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    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


    [open]  the body in the funhouse
    #1
    The large animal ambled fluidly through the darkness, his own dark bodice slinking amongst the shadows. Moonlight cast its ghost-like fingers over the land he was walking, paling the already white landscape. Plumes of cold breath rose from his nostrils as he calmly exhales into his surroundings - honey eyes dancing exuberantly ahead of him. He moved with confidence, though he wasn't overly expressive, and there was a certain element of curiosity that softened his facade. Black hooves clattered against frozen rock, creating echoes that he imagined could travel some distance before falling silent. The quiet that surrounded him was pregnant with possibility. Flicking his ears to and fro, the stallion listened for any signs of life around him and he couldn't deny the possibility that there were many in this land, as their scent hung thickly in the cold air. He imagined a large herd roaming this area. A healthy land, if he may assume. 

    There were questions beginning to prickle in his mind - pertaining as to where he was, and to whom he would find here. Friend? Foe? With how strongly their perfumes swirled in the air, he doubted it would take much time before he found out. 

    Approaching a shallow cleft in the ground, the footsteps of the black stag halt as he lowers his powerful skull to inspect the cracked ground with his flared nostrils. A thick curtain of black mane falls into his light brown eyes, making him appear much wilder in nature than what probably was normal for him. He remained quiet now, and still. The sounds of nighttime fill his ears - snow falling from branches landing softly in fresh powder, the odd predatory bird announcing its kill call and the echoes that come with it. The brute raises his head, dark tresses remaining on his face. The urge to call out into the night came over him swiftly, but he thwarted his own idea with a flick of his black tail. It would make him too obvious, and as confident as he was in himself, he had to accept the idea that he was vulnerable in a new terra. So, he stayed quiet, with only the pattern of his soft breath tangible in the quietness.


    Messages In This Thread
    the body in the funhouse - by Loic - 01-10-2019, 10:25 PM
    RE: the body in the funhouse - by wander - 01-19-2019, 05:12 PM
    RE: the body in the funhouse - by Loic - 01-20-2019, 02:16 PM



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