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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


    somewhere between the sand and the stardust; any
    #1

    Rapture


    somewhere between the sand and the stardust

    There are memories nestled here, deep within the cool, swirling depths of this simple river. Memories that draw her over and over again, a butterfly to the vibrant petals of a flower. The soft blue of her coat, dappled by white and sunshine, soaks in the cool refreshment of the eddying waters, the gentle current caressing her skin as she closes crystalline eyes. She inches deeper into the river as the gentle hum of insects and rustling of leaves in a steady summer breeze washes over her.

    She loses herself in the perfection of the moment, allowing memory and pain and heartache to fade. For that one perfect moment in time, she is a part of the waters surrounding her, more at peace with the world than she had been since she was the smallest of children.

    She had not been made for the harshness of this world. Her soul is too soft, her heart too kind. It bruises so easily. A creature like she is destined only for a lifetime of pain and heartache. Her mother had tried to teach her (to warn her), when she had been young. Had attempted to show the cruelties of the world, to prepare her for savagery she would face. But rather than harden her heart as it should, it had only made her bleed. Had stirred a desire within her to right all the wrongs of the world, to give kindness where she could.

    It hadn’t occurred to her that she would be the one to hurt and suffer. Love should only ever beget love, but she has since learned that is far too often not the case.

    And so she had retreated, carrying her aching soul with her to mend and repair. For so long now she has lived quietly, refusing to revisit the harsh reality she knows awaits her outside this bubble she had crafted for herself. Instead she slips deeper into the water, remembering. Remembering him, and the suffering he had carried deep within him. She had tried to heal him, but she had been too young, too inexperienced.

    That is the day she had learned she is not enough. Perhaps she never would be enough.

    there is a pulse that echoes of you and I

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    somewhere between the sand and the stardust; any - by Rapture - 02-09-2018, 05:12 PM



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