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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


    hold fast to the break of day || any
    #12


    She knows what it is to yearn. The ocean; its faces and its storm-dark songs have haunted her ever since she abandoned her first home. Depression was a thing that did not settle well on Saedís child-soft face, and she had done her best to shoulder the weight of her past without succumbing to its bladed memories. But they followed her, in the familiarity of Beqannas residents, and of those she felt she had known much longer, in the forbidden touches she had shared with Garbage in the forest. The ocean did, too, and she had spent many stolen nights on the starlit beaches of Tephra. At times she felt that these things brought her the greatest joy; at other times they strew her across rocks she could not see and buried her beneath a glass she was just inches from surfacing.

    How easy it is to lose herself in memories. Underneath the star-spray of galaxies that swirl around them – how tender the touch of stardust upon her brow. She is a moonbeam; a beacon of starshine and ethereal hope and she smiles as she draws her head away from Warrick and lifts her muzzle to taste the sky.

    Warrick has grown dear to Saedís; she finds solace in his sad eyes and osprey´s words, and when she raises her dreamer´s gaze to the stallion, they are relit with fondness. Here was one who had seen and lost so much, one Saedís would ever strive to comfort and to nourish in friendship. Her lighthearted whistle cannot be stifled by the look that holds so much pain in Warricks eye, and Saedís (starlit and evening tide) turns once more to embrace him in the soft-smooth arch of his throat. There is trust there and affection that dances in the delicacy of her grooming touch at the base of the other´s neck; there is gratitude, and hope, and overwhelmed friendship that has drawn her moth-like to his shadow.

    ”It´s what friends do” She whispers, and for a moment her stars is a scar that blinds her, but it too has been a defeated dream. She calls him friend – and standing there, surrounded by stars and feeling the coldness of her own bones rejoice in her friend´s warmth, she believes it is right.


    Messages In This Thread
    hold fast to the break of day || any - by Warrick - 02-19-2018, 02:23 PM
    RE: hold fast to the break of day || any - by Saedìs - 03-07-2018, 11:26 AM



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