• 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


    You put your cigarette out on my face; any
    #2

    His woman had left Nerine. His woman had been the queen to fill the iron throne from the pied daughter of Nayl.

    There was a sickening ache in his dark heart for Hestia.

    He never allowed their child, Crucified, to witness the harness that filled the thudding vessels that moved his blood though his great form and he foolishly thought he would find the answer to why in the vastness of the misted forest. Birds call overhead with a shrill rapture to pierce the sky and shatter the solitude. A lavender grey eye slides upward as his lips press together in a slight grown upon his great, dark face.

    One heavy, feathered limbs draws after the other as he moves slowly. He had walked this path before when the dark mare had caught his eyes. She had been a radiant thing in this lackluster world and he had been foolish but he had loved the moody mare...but now she is gone, no scent, no sign. A low sigh slips from between the scarred lips as she knows Cru is off playing with the other children and it gave the man time to think. Nerine was no longer is his him (or so he thinks). There had been a change of hands too frequently in the last 2 years. He was nothing more than a scent amongst others that moved through the once great land like a revolving door.

    A champagne mare stands not far off, she is pricked by speared edges, armored against the world or even perhaps herself. Murc does not stop his slow procession towards her. A pale lilac eye slides towards her beneath the tangle of his dark brow as he grunts softly and dipping his head.  She is a pretty thing, young and filled with spite. Murc suddenly feels old near her vibrancy (though he is perhaps only 9 these days) but her lovely form surely drew the eye of plenty of suitors.

    "Be careful out here, mare." The words roll like thunder in the distance, low and offering the promise of something stronger than what meets the eye. He makes sure to side step her barbs, careful to not add to the scars upon his body, as he speaks to her with a steady gaze of his lavender grey eyes.

    MURC

    just as i can be so cruel



    @[Jassal]
    Reply


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: You put your cigarette out on my face; any - by Murc - 08-25-2018, 08:53 PM



    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)