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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


    turn from the light that made them all go blind; stoney
    #11

    violence


    Yes, says the girl, and Violence smiles, pleased at the servitude, the way she pledges herself.
    However, Violence has no need for her when she has the bones, when she has the open and wiling mind of her alien sister. What can this girl offer? Amusement, certainly, but Violence has never wanted for amusement. Perhaps something else, for her mind is still open and her eyes gleaming, her willingness writ large in her, the way she stands before the bones like an altar.

    Well, perhaps there is one more thing to do with her.

    Violence sinks into her mind, this time not toeing the shallows but diving into the deep end, entrenching herself in the folds and curves of her mind. There is a clattering sound as the bones fall to the earth, no longer held aloft by her necromancy, for all her concentration is honed on taking the girl’s mind as her own.

    She begins to run. She makes her run. She tests the body, pushes it to its limits, until –
    Well, until a precipice comes into view. It’s not a long drop, but long enough. The lips curl in a grin, and her course changes, still running, then, flying.
    For a moment, anyway.
    And then the body crashes to earth, a sickening crack echoing as her neck breaks, and Violence’s mind leaves her, rockets back into her own body. She takes a breath, and the bones reassemble.
    She reaches out to what she expects is the girl’s corpse, and for a moment there is something, and then radio silence. She hadn’t died. Violence had been sure she had – still recalls the crack of her bones – but she can’t feel the death.

    She sighs, and turns to leave, the bones clattering after her.

    I’d stay the hand of god, but war is on your lips



    OBVIOUSLY lmk if I should change anything <33 I was thinking break her neck, her immortality eventually causes it to heal, maybe it's always a little janky? whatever you want.
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    #12
    All she has left to offer is her life.
    Violence takes it, takes her.

    One moment, she hears the bones fall.
    The next, she hears how her hooves strike thunder from the earth.
    Then a whistle that builds to a wail as her body sails through the air. She is flying and it is beautiful! Weightless, free, there is no thought in her - just a grin, just flying until her trajectory changes to a hurtling drop as gravity sucks her back down. The earth smacks her hard, hard enough to snap her neck and Stoney doesn’t fly any more, she dies.

    What makes Stoney, that essence of life, starts to seep out of her and gather itself into a mist above her body. It starts to rise towards light and something else, then it is sucked back into her lungs with a breath of strained life. Her eyes fly open and she sucks in great gulps of air that threaten to burst her lungs, panic seizes her limbs and she shakes, immobilized by the sad truth that she cannot die. In fact, she is as immortal as her mother and her half-sister, and here she had thought herself entirely ordinary! Pulled back from the precipice of death, she lies there, like a fish out of water until the panic subsides, and Stoney felts life flood her limbs, ugly and thick with responsibility.

    Possession. Death. Immortality.
    Stoney is forever changed by them all.
    She lays there; Violence and the bones are long gone before she climbs shakily to her feet.
    There is a stiffness to her gait, a permanent paralyzation that has set itself in her bones - her neck though healed, now has a bulge from the break that her mane can hide, but it is there and reminds her of the moment she died. Stoney holds back the tears that threaten to break out of her eyes, wild and rampant. It seems silly to cry now, she barely lived and then she died and now she lives again - there is more than enough cause for celebratory tears, but those are not the kind of tears that prick the corners of her eyes. She will not cry now, certain that her tears are meant for later as the dark creeps around her. Now is for life and the bitter taste it leaves in her mouth.

    ooc: that my love, was perfect! you delivered death and immortality in a nice neat package, and I cannot thank you enough! and obviously no need to reply, just wanted to close this up. <333
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