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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


    [open]  All We Have is Our Temperament | Any
    #1
    Empyrea
    Bathory, at her core, was a cruel woman. Her intentions were centered only around self and vanity, she carried only the grace of her shallow mind. Even with her young age, Empyrea knew her mother would not change, no matter how much she tried to sing sense to the golden mare's ears. She had viewed her as competition, despite being her own flesh and blood, her mother viewed her only as something in her way. In truth, Empyrea knew this was solely because of appearance. Bathory hated that her own daughter could be born more beautiful than herself in her eyes, she cast the rainbow kissed filly to the side, and had given her no love. The only kindness the blood stained narcissist had shown her was a side to sleep next to, and milk to drink, just as she had done for Padmarashka. 

    Though saddened, the filly did not allow her mother's self-centered actions to dishearten her from her own goals. Golden eyes gazed upwards towards the Sun, and silently thanked it for the warmth it gave her. She let the rays embrace her, the warmth sinking into her flesh and soothing her worries. Inspired, Empyrea focused for a moment to create her own small orb of light; and, though it only lasted a few seconds, it was brilliant in its short lifespan. It twinkled for a few seconds in front of her, and soon faded, gone before it could be appreciated by any eyes besides her own. She was still young, and still had much to learn about creating light and maintaining it for more than a few seconds at a time, and each attempt tired her still.

    Gracefuly and almost without weight, her feet carried her to the shelter of a tree's shade, offering cool grass below which welcomed her as she laid down. Here in the shade, her rainbow sheen was not as strong, not completely gone, but not so obvious as it had been within the sunlight. The shade humbled her in a way she wished her mother could appreciate, it took away the very thing that her mother wished she could grasp for herself. White and gold curls cascaded around her and pooled in the grass, brushing against her spotted coat delicately. A heavy and satisfied sigh escaped her as she allowed herself to relax, taking in the scenery around her, the leaves showing signs of browning in the crisp Autumn air. 
    all I am is meant to bleed and bloom
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    #2

    The white filly had been crouching in the grasses, playing at her predatory stalking of meadowlarks and sparrows. Her orange and green shock of a mane loomed like a shark’s fin over the golden stalks, obvious enough for the birds to simply eye her skeptically and carry on about their morning reports. She studied their movements, their comings and goings, noticing their spring plumage had been shed for a more subdued ensemble.

    She didn’t want to hurt them, oh no – she was the child of Astarael only at the basest of levels. Her proud brother Persius was a much more enticing subject for mother, a more promising protégé who had inherited her prized abilities. They had shared a womb and little else. Persiphae was the observer, the quiet one, studious and reserved. Slipping away into the mist and woods came easily to her, aided by the fact that none of their eyes were ever turned her way.

    A rainbow flashed in the distance, catching Persiphae’s attention just in time for her to behold the tiny globe of pure light form before a filly about her age. It flickered and vanished, gone like a wave against the shore. She was breathtaking, from her dappled gold spots and nearly blinding iridescence to her gilded curls that pooled around her as she relaxed beneath the tree.

    Persiphae blinked her green eyes, bright with curiosity yet darkened by reserve. She had made her way near to Empyrea on fleet feet, parting the grasses delicately first with a single hoof and then her soft muzzle. The yearling slipped out into the sunlight to hover just outside the tree’s long shadows.

    “How did your hair grow so long?” she asked shyly, her tone softening the bluntness of the question.

    Persiphae

    Image from Unsplash

    @[Empyrea]
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