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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


    Gold teeth grey goose {Open to all}
    #1

    Geremy

    Black orbs scanned the horizon. Midday, the sun was high and shining down in life-giving rays, nourishing the tender spring grasses and the young flowers that were budding up through the dark soft earth. A few trees were dotted here and there, just beginning to turn that bright, spring green as they did every year. The breeze was warm and gentle, barely pulling at the longer hairs of Geremy's magnificent, charcoal-hued tail. Ah what a beautiful day to cause some problems.

    A small butterfly, tinted varying shades of yellow and red, landed on the stud's back, and without thought he swatted his tail. The insect, now contorted and crippled into an unnatural shape, spun violently as it crashed to the ground. Geremy glanced at it, mumbling something about how stupid those fluttering critters are before turning his head to look for his real prey. Not to kill, no, that was far too much work. If there was one thing his bitch of a mother had taught him it was that tearing apart the confidence and any hope and faith an equine might have was much easier and much more fun than tearing apart their flesh. Once they died physically, there was nothing more to watch. If they only died inside, on the other hand, it would ruin their life, making them wish they were dead. The ebony stud was thinking that perhaps breaking a heart or two sounded good today, now all he needed was a mare to win over.

    While Geremy wasn't looking for anyone in particular, he figured some ditzy, young thing would probably work the best. Though what did it really matter? He had all day, or all week, or even months if he thought the final outcome would be worthy of his time. Besides, if he put in enough time he might get around to passing on his genetics. Yes yes, force was always an option, but he wasn't completely cold. Geremy himself was the result of what happens when force is necessary, and his entire life he had been a reminder to his mother of that day, which is probably most of the reason she had been so eager to dump him so she could never have to talk to him again. Shaking the thought from his mind (he didn't need to bother himself with that woman), the black helion trudged forward, a dainty little target picked out from the other mares scattered about.

    He approached her from the front, not wishing to scare her off right away. "Hello darling," he started, his deep voice almost sexier than his muscular frame, "You here all alone or am I welcome to come graze with you?"

    We aren't caught up in your love affair

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