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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


    we are strange allies with warring hearts
    #2

    Keeper-

    Keeper should not be here;
    Has no reason to be. She belongs to herself (not true, comes the murmur in her mind that leaves a shy smile on her lips for a second) and has not found her niche in this great wide world of their doing and undoing. But here she is, a small wild looking creature that steps out of the nearby woods as if she had easily stepped out of another story - one that involved deer, moonlight and lakewater, and even cherry trees and dragon scales. The story however, is not that grand or romantic - it just is, and here she is, looking around with eyes bright and black.

    Her eyes catch on the black mare with the plum hair and the eyes that shine like pretty purple amethysts uncovered from the dirt. There seemed to be a shiver of something in the mare’s jaw then a fire that brightened the purple of her eyes, a fire of determination or something secret that only the mare herself could know. It is that that draws Keeper forth, because she understands secrets - why, she’s one herself! Or so she fancies. She is like a shadow, small and creeping and shy, and like a shadow she wants to be known - she wants to know if the black mare is like her, someone with secrets - someone who is a secret and a shadow, because secrets and shadows know and recognize their kind.

    “Sorry I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed… determined.” She hesitated for the briefest instant, uncertain of how to phrase her interruption. Keeper came closer, close enough to offer her nose for a breath of greeting then pull it back, tucking her chin almost to her breast and tucking the mare’s scent into memory. It never occurs to her that she could be wrong in her guestimation of the mare’s emotion, Keeper does not often do well with emotions - she watches, she recognizes, but fails to comprehend because none of them are like the deer (or him) but are so alike to themselves that Keeper cannot keep up with them.

    Her chin comes away from her dunskin breast and her head acquires a curious tilt to it as she never takes her blackberry eyes off the mare. “I suppose this is where I introduce myself since I interrupted your idyll…” she trails off, looking away just once before continuing, “I’m Keeper.”

    not knowing how deep the woods are and lightless

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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: we are strange allies with warring hearts - by keeper - 09-19-2017, 11:41 AM



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