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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


    give my all just to watch you fall; any
    #8
    rapt
    rapt.

    there is a dream in the space between the hammer and the nail
    the dream of about-to-be-hit, which is a bad dream


    “Can it?” he asks. He assumes he is stagnant, in this way – that there is no path for him other than the one he is one. His nature, after all, is to serve, to lay prostrate before monsters, to be hurt. And he doesn’t mind this.
    (He likes it, really – a fact he does not often admit aloud, because who admits to such base, ugly desires? He hurt me, and I liked it. He hurt me, and I asked for more.)
    He feels it, then, something pressing at his chest. He doesn’t know what, only that it feels like a weight, feels strange, but he opens to it, the same he way he opens to so many strange things, and then he is the weight, a strange thing, a shift in the body.

    He listens to her, shifting in his changing form. Has he every wanted to destroy? It is not his nature – truth is, he prefers to be destroyed, but this seems too brazen to admit to her.
    “Once or twice,” he says, and this is not quite a lie, for the thought has passed his mind, though never much backed by desire. Still, he finds himself wanting to obey, wanting to please her, so he follows her gaze and sees the tree, goes to it.
    It takes several tries – despite his density, he puts so little force behind it, at first – but when he tries, actually tries, his hoof splinters against the wood and there is a crack as the tree falls victim to his impossibly heavy hooves.
    He collects himself, breathing heavier than the exertion should have called for, heart pounding. It’s a different kind of power, this.
    “Wow,” is all he says at first, “it’s a different feeling.”
    The confession, then, albeit a sideways one.
    “Usually I’m the thing that’s being destroyed,” he says, and there is no sadness behind the words, for that is his power – to rebuild himself, to mend the wounds, to make himself whole so he can be taken apart again.

    but the nail will take the hit if it gets to sleep inside the wood forever



    @[Titanya]
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: give my all just to watch you fall; any - by rapt - 01-30-2021, 07:37 PM



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