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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


    i've got nothing left to lose. || kilter
    #1


    look up here now; i'm in heaven. i've got scars that can't be seen.

       The frigidity of the bristling wind leaves him shivering, tucked away beneath the heavy, snow-encrusted pines, his breathing shallow and his movement lacking as he attempts to retain his warmth. He is not built for such brutality - with delicate, flaking wings (while beautiful and intricate, they were also undeniable fragile) and thin skin pulled over taut bones and sinewy muscle, he is a creature meant for warm summer evenings and bright, unabashed moonlight. Alas, he remains - swallowing his discomfort in favor of the brisk breeze and soothing shadows, knowing all too well that soon, it will pass and and the unyielding warmth of sunshine will soon push the heavy ice-laden weather beyond the snow-capped mountains where it belongs.

       His dark eyes watch the bleak shadows of morning, knowing the sun will soon break through the amass of clouds traveling overhead - their shadows would soon be brushed aside by light, and though it pained his sensitive eyes to see it, he would savor its warmth and absorb its sweet embrace. A gentle stream of light begins to crawl across the plain tucked away from the line of pines, illuminating the bright, untouched snow in its glory. At last, he is drawn forth from his place of stagnation, pulling himself from broad boulders and dried out bark and descending from the hills and out into the sunlight. 

       As the warmth envelopes his aching body, he pauses - antennae stirring on top of his skull as his dark eyes peer around, desperate to analyze the landscaping before him - before a dark, albeit slender figure pieces itself together before him. Small and youthful, the very image of his own Queen looms close by, mousy brown with deep, soulful eyes. His many limbs shift slightly as he bathes beneath the sun greedily, a smile tugging at the corner of his whiskered lips as his talons graze along the powdery snow beneath.

       He knows of the King and Queen's triple blessing and had even seen them; but he had not yet been given the opportunity to know of them personally. Possessive, his Queen was - something he could relate all too well to.

       You must be Kilter," (and he knows this, for he is much less brawny than his much stronger brother) "one of the Queen's prodigies. I am Elysium." And he waits, knowing too well how many have looked upon his hideousness with distaste - he expects no less from the Prince.



    elysium

    this way or no way, i'll be free.


    @[k i l t e r]




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