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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


    as a lighthouse tamed the endless ocean war; any
    #4
    Their words, while not loud, chased away the silence of the wood. Overhead a squirrell tittered and scampered across the rough bark of the nearest tree, leaping to a branch and swishing its bushy tail. The pines shook, a handful of dried nettles drifted down and several caught themselves into the nest that was his mane. Druid lifted his head to observe, automatically drawn to the sudden movement and change in his surroundings. The cherry of his skin almost matched the small creature that fled up the tree to the safety of its sprawling branches- they spread like arms above them, almost touching the next redwood in warm embrace. When once more the creature was silent, lost somewhere high above in hasty retreat, he found her everblue face again.

    For a brief moment there were no words to leave him, a steady boggy colored stare, fixated on the curve of her jaw and the way her body language changed with each spoken word. He could drink those words, and follow her movements like a babbling brook and never grow tired of their familiar rhythm. The gentle trickle of them as they whispered to life like clear wetness that tumbled over smooth river stones.

    She was like rain, splitting the gray, overcast sky, opening up and pouring into him life, movement, and company and he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it. It had been a terrible long time since the pleasure of interaction had found him, he didn’t even know if he enjoyed it anymore, wasn’t sure if the thirst for others was the dryness he know felt in the base of his throat. Or was it the memory that found him there, burning up his windpipe as the flash of a shrinking sphere burned his eyes until he was blind from the radiance and terror of it?

    That’s okay, she offered, forgiving him with an ease as simple as breath. Ava, a whisper caught just so on the hairs of his ears and passing like a gasp for oxygen to his brain.

    “Druid,” he replied calmly. “I’m Druid. Are you new here? I’ve not seen you before,” the sentence trailed into a mumbled nothingness. While he was apologetic for startling her, he could not pretend to feel regretful for taking solace in the depths of the trees.
    druid
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    RE: as a lighthouse tamed the endless ocean war; any - by Druid - 02-13-2017, 04:18 PM



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