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  • Beqanna


    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]  i know the rain like the clouds know the sky
    yes i know that love is like ghosts,
    few have seen it but everybody talks —

    She thinks she can still feel the magic, sometimes.
    It’s the quiet echo of a melody she only heard once, the lingering ghost of something that was never fully alive.
    A memory, that felt more like a dream.

    But she remembers it—she remembers what it felt like for her soul to finally go quiet, she remembers the soft peace that had settled over her like a veil. She remembers the relief, the elation, the realization that she could have some kind of control over her curse, now.

    And she remembers, too, what it had felt like when it was ripped from her. The way she had not noticed the creeping shadows until it was too late, but more important, how the magic seemed eager to abandon her, as if it had only settled for her out of necessity.

    She tries not to think about it, and the whispers of the dead make it easy to do so.
    Their voices returned to her mind with new fervor, as if they were annoyed that she had used magic to block them out.

    She did not have the energy to keep them at bay, most days, and so today she stands along the shoreline that makes up the southernmost tip of the riverlands, right where the river empties into the sea, letting the sound of the water drown out the ghosts inside her head.
    — spirits follow everywhere i go,
    they sing all day and they haunt me in the night

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