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    Assailant -- Year 226


    "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]  It's been a long year and we're not even halfway there
    suffocate the fire  i started--------------------
    right when it kindles

    Something within Myrna had changed when she’d come back through the portal.

    It had taken her some time to find it. Pinning down something altered in a body that she can change on a whim is no easy task, even for a shifter as experienced as Myrna. The palomino mare stands, eyes closed, beside the stone statue she’d brought to the Gates, imagining that the presence of the entity lends her search some magic aid.

    There it is.

    Her blue-grey eyes fly open when she discovers what the Sprites had done. The flash of bravery that had propelled her through the portal remains within her chest, a reserve of courage.

    But it has only been resting there.
    It has been waiting, it seems, waiting for her to find it.

    And when she finally does, standing quietly in the softly drifting snow, it begins to transform.

    When she had aided in the destruction of the barrier between worlds, Myrna had become shadowed. The smoke-like shapes would move around her, merge and separate, twist and turn, then coalesce into eerie shapes before dropping away to twine around her legs. She has been unable to rid herself of them in any of her shapes.

    Now they begin to move away from her, and then rise up, becoming a palpable shape. The shadows become blackness, a dark so deep that Myrna imagines she can see things moving within. A flash of lightning illuminates the shape, and it turns toward her with a head that it had not possessed a moment ago.

    The lightning had come from Myrna herself, another remnant of the magical tornado that had destroyed her home. It leaves her alongside with the shadows, darting across the space between them with eerie blue-white light.

    The head that turned toward her is followed by a neck, and then a body. Myrna narrows her eyes, trying to determine exactly what the thing is through the swirling shadows and flashing lightning. As she does, the glittering magics finally solidify, and the creature begins to rush toward her.

    Though she’s not sure how she knows it, Myrna is certain that the animal means her no harm. It is the same palest yellow as she is, and its glittering sharp teeth are as white as her spiraling horns. The shaggy dog places its two large front paws on her shoulder, and licks enthusiastically at her face with a wet pink tongue. Myrna giggles and shakes her head, then nudges playfully at the dog, who is now looking up at her with an enthusiastically waving tail.

    “Well hello there,” she says. “You’re certainly a much prettier sight than those shadows and lightning.” The dog’s woof is a clear agreement, and Myrna smiles.

    The pair of them spend the rest of the afternoon near the willow forest, and when night begins to fall Myrna follows the dog (which she’s named Feather) as he pursues the glowing blue rabbits. He never catches them, not even when he flies on his short wings, but Myrna greatly enjoys watching his efforts.

    She remembers the osprey and gryffen of her childhood, the companions of her family. That the winged dog is her Companion, she is quite sure. How the magic had worked she does not understand at all, but that is no strange thing. For all her talents, she has no deep understanding of arcane mechanics of the world around her.


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