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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


    I'm breathing in the smoke of my mental illness's cigarette // Wolfbane
    #7

    Trekori

    i'm freezing, it's not winter yet
    but my fingers and toes
    are shivering beneath these sheets
    and i feel so alone
    i don't want to die, i want to sleep


    Smarting in a perfectly enjoyable way from how he'd pushed me into the tree, I perk my ears to his words and snort with a pleasant derisiveness. None of my brothers are remotely close to me in age, so I've never gotten to jostle like this with them before. In the deep recesses of my admittedly boyish heart, I wish that Wolfbane could come home with me and be a real Brother of mine - but I don't bring it up just yet, figuring I'll just get some snark in return or something.

    That is, until Wolfbane literally requests a new home.

    "Well, Ischia is always looking for men to fill the ranks." I offer with somewhat more involvement that my last few sentences. "And I mean, everyone there is way cooler than I am, so you'd be pretty set." Although I am hopeful that he will respond in some kind of positive way, we've just come to an opening, and before I can get a word in edgewise, the youthful fool is springing into the sky, hollering some jargon at me.

    Whinnying after the blue-striped colt, I leap forward and unfurl my wings in a practiced motion. As the thermals catch on my feathers, I am carried higher and higher, laughing although I exert myself to the max trying to catch up to the fellow. In truth, I'm not concerned about winning or losing - to be racing next to another free spirit on this winter day is too lovely.

    Before long, we're settling on to the ground of the meadow, breathless and grinning and gangly and boyish. My wings flutter to my sides, a quirk I've always had, but I'm not thinking about what he'll think about that. Inhaling as if to speak, a grin replaces the words, and a mischievousness overwhelms my common sense. Half-rearing, I shunt my bottom legs forward and angle my head to the side and down, towards his neck. He should be able to dodge the skewering motion - but I mean, stupider things have happened.

    "Long live the Forest Guard!"



    @[Wolfbane] I forgot to move this to the meadow but. I don't.... Care :|
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: I'm breathing in the smoke of my mental illness's cigarette // Wolfbane - by Trekori - 05-10-2018, 02:59 PM



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