nose, I giggle unexpectedly, then sneeze. And when I looked back up at him, his smile and kind words make me feel even more at ease. I admire his fully grown horns. Would mine be like that some day? And his bearded chin, do I have those whiskers, too? I find myself crossing my eyes, looking down my nose as if I would be able to see.

    When he begins to move away, I watch after him curiously, wondering if he means for me to follow. When he doesn’t stop, I assume that I should, so I burst into a trot to catch up with him. As I come up on his side, I slow to a quick walk to keep up with his long legs. Well, actually, it’s more like a prance, my legs moving synchronistically together in a dance that I had learned from mother.

    At his question, I chew on the words for a moment. I think I know what he means. I mean, I’ve been able to see mother’s emotional memories from the day I was born. I had never mentioned this to her, because I know how hard she tries to be happy for me, and I don’t want to disappoint her. I’m not entirely sure that’s what he means, though, so I wait a moment to see if he would give me a hint, which follows shortly after.

    I look up at him. Somehow, I know that he knows of my gift (one of several, though two of those gifts I have yet to discover). “Yes,” I say, hesitantly. “I can see mama’s painful memories.” Saying it out loud gives me a moment’s pause. Those painful memories often consisted of him and a black, jewel crusted mare. Some had been from her past, before Beqanna, but those were mere wisps compared to the memories of @[Yanhua], as though the pain was more salient.

    Not only that, but if he knows of my gift, that I can only imagine he shares the same gift. And then I start to worry that these worries would leak into his own thoughts. I look away, hoping this would shield my worries from him. I also try to shift my thoughts away from those painful memories that I’d seen, though that proves harder to do. In the end, I ask him, “What does it mean that I can see others’ painful memories?” A part of me wonders if it’s not just painful memories, though. Could I see other memories as well?

    memorie

    Photo by Saffu from Unsplash
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    #8

    And when all the lights are broken, You keep the fire going

    Bless the winds and the highest treetops: his daughter was gifted. She said as much herself, but the joy it aroused inside Yan’s chest was equal to the despair he felt in a breath or two of concerned worry. Their abilities were not like the abilities of other horses, those who could tear and eat flesh or change their shape. Father and daughter weren’t worldly - but otherworldly, having tapped into a side of magic that never seemed clear-cut or equal in its dispensation. Again, Yanhua sighed: hearing that @[Memorie] could read her mother’s sadder thoughts as emotional echoes was a painful realization he’d been dreading, but it was an inescapable one now. He had a duty to her and Reynard that they should grow up well-aware of what they could handle, and what they ought not to touch with their mind’s power.

    Most importantly - and he feels it now, with Memorie doing her best to shield what she was feeling from her father - Yanhua had an obligation to encourage his daughter and son to be open with him, to be open with their feelings. These were things that could not be stemmed by any means, physical or otherwise. Eventually, they came rushing through despite how high a horse built their walls. He looked aside, down where Memorie pranced by his longer legs, and smiled knowingly but chose to remain quiet.

    “It means that you have a power inside of you, Memorie. The power to help or to hurt, because you see past the veil of what your eyes tell you. You and I, and your half-brother Reynard, and even others like us but not related to us… we all ‘see’ the secret things that horses hold inside their hearts and minds.” He did his best to explain. There was more, of course. There was always more. But for now this would be a beginning to a wider expansion of knowledge for his and Borderline’s beautiful girl.

    “They don’t always have to be painful or sad, though. With a little practice, I can teach you to distinguish the good from the bad. I could even teach you to stop seeing memories for a while, and trust me: that comes in handy sometimes.” Her father laughed, deep-throated. “Would you like that?” He asked her.

    And when all the nights feel like they're closing, You're leaving an opening

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    #9

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    When I look back up at @[Yanhua], I could tell that my admission pains him. It sends a brief flash of his memory from when mother had confronted him, and I could feel the remnants of his pain. And rather than feel scared, I felt guilty. Had I done something wrong?

    Truth be told, these brief memories had not exactly translated into hardship for me. I felt that each time I had received one of these painful memories from Borderline, that I had been drawn in ever closer to my mother. It had never scared me. It had never scarred me. I saw myself as helping her, and that felt good. It felt right. It had never taken away from my life, as one might expect. It actually had the effect of making me older and wiser beyond my age, while I still enjoyed every minute of my childhood to the fullest.

    I wish I could convey that to my father now. And unbeknownst to me, he could see a memory of comfort in which I had given my mother a nudge in her sadness to lessen the pain. The memory sent remnants of the happiness we had shared with it as well.

    When he looks down at me, I look up at him, hoping to not trip on a root in the process. Luckily, it is a happy glance that ends with him giving me a lengthy description of this strange, but oddly satisfying gift. I look back down at where I am going, taking some time to really think through his words. They were more than a little confusing for a tiny filly such as myself, so it takes me a moment to really process the things he says.

    When he says that the memories don’t always have to be sad, I tilt my head and look up at him, as though this little piece of information had peaked my interests–which it had. I had never really experienced any happy memories. Mother and I had made plenty of happy memories, but… Actually, when I really start to think about it, there had been moments where some of these happy memories had randomly popped into my head, and suddenly, I realize that I had, in fact, been seeing her happy memories as well!

    A big grin breaks across my face, and I skip a beat on the path, picking up my little hooves in a kind of dance.

    “Yes, I would like that!” I say, breathlessly. For the first time since I had left mother’s side, I felt truly glad that I had gone out in search of my father. Despite the fear and confusion that had led me here, this felt right. In response to this feeling, I gently bump his side with my shoulder and give him a wide smile. “Thank you–” I begin, then stop. I had wanted to call him ‘daddy’, but a part of me was still afraid to. Would he want to be called that? Was it too soon? Did I want to call him that?

    memorie

    Photo by Saffu from Unsplash
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    #10

    And when all the lights are broken, You keep the fire going

    Yanhua wants the world for his children. He’s knows it’s an impossible task, that the world doesn’t bend to grant favors to any horse in particular, but he reasons that if he works hard enough, loves hard enough, raises his children correctly and sees to it that they want for nothing, then perhaps Taiga will become a world of wonders for them to return home to - wherever their individual journeys in life lead them.

    He thinks that for himself and Memorie, this little walk to the meadow might be a good start in that direction. Yanhua worries a little, but not so much about her sharing his strange gift. Theirs is a taxing and rewarding sort of power, ebbing and flowing as it comes. He only really worries how it might affect @[Memorie], considering his own childhood had been a rather lonely and sad kind (aside from his twin and Brazen, and Elena). He expected that it would be hard living with a mother working through adult problems, problems that little foals shouldn’t have to see or concern themselves with, but Memorie not only shows she can handle that much and more with a little echo, she also proves that Yanhua had gravely miscalculated just how wonderful his daughter could be.

    It seemed like Borderline needed Memorie more than Yan had realized, and what was concerning only moments ago was now familial pride. He explained as best he could, knowing that in her life there would be many teachers coming and going to help his little Memorie become master of her own world. He hoped, at the very least, that his contribution would help her blossom into the beauty she was certainly becoming.

    “Dad. You can call me dad, or Pappa Yan.” He laughed at his daughter’s playful antics, reaching out to nip the air above her head harmlessly. Dad or daddy was fine; for some reason he couldn’t understand, Cheri had taken to calling him Pappa Yan. He assumed she was still puzzling out the family dynamics, given their … unconventional group. “Let’s start right now, shall we?“ He challenged Memorie, now that the two were breaking through the forest and entering the clear, bright meadow.

    Small clusters of white flowers sprouted everywhere, carpeting most of the clearing, but where they didn’t touch the earth was where fresh clumps of grass drank in the sunlight. The crop was lovely this time of year, green at the tip and almost blue near the soil where it sprouted. Delicious enough that Yan was enticed to swoop his head down and yank a cluster free from the dirt to take a nibble. He allowed Memorie a moment or two to herself, then swallowed and rested his legs as he spoke.

    “I’m going to send you an echo, but I want you to close your eyes and get a feel for it.” He asked of her. In his mind, he plucked the ripe memory of him and his twin here many years ago, come to frolic with Lilliana before she’d gone away. Yanhua did his best to make the memory clear and sharp, then he shoved the echo out from himself with a mental push and let it ripple across the space between himself and Memorie.

    “Concentrate for a minute.” His voice had lowered, softened. “Feel the memory before you see it in your mind’s eye. Notice how your body reacts, how you visualize it, and then how it slips away again afterwards.” Yanhua schooled her.

    “The more you recognize your gift and understand how it works, how familiar you become with it’s touch and unique sensation, then the easier it’ll be to recognize in the future and stop it from coming altogether.” He murmured gently.

    And when all the nights feel like they're closing, You're leaving an opening

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