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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


    all the beautiful conditions of a man up in flame; shiya
    #5

    desire consumes me like a fire consumes me

    It’s easy to feel the tension in her, the way it knots in her muscles and catches her breath in her throat and although she is excellent at hiding it, he still feels the hints of it in their interaction. He wonders at what causes such grief, for such a vibrant mare to look so beaten, but he doesn’t ask—not yet and certainly not in front of her child. If she wanted to share such truths with him, it could be during another time.

    For now, he remains content to do his best to alleviate the shadows in her smile and bruises in her eyes.

    There’s so much unsaid between them, so many undercurrents of conversation, and he tilts his head to consider her, gold-flecked eyes warming. “Not yet,” he says simply, roguish smile curving his lip in one corner. “But it’s only a matter of time.” He wasn’t exactly hiding from it. Wasn’t exactly running in the other direction. If he kept finding his way to unsafe lands, it would catch him eventually. He shrugs a scarred shoulder, unbothered by the truth. “It’s worth the risk for conversations such as this.”

    Magnus has experienced so much in his life—so much pain and hurt—that he struggles to find fear of a disease in him. He had his immortality and his safe home. He could deal with whatever agony accompanied the sickness. He couldn’t deal with months upon months of quarantine.

    “And yourself?” he asks simply. “You don’t look sick.”

    Sad, yes. Exhausted, certainly. Sick? Not anymore, at least.

    She pivots the conversation though and his face darkens just a little. “I miss the Gates,” he confesses, even though he can recognize now that it had been a weight for him—an anchor. “But in the aftermath of the Reckoning, the faeries gifted Offspring and I with Tephra.” He glances in its direction. “That’s home now. It’s beautiful.” He looks back to her, to her child. “You should both come visit. It’s safe there.”

    And they both looked like they could use a safe place just about now.

    good shouldn’t need to tempt us above



    @[Shiya]
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    RE: all the beautiful conditions of a man up in flame; shiya - by magnus - 12-22-2018, 05:13 PM



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