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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]  always going to be some kind of escape
    #4
    I don't mind all the chaos, it keeps me alive

    Safety isn’t a concept she is fully aware of. Oh, she is wary enough, having learned the hard way why she must be. She might stand on skittish limbs, prepared to leap into the safety of her shadows. But never once had it occurred to her to seek safety by never investigating that which might prove dangerous.

    Though the ramshackle creature of stick and stone might appear fragile enough, Iska has learned better than to believe it might be. Yet she does not consider leaving well enough alone. The thought doesn’t even cross her mind.

    When it jerks to a halt with a shivering rattle, Iska flinches, though her avid gaze remains fixed on the creature. The woman’s answer draws a curious flick of her dark eyes, but they are just as quickly back on the ghost. It’s an unsatisfactory answer, she thinks. An answer that makes a not insignificant part of her wish to touch it, if for no other reason than to determine the truth of it.

    In fact, she has begun to inch towards it when the woman’s question freezes her cautious momentum. Her eyes shift back to the star-cloaked mare as the corners of her lips dip in a confused frown. She can’t quite place what the woman is talking about until a faint gesture at her muddied legs clarifies the question.

    Immediately her features brighten. “No,” she replies easily, a quick grin flashing across her expressive face. “I was digging in the mud.”

    With that cleared up, her gaze returns to the creature. Ghost. Whatever it is. It doesn’t occur to her that her brief answer might be just as unsatisfactory as the one she had received about this creature. She is already too distracted by it, her feet inching forward, nose stretching towards it as she exhales a tension-laced breath.

    She stills again, closer now than she was before. This time when she speaks, her eyes never leave the object of her curiosity. “If it’s a ghost, will I go through it if I touch it?”

    iska



    @Nostromo
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: always going to be some kind of escape - by Iska - 05-11-2023, 09:27 AM



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