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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


    we are strange allies with warring hearts
    #5
    Magnificent
    Neither can take much heed of the flowers, not even as their pristine petals prickle with untold stories, and promise secrets buried in their centers. The gnats will have them, the butterflies will whisk them away and spread them against the clusters of primrose and none shall be the wiser. Such a trivial thing, to gain knowledge from the earth and yet it was there, it was for the taking but instead the two remained transfixed, locked in some unspoken curiosity. Unspoken, but understood nonetheless because it was etched in their features, even nestled against the pitch black of Magnificent’s jawline.

    Fragile, she chose because when comparing to herself, the girl was soft lines, she was delicate. The dun mare was smooth and silken, the sunlight illuminating her coat and making it a spun gold spectre. Keeper was a river flowing because when Magnificent looked at her own reflection she saw jagged edges and harsh angles. Scales and sinew.

    She was lovely in her own sense, like a rosebush, thorns included. Soft hands would find them easily, may even unknowingly seek them out, too eager to reach for vibrant blooms and failing to consider the consequences. Eyes were always hungry things, clouding judgement, misleading the body and admittedly Magnificent was not an exception to that fact. Beautiful she was and maybe majestic, a craggy cave that held hidden wonders few might take a moment to explore. Magnificent was quick to analyze their differences, it’s not something she could help. A character trait that was ingrained when she was quite small, even in the short time she had spent in the Cove, it’s effects, its lessons learned, were lasting.

    Kirin would have be pleased to know this, to watch it fester and grow in her as it did. The lavender leviathan would smile his crooked, charming smile and relish in the glory of these tangled roots.

    “No,” she said with a solid certainty as she continued to take in the gilded girl “I don’t laugh often.” The thought has never occurred to her before, this truth was not something she took time to consider and now that it was presented to her she wondered if she had always been so sullen. She imagined Keeper laughed often, a tinkling noise that would instill a giddy wash of light on one’s soul just to hear it. Magnificent’s first impression was growing into a fantasy of a fairy tale and she spun the image in her mind because it felt like power. It felt like control to wish and will this assumption into truth, if only for her own amusement.

    “Really?” the question left her as quickly as it had formed itself in her mind, the dun admittedly surprising her. “No one at all?” No one had told the fairy girl that she came off as meek, that she appeared as gentle as a lamb and equally as soft? Perhaps the onyx dragon only felt that way because when lined up side by side they were polar opposites. They were day and night, light and dark, heaven and hell and Magnificent’s opinion of herself was largely skewed. Dark, blissful perfection was she and while she could (in a sense) appreciate the doe for what she was, she was still a doe set in the reflection of two gemstone eyes.

    Eye of the beholder they say.

    Certainly that, certainly. Did Keeper mean to sweep her words like a soft brush along Magnificent’s ego? Did she intend flattery, did they mean to coax the reptile into a dancing cobra? “Come with me!” The request was abrupt and unexpected, a lasso around the neck, a sinkhole in sand. Everything in her said to struggle, to fight and break free of the braided leash and yet she remained still. Go away, said her insides but it was not often a snake was approached by a mouse so blatantly- so trusting and transfixed.

    “Lead the way,” her words returned, as if spoken by another mouth. They were statue stiff, struggling to bend concrete shaped into absolution by guided hands. 
    the space between, the wicked lies we tell
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    RE: we are strange allies with warring hearts - by Magnificent - 09-21-2017, 10:48 AM



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