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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


    Here Lies Me [OPEN]
    #1
    The black filly shivered. The mist was wet, and her coat was wet from falling into the stream. She hated how clumsy she is; it slows her down and gets her bullied. I give up. The decision rings through her head as she hangs her head low, not bothering to see whether anybody wants her. They wouldn't; not with the trait she currently didn't present that makes her appear on the brink of death. She figured it's why she ended up so clumsy - that it weakened the muscles in her legs somehow.

      "I should just go lay down and die, shouldn't I?!" She shouts into the darkened skies, throwing her head up and snarling in frustration, creating a rasping noise instead. Her ears were back, and she pawed the ground weakly before collapsing to the ground, sighing as she muffles a painful sob.
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    #2

    "I should just go lay down and die, shouldn't I?!" a little voice trumpeted loudly. Wallace couldn't help but chuckle, shaking her head. She'd heard it from a ways back as she leisurely made her way toward the den.

    This place held special meaning for her. Sort of. It's where she found a new mother after she lost her own and was displaced from her twin. She still felt the sorrow from losing Dharwyn, more so than her own mother. They'd been inseparable (well, apparently not), and were an intelligent duo of little tricksters. One day she'd find her again but for now she would focus on setting down roots and securing herself as an independent woman despite being so young still.

    Wallace halted quietly, noting the little black filly but letting her gaze wander. She'd never admit the small part of her that hoped to see her adoptive mother, Zara, even though seeing her here would mean Wallace was being replaced. She missed the kind and gentle mare terribly, more than she thought she would. The thought that she was replaceable to the mare hurt her deeply, so a larger part of her hoped she would not see Zara here after all.

    Her plain brown eyes came back around to the girl as she threw herself to the ground in a heap of dismay. Wallace smirked. It took so much to be so strong, didn't it? She remembered lying in much the same way when she was here, miserable and bitter.

    "How long will you lie there that way?" she asked blandly, her eyes once again taking in their surroundings briefly.

    The elder filly was just over a year old, still too young in the eyes of the world to bear children but strong and bold enough to do as she very well pleased, thank you. And she didn't much like it here, it was uncomfortable. Last time, she felt more as a prisoner held against her will by those blasted little witches they called fairies. How many times had she tried to escape before someone finally came to take her away?

    "I don't much like it here," she repeated her thoughts, glaring with suspicion at a nearby fairy. They were probably already thinking up devious little plots to keep her again. "I live on an island called Ischia." And its terribly lonely, she didn't add.
    "Come along then if you wish. I'll not stay in this wretched place." And with that, she turned to leave.


    Wallace
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    #3
    The black filly snorted when the mare first spoke, and didn't verbally respond. She stood up, though, her ears loosely back, but not pinned - yet anyways - as she looks at the new equine with anger. Her black coat did not draw any heat from the air, as the sky was clouded here; she didn't mind the gloomy clouds, but hated the chill it gave her when the sun lacked it's heated glow.

    Come along if you wish.. Meets her ears, and she starts to shuffle forward behind the odd grullo filly. She seemed near mare-age but still filly-formed; Mentalio wondered absently what this mare's name and age is. She silently agreed with the filly-mare that the place is, indeed, wretched. "What's your name?" Mentalio asks tonelessly, her voice empty. The conversation was forced manners, not an act of kindness - the message was clear - she doesn't really care who you are, just whether you'll keep her out of that place.
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