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    Reave -- Year 219


    "She did not wake up one day healed, she was simply moving and she realized that somewhere along the way grief had stopped stabbing her every motion. It’s a strange feeling. She is lighter and heavier at once. She doesn’t know what to do with the time that’s opened before her, what to do without wounds to claw open." --Cordis, written by Cassi

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    [private]  don’t you want to hold the gun?
    sometimes i think i am free
    until i find i'm back in line again

    You shouldn’t be here.

    Maybe it had been enlightening, his time in Beqanna. Maybe it made for a cruel joke; but this was enough. He has had enough. Once Stratos feel from the sky like a devastating strike of lightning, Adrius made for the water as if his life depended on it.

    Adrius, you shouldn’t be here.

    He doesn’t care that he’s not supposed to be here. I don’t care, he snarls back at his father’s voice. His lips curl back in a silent growl as he races through the water, tail undulating rapidly behind him. He had to find his family, or any he might have called a friend, or even a Baltian stranger.


    Please shut up, he whimpers in his head. Danger from Stratos isn’t imminent. That isn’t why his heart is racing. If the wrong Baltian caught him here, he could be dragged back to the shores, bloodied and degraded—or even dead. There was once a time that his chest ached from a good-natured race through the algae and undergrowth, but even those memories are tarnished as he plows and plummets through Baltia.


    The glowing nereid comes to a seething halt, chest heaving with the weight of his effort. Eyes wild, he casts a glare around his dark surroundings, certain this time he had heard someone actually calling his name.

    @Squirt uh oh >:-)
    Normal wasn’t a thing that existed any more - and even Mesarez found himself longing for it. Or for something to happen. As it was, everything was just on edge all of the time and there was never the relief of stepping away or the finality of falling off. Just more of that lingering anxiety, day after day.

    There wasn’t even much to explore on the surface anymore, all of it swallowed by the sea or destroyed. He had toured through those remains - it had been surreal for the first few days, swimming through woods and over meadows. But those realms had to die eventually. Not everything was built for life beneath the sea, in the darkness.

    The restlessness does not fade away as time goes by - it compresses and deepens within him. Anxiety is a new feeling for Mesarez and he can’t say that he cares for it at all - how do people live like this? He does his best to keep it hidden when around the others, except those few closest to him. It is his job, after all, to remain the same boisterous prince that he has always been.

    Hiding the grief that the arrival of Stratos stirs up within him, hiding the uncertainty over so many things that gnaws at him.

    Mesarez is looking for a distraction, in whichever form it decides to take - and he finds one. It catches him off-guard at first, though he would never admit it. Rarely has someone who had been outcast been so blatant about returning to Baltia.

    “Adrius!” He shouts at the other Baltian once that momentary pause passes. It is a bark of a call, a soldier’s call, with an edge to it that he doesn’t really intend.

    Because now, in addition to the anxieties he had already been feeling - here is another. Mesarez swims over, his expression a muddled mess of everything going on in his mind - silver pupils darting around. He knows what he is supposed to do, but he hesitates to do it all the same. Shouting pleads inside his head that no one else finds them, because then he will have only one choice of what role to play.

    He does not want to harm this stallion - he believes he knows full well what would have driven him to being here, to taking this incredible risk.

    “You shouldn’t be here.” More harsh, clipped words - but his eyes continue to move around, the fins on his long tail shaking with his irritation and fear.


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