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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


    Don't help them to bury the light - Tarnished/Any.
    #1
    DESPONDENCE --

    She curls around the body of a fat, knotted old beech tree.
    She dances. She is lithe and nimble. Rhythmic. 
    But she never goes far. She pirouettes away from her mother, into the green shade of the snow-white birches. And for a moment the older mare's breath catches in her throat. She squints past patches of golden sunlight, halting to wait for the younger to return to her side. 

    She curls around the body of a fat, knotted old beech tree, skipping close to brush the black shoulder of her expectant mother, allaying all of her fears once again. 

    This is an emotional dance; a new one for the black and white mare.
    She is as unaccustomed to the agonies of devotion now, as she had been to the sharp pangs of delivery. The confusing, uncharted territory of childbearing is, perhaps, nothing compared to the anxiety of rearing for an untried mother. She nips at her neck as the filly moves to sidle away again, a gentle reprimand, and shakes her head. Enough. The girl acquiesces, pressing against her ribs. She is a good girl. 

    The mare is hollow-eyed, but she has always been a worried looking sort. Not homely, but drawn thin and bedraggled. Her long mane is always rough and windblown–she is fine and lean, but always seems so weighted down, somehow. Vilhelm once said she looks forlorn at her best, and downright despondent at her worst.

    The older chews absently on the girl’s short mane as they meander through the forest. 
    She stops suddenly, glancing up at her mother, and grins. Her coat shifts and changes from her natural bright red and white, to a vibrant array of peacock greens and blues, turquoise and plum. She is so unlike her mother. She is vigorous to the core–a wild little ember, coughed loose from a blaze. She stares up with childlike eagerness, her wide blue eyes searching the hollows of that black and white face for something like pleasure or surprise. Anything. 
    Like petals yawning open for the sun.

    The mare smiles and opens her mouth, pushing out short chuffs of air from her chest–laughter–and bends down, touching her filly’s brow. A funny girl. And then she sighs, an airy exhale, and shifts her weight, squinting up through the holes in the canopy. Day is waning, growing yellowed around the edges. Despondence frowns down at the filly, just as a deep, blue darkness spreads across her prominent young bones and ungainliness, adorned with points like stars and comets, frozen on her shoulders and hips. The girl giggles and winks, then noses her groin for a teat.

    Her smile wavers as the starry girl disappears in the crook of her belly.
    The nighttime is unsafe and unkind, and unstoppable.
    She reaches back, nibbling at her babe's dark tail.

    -- & WREATH


    @[Tarnished]
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    #2
    i spend my cash on looking flash,

    He is drawn to her coat, more than anything else. It changes, catches his eye with each new colour, and Kilian - still young at heart and ever the eager-eyed magpie drawn to anything and everything - decides he must go and see who it belongs to. Maybe, if he was younger, he wouldn’t bother - as a child he was ever so shy, something he doesn’t like to admit anymore, now he is all grown up.
    Kids and responsibilities, that is his life now. Or it should be; his kids are somewhere that is not here, and he has nothing to be responsible for.
    But Kilian doesn’t mind that, it allows him to be as free as he likes. 

    He marches over to the colour-changing filly and an older mare - her mother, he presumes. He puts on his widest, least-creepy grin, and introduces himself: “Hello, I’m Kilian. You have a very interesting coat there, little one.” He speaks mostly to the older mare - he doesn’t want to come across too interested, he is just being friendly - but glances at the girl. 

    He wonders what they’re doing out here, in the Forest, all alone. He then wonders if they are homeless, and if they would like to come and live with him in the herd he is definitely going to build. He then wonders, as his mind drifts often, where he’s eventually going to live, because he hasn’t yet found anywhere, having no mares to claim a home with.
    Kids and responsibilities; maybe he’s starting this new life with those in mind.

    and grabbing your attention.
    Kilian.




    um idk. i know what i want him to be like but i haven't written like this in ages so i'm still getting to grips with it haha.
    <3
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