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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


    my words like silent raindrops fell [eight]
    #4
    It is a difficut thing knowing that you could once do something and no longer can. Once, not long ago - Eight could read your mind. He could filter through your thoughts like an author rifling through rough drafts. He did not need to concentrate on the way you knit your brow, or the flick of your ears, or the tensing of your shoulders. Once, he could read your thoughts as simply as if words were flowing from your mouth. There was no question, no deciphering, no interpreting - it was simply your mind and he , two souls intertwined.
    Now, well now it was different. It was drinking in the way your muscles rippled when you were tense, the way your ear half cocked in question, the sinew of your neck as you moved in inflection. No, it was not easy - but there was an easiness to it. There was a familiarity between you and the dark stallion, a rippling feeling that flung your thoughts out to him.
    There is a simplicity now that a home as been found, Yes, you are almost like explorers in a strange land - but isn’t all of Beqanna? Every step taken in Tephra is one that is undiscovered, around each corner there is something that could be laying in wait. Somehow, you trust him - although his power is drained. Should Beqanna wish ill upon you, there would be nothing Eight could do. The water could cast a fire upon your throat, you silent screams rippling throughout the land, and the magician would no longer be able to coat your pain with ease Such a fickle, fickle thing.
    He waited stoically, eyes casting over the new land, as you quenched your thirst after the journey. He still was not used to the familiarities of life - the need to eat, the parched feeling of a desert throat - magic had quenched it all before. You respond with a shake of your head, and he awaits more - a twinge of an ear, a step forwards or back - anything to tell him something more.
    And then, it comes - perhaps you had recanted your original thought, the no, no, no that riddled the simplicity of your silence. Perhaps you had more to say than body movements could convey. Eight could not say - without the veil of magic, he was as powerless as any.
    “ His name is Sahm.” he speaks quietly - unsure of your feelings of breaking free of your chain of silence. “Let’s go. I’m sure he’ll know we’re looking for him.” He jerks his head deeper towards the heart of Tephra, knowing that the magician lies in wait somewhere.

    @[Sahm] - wanna jump in on this? Big Grin


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: my words like silent raindrops fell [eight] - by Eight - 09-09-2016, 08:45 PM



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