• 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


    there's no remedy for memory; hephaestus
    #4
    Hephaestus
    At the edge of forest his onyx eyes refused to peel themselves away from her abnormally shaped figure. Though her deformities weren’t as obvious as his own, he felt a kinship with her in a way that he’d never experienced before. Surprisingly, he harbored no desire to slip back into the shadows. There was no explanation for his desire to know the black mare, but he held fast as her pace quickened to meet him.
     
    Shafts of sunlight broke through thinly veiled clouds and he flinched against the exposure of her rays. Too long he’d lingered within the fold of the trees that sat comfortingly behind him. It would have been too easy for him to have lost himself within the never-ending expanse of trees. He believed that he would have been content there, even if he never did again find his way out. When he’d emerged from hiding, he could never have anticipated finding himself in the moment in which he now stood.
     
    Even from afar he could feel her eyes upon him, studying him. Though, her intensity felt different to him than most he’d come to meet. Pooled within the deep amber of her stare, he felt a familiarity. A kinship. Nearly face to face she halts and considers him and, rather than hide the truth of his grotesque features, he meets her gaze. He couldn’t remember the last time that he hadn’t flinched when he’d been caught unawares by a stranger in his midst. He’d always been quick to use his blessedly full forelock to mask the bulging, fleshy deformity that had taken hold of the left side of his face. This time, he allowed the mass of hair to flow naturally down the center of his face.
     
    He waited for the fear and disgust to plant themselves upon her dark face, but, instead, he was met with a voice barely above the whisper of wind between them. She had not expected to meet him on her travels, a sentiment he shared. He held himself taller and allowed the wind to carry wisps of his hair to cover his face, as he’d done so many times before.
     
    ”And what did you expect?”
    Break My Shackles To Set Me Free


    @[Erinys]
    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: there's no remedy for memory; hephaestus - by Hephaestus - 04-04-2018, 07:51 PM



    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)