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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


    Deep into that darkness peering; Lunasol
    #1

    Novel



    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,


    Days and nights seem to bleed together into a whir of space and time. For the raven girl, these have so little meaning. In the sky, there is simply air and cloud, light or dark. She can lose herself in the highest reaches of the heavens. On the ground, she is just another bird, idling her days away in the branches of her favorite trees as she watches the seasons change, feels her body grow from babe to juvenile.

    She is young yet perhaps to have such an outlook on the world. But looking at the world from a bird’s eye is so much different from looking at it as an equine. She cannot seem to help it. It is as much a part of her as the glossy black feathers and the dusky blue and rusty orange of her skin.

    Indeed, she does not even realize she is different.

    Of course, she has never met anyone like her, a difference that is hard to escape. Still, there are so many odd and unique things in this world that her imagination holds no comparison to what her own two eyes can see.

    Today she finds herself in the forest, a frequent and favorite haunt of hers. Snow coats the ground below her, thick and undisturbed since the recent storm. Her sharp claws dig into the frozen branches, her passing disturbing the layer of white perching precariously on each branch. Every time she moves, more snow falls, creating shadowy divots in the once pristine blanket below. As she watches this, dark, beady eyes fixed in fascinated curiosity, she flaps her wings, cawing once before fluttering to the ground below her.

    She lands with a soft whumpf of displace snow, the top layer caving in beneath her until she falls deep enough that it covers her from beak to talon. With a distressed caw, she flaps her wings wildly for a moment, snow billowing about around her, before the transition finally takes hold. Within seconds, a yearling filly of midnight blue and burnt orange stands where the crow had been, rusty muzzle bent to inspect the offending snow beneath her feet.


    Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before.




    @[Lunasol]
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