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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


    like the tide follows the moon; any
    #3
    She had been so prepared. She had forged their names in blood and brass to adorn her heart in armor. Their feverish whispers and promises were the shaft and sword of her weapon, armed against the creatures who sought to steal away her last bit of worth and hope that had managed to survive.

    Epithet had come guarded and so sure it would all be the same except when the meek- "I must admit, I am rather envious of your color." -collapses her heart and the steely cage of her aura. Lavender eyes slide to see a small mare with bright eyes and a crooked smile. Epithet had been so damn certain it would be a biting stallion with crooked teeth and groping mouth...but it wasn't. It was a small, velvet chocolate stem of a mare with large eyes and a pretty smile.

    Epithet, draped in her dripping indigo, smiles back as she shatters the stern porcelain mask that she had adorned. "You're silver hair is something of a greater beauty." Epithet closes her lips to a reflecting smile as she extends her nose to the other. "Looking for a home as well?" The blue mare asks with forward ears and trained focus. The dark cobalt of her long tail lifts across her hind end to drive away the flies that attempted to settle on one of her round hips.

    Epithet is silently grateful for the mare's approach. Other males seemed to hover and Epithet takes a step closer to the slanted mare. There was a need to protect the weak and maimed and Epi would not hide that attribute. Pale purple eyes watch as the men make their way passed the pair of women and do not return to the other female till they are out of sight. "I'm Epithet." Her voice is cool and even as she returns to their conversation as if nothing had happened despite her urge to run those unwelcome bastards off with more than a sideways glance but for now, Epithet would remain as though a simple blue horse in the field, having a most intriguing conversation with her lovely company.


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    Messages In This Thread
    like the tide follows the moon; any - by Epithet - 12-24-2017, 02:04 PM
    RE: like the tide follows the moon; any - by Epithet - 12-28-2017, 02:42 PM



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