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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


    its time to begin, it's the end... [berber pony; any]
    #1


    now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?
    Father forgive me, for I have sinned…
     
    This is what she has been saying over and over again ever since her magic had shorted itself out. The fact that she was no longer able to experience the magic in her blood was frightening, but she had not yet come to realize that she was not alone in this endeavor. The land had taken on a grey tone—almost colorless with the way it presented itself, and as she stumbled about, unaware of what was going to happen to her, or how it would happen.
     
    But she knew that the potatoes had something to do with it. She sneered, remembering the potato she had thrown away from her as if it had been from Hell itself. Was there a chance that that odious root vegetable was at the center of all this heartache? That perhaps the land was dead because the potatoes had come to attack? She remembered the famine… constantly having to consume the spuds, having nothing else for nutrition. The Salty way they slid down her throat… how they’d all gotten fat and unhappy. And how they’d been poisoned to kill off those of her kind.
     
    She grimaced and visibly shuddered, and then one again prayed to Mary for peace, and for forgiveness.
     
    Should she forgive the potato?
     
    Hail Mary.
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