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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


    Blow, wind, so the fire will grow - any
    #4
    Jinn
    I had a dream that we were dead,
    and we pretended that we still lived
    He is fairly certain he would always be uncomfortable being admired. He has never considered himself beautiful, or frankly even remotely attractive in any way. Of course, until the lands had buckled and magic had been stripped from them, he hadn’t been attractive. His dark frame had been far too thin, bones pressing against skin pulled too taut, coat clumpy and dull with eyes the milky blue color of death. His skin, so thin and fragile, had a penchant for splitting, lesions forming and breaking across bone, oozing liquid no living creature should ever be able to produce. In one small way, he had been fortunate. With his ability to heal, he could close those gaping wounds, make his skin whole once more. But he never could heal the deathly rattle of his bones nor the sickly tint and gaunt stretch of his skin.

    Now he is whole and hale and plump, with a dark coat that glimmers in the sunlight and glittering golden accents that shine with health. His eyes, a pale shade of gold, are deep and intense, no longer stained by death. Even so, he cannot shake his origins as easily as Beqanna had shaken loose his defective skin. He still, even to this day, is what he had been born.

    So her complement rattles him, bringing a warmth to his skin that would have shown a telltale blush had his dark coat not hidden it so very well. Gaze ducking down, he transfers those pale gold eyes to the water’s surface, studying it in minute detail as though it had suddenly changed in the last thirty seconds. Clearing his throat, he mumbles a somewhat indistinct, “Well enough, I suppose,” before shaking away his discomfort and slowly lifting his eyes again.

    “I…” Clearing his throat once more, he continues in a firmer tone, “I’m glad I ran into you. It’s been… lonely. What have you been doing?” He pauses, a faint smile tugging at his lips as his voice takes on a slightly teasing note. “Anything fun I should know about?”
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    RE: Blow, wind, so the fire will grow - any - by Jinn - 06-05-2017, 03:48 PM



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