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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


    burn slow, burning up the back wall; ryss.
    #1
    Volcan
    Burn slow, burning up the back wall
    Long roads, where the city meets the sky
    The wisps of the young woman’s ashen forelock clinged to the moisture around her slivered dark green eyes - eyes reminiscent of her mother’s birth-given eyes, though it was impossible for her to know this. In many ways, Volcan knew very little; for she knew only the sands, and the family they brought to her in her time of need.

    She stood on the precipice of the very same sands now, eyes scouring the outwardly land - the beyond. Her growing hooves itched to delve into the solid earth just yonder, but mentally, she struggled. It was as though her way was barred by an unearthly force, albeit one she felt almost comfortable dwelling near. Her lips pulled back in a snarl, teeth barred much as Scorch’s were all throughout her life.

    As a bead of sweat dripped down the flat of her hammer-like head, Volcan drove herself to concentrate on the magical barrier that stood before her; the telekinetic reached out with a fierce determination she was only just discovering, and with an audible growl low in her throat, she ripped apart the force field particle by particle which bound her to the Deserts. When the unnamable resistance she felt dispersed, the girl wasted no time in slipping through, and out.

    Somewhere, a magician smiled.

    Breathing wildly and persperating despite her Desert-accustomed physique, Volcan glared from one end of the horizon to another. She was free, for a day. Free to wander.

    She quickly found that she did not much like that fact. Like her mother before her, Volcan felt intimately bound to her supposed birth-place, felt as though that was home, and no other truth could possibly exist, and that if it did, searching for it would be a grand waste of time.

    Her head turned, and she gazed once more into the kingdom from which she had just managed to escape. Recalling the immense mental prowess it took to manage such a feat, Volcan straightened and began cantering mechanically into the Exterior. She had not expensed such a vast amount of energy for nothing.

    With her head tucked into her ever widening neck, the baroque filly thundered through the land, the grass left to whisper of a ghost in her wake. She grinned with each powerful stride, memorized the way her muscles rippled beneath her smokey coat. As she explored the Exterior, more and more of her mother’s characteristic awoke - but to the girl, these awakenings were only self-revelations.

    A forest blossoms into existence before the telekinetic, and she cuts into a walk, jade eyes refocusing in the newfound gloom. The heady scent of pine bombarded her nostrils, and the flapping of wings drew her ears in every direction. Her tail snapped around her haunches for her want of knowledge - never had she smelled these smells, seen these sights, or heard these sounds. Her teeth gritted within her mouth - she did not like being at a disadvantage.

    Whirling around at the inexplicably sudden scent of another equine (or was she really that distracted by her new surroundings?), Volcan stared into the abyss of shadows, ears twisting to kiss the top of her skull.

    “Show yourself, apparitionist.”
    This is not the end, this is just the world
    Such a foolish thing, such an honest girl
    lava texture © Mavrosh-Stock
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    burn slow, burning up the back wall; ryss. - by Volcan - 04-29-2016, 09:13 PM



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