• Logout
  • 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


    She's turning Blue; Zephyr, Any
    #1

    LongClaw

    -I close my eyes, Ignore the smoke-

    He’d been perfectly happy with two, hadn’t needed a third, hadn’t wanted a third.

    But what we want and what we need usually never go hand-in-hand. Zephyr, the pale mare who’d washed up on shore, the one he’d found instead of his lioness - she’d gotten to him. Nicked a sliver of his skin off and slipped right underneath his blue hide, where she’d nestled firmly and awoken the fire inside. Her place in his thoughts and in his troupe comes from her unique hard-headedness; Zephyr had hunted him down and convinced him to look at her from another angle.

    The first to ever have done so.

    Today, though, the memory of their night together rolls sweetly against his subconscious like warm waves tickling a shore. The mixture of fire and ice, of virginity paired with the desire to be devious, had been good enough for them to wordlessly create a pact. There’d be no more Krigare in his Dragoness’ future - she could lay her fears on Claw’s broad shoulders, now. No more wondering if she’d spend her hours alone, no more questioning her place in this world. Like the volcano that loomed ever-present against the backdrop of Tephra, Longclaw would always be here for her to come home to.

    He’s not patient enough for that right now. Instead he switches skins (shuddering, shuddering at the feel of its wrongness on his bones) and lopes over flat grassland and through knotted woods as a silver-gray wolf, nose sweeping from side to side as he distinguishes one smell from another. His whiskers quiver in excitement when he comes across a few strands of moon-pale hairs, snagged firmly in a tangle of thorns: It’s her, his Zephyr.

    The gangly wolf picks up speed and continues, knowing soon enough he’ll come across her. The island was only so big, after all, but with surprise the trail leads him out of the brush, over the dunes, and finally down to the shore where the ocean lapped gently at his paws. Feeling his urgency rise, Longclaw shifts back to stallion (relief, sweet relief) and wades into the sea without a backwards glance. He swims until the mainland catches him, and then he’s off again - through the field and into the shadowy Forest where her old trail seems stronger.

    “Zephyr?” The warg calls, a throaty command for her to appear if she could hear him.



    @[Zephyr] I filled in a bit of blank space, timeline-wise, but if you want anything changed in here let me know!
    [Image: sScEgld.png]
    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    She's turning Blue; Zephyr, Any - by Longclaw - 01-24-2018, 03:56 PM
    RE: She's turning Blue; Zephyr, Any - by Zephyr - 02-20-2018, 07:21 PM



    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)