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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 roots are not reached by the frost ~ any
    #8

    forget all the names we used to know

    Pack or no, we all need someone in this world. Though her shape is smaller, and her tongue much sharper, Crevan decides (quite firmly, for he’s a creature that tries not to revisit past decisions) that Merida should know the feeling of at least having a kindred spirit out in this big, strange country of theirs. He at least has his twin, his mother, and with creeping suspicion of her motives; Jah-Lilah. Merida, it seems, has no one. “Not if I can help it.” The shaggy wolf thinks as her jaw slacks in surprise. She’s entranced with Crevan’s ability and it almost makes him sad he doesn’t have anything else to show her (oh, he does, but that ability is still unknown to him - as it will be for many more years to come.)

    So when she plops starry-eyed before him, a bit closer than she’d previously positioned herself, his wolfish grin and eager questions grow significantly longer. “Loess …” He ponders aloud, the tone taking a dreamy turn as his dark eyes slide unwittingly to the shadows of the wood around them. “I’ve been there before,” He remembers softly, or tries to at least, “so many hills, and jutting spires of sandstone that glimmer with eyes … hundreds of red eyes.” The boy murmurs, completely lost in himself and the nightmares of yesterday.

    “That was the Underneath.” His conscious supplies readily, snapping him suddenly back into the present with the flush of embarrassment. His head turns once more to Merida, a sheepish grin exposing bright fangs for the moment. “Sorry, got carried away there.” Given as the only response to his strange actions. No need to worry her with scary stories and talk of dark magic. No need at all. The snippy fox is stretched thin like a prayer rug on the littered forest floor and Crevan pounces on the opportunity to talk about anything else, so he jumps eagerly into the topic which he is most familiar with: himself.

    “The sights and smells are amazing, no doubt - but have you hunted yet? Killed prey and eaten?” He pressures her curiously. His first hunt had been a big day, something he’d worked up to from the moment he was a pup. “Now those tastes are out of this world.” He sighs, rolling onto his back as if the very mention of fresh blood was all he lived for. In short reply his stomach rumbles, and the chipper youth laughs. “Don’t let the shape fool you though - being Wolf is probably equally as pleasing as Fox. Besides, I’m too big to go most places quietly or without someone noticing.”

    “You on the other hand-” He says, flipping topside once more to pin her with a pleasing look. “-I bet you go just about anywhere you please, hmm?”

    revan



    @[Merida]
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: deep roots are not reached by the frost ~ any - by Crevan - 08-31-2017, 01:50 PM



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