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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


    kylin, any;
    #1

    Lacey

    Okay. It was fine. All good. She hadn't been off the island since the invasion, so what? She could do this. But then, that wasn't really the problem, was it? Because, before that, she hadn't been off the island since the assault. Since she'd been found in a bloody mess in the forest and taken home.

    Lacey, he'd named her.
    And lacey she was.

    The intricate pattern marked each of her hips, flawless and detailed and beautiful. He was an artist, and she his masterpiece. The lights and shadows slipped across those beautiful scars, determined sunlight caressing her through the breaks in the trees. And yet, beneath the fine lace, she was just plain. A brownish sort of grullo, with brown hair, brown eyes. Dull. He'd made her beautiful, in his way. But it didn't change that she was undesirable. Unwanted.

    The trees reminded her of that day. She'd almost led them to the meadow instead, to the wide open and sunlight. She didn't really care to be seen by so many though. Didn't want to see the judgement in their eyes. But most importantly, her daughter loved the water. And the river was the closest to home.

    Baby steps.

    She walked quietly with Kylin at her side. So quietly. Was there anyone that remembered her before that day? The fire in her eyes and the blades of her sharp tongue. The snappy wit with clever comebacks at the ready, rapid-fire in execution. But quiet now.

    How do you like it, baby? she murmured dimly into the impossibly soft lavender hair of her daughter. Lacey was so young, herself. Practically more like an older sister, she felt like. She nudged Kylin's neck, gesturing to the water. Kylin's favorite. See anyone you might want to talk to?

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    #2
    kylin
    html code by Toli, design idea based on "Dovev" by Laura

    He tells her "ooh love".
    No, not Lacey. Neither Wallace, but Mother. Or mom for that matter. Kharon’s first word had been the name Father had given mother, without knowing what it was or meant. Having seen the pained look upon her mother’s face, Kylin had never called her that. And she wouldn’t. But neither did she like it when Father called mother Lacey. She wasn’t Lacey, she was Mother.

    But none of those things were on Kylin’s mind right now. It was only the second time she left the island since her birth and she couldn’t be more excited. Their trip to the lake had been fun, and she had even made a friend there. Maybe she would gain another friend on this trip. Or maybe it was Mother which who she would bond. Glancing to the side she presses her nose up against Wallace’s side, nuzzling her before prancing a few steps forwards so she walks ahead of her mother.

    Ooh’s en aah’s spill from her lips, curious to discover everything this new world has to show her. So little she had seen, so little she knew. And everything simply looked amazing. Sometimes she’d say: ”Oh mom, look at that! We don’t have that at home.” Kylin pointed out all new amazing things to her, trying to get her mother excited too.

    But no, mom stayed quiet, and Kylin falls back to her side quiet too. But the twinkle in her eyes shows her amazement, ears twisting around and breath sometimes stocking. ”It’s amazing mommy, thank you!” she answers sweetly, almost breathless as she glances around. The river is so different from the little spring she knows, and it doesn’t even look like the sea too. Her eyes are glued to it, natural instinct for that matter. Kylin presses closer against her mother’s side, not raelly much like the yearling she was, but still very nice.

    ”Talk to who?” she asks, almost confused as she looks up, blinking her eyes she shakes her head, then looking back from Mother to the water. She didn’t want to talk, she wanted to play with the water, see if it felt just as the sea. Maybe she could practice swimming here too. ”Can’t we just play at the riverbank?” she then asks, her head tilting as she looks up to her Mother almost pleading.

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