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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


    I have loved you for a thousand years (barret)
    #1
    I have died every day waiting for you.
    Darling, don't be afraid. I have loved you for a thousand years.

    Part of him wants to never see her again.

    She is everything to him - his glorious, dazzling sun.  She is the only thing he wants in the world.  And she will never be his.  

    She’s Gendry’s, his best friend’s.  And together they will build a life he can only dream of.  A happy life in the Jungle, with friends … maybe even children …

    He cringes, and moves away from his hiding place on the outskirts of the meadow.  He doesn’t know what to do with himself any more.  He’s nothing.  Pathetic.  

    He drags his feet across the meadow, head hanging low.  What can he even do now?  He’s useless to the Tundra - he’s proven that time and time again.  He’s useless to Gendry, he’s always been.  And, worst of all … he’s useless to Arrya.  And he’s broken his promise to her multiple times over.  Is there even any point in living any more?

    Sighing sadly to himself, he stops at the side of a little pond on the edge of the meadow.  He peers downward, staring at the scarred brown and white face looking back at him.  He looks … awful.  He bends down further to break the surface to take a drink, so that he doesn’t have to look at his reflection any more.  What the hell is he doing?


    Rhory
    I'll love you for a thousand more.


    @[Barret]


    Ew this post Sad
    Reply
    #2
    I love you. Don't you mind, don't you mind?

    It would be a lie to say that he had never thought it.

    He thought it. He thinks it. He hopes, and he prays, and he lives, and he dreams for it. So many parts of him never want to see her again. So many parts of him scream out her name in agony; he once thought that they were magnets, and maybe they are, but with polarities reversed, with polarities that expel – the kind of magnets you can push, and push, and push, but never move together.

    He has thought it, too.

    He has thought it while he’s looked into her eyes with a stupid, flinching smile on his lips and hated everything he found inside of them, even as he had willed his slamming heart to leave his ribs intact. He has wanted her dead, and thought it then. He has thought it while he’s looked inside of her, through her glass flesh and past her veins, when he saw that there, written in her bones was all of the misery that loving her could pave for him.

    It didn’t change a thing, though.

    He still needs her more than he needs air. He still thinks about her hard, dark eyes, and loves them more than he loves anything. There are parts of him that never want to see her again, but the parts that love her still are louder.

    The parts that love her bring him here. They coax him to the pond to watch a stranger who looks like there are things he’d like to un-see, too.

    “I don’t recommend that,” he says, stopping to lean his weight against the withered bark of an old tree.


    barret ---
    Reply
    #3
    He's at least never wished for her death.

    In fact, he wouldn't be able to bear it if she died. She is a dazzling ray of light that brings warmth and life into the world. And as much as it pains him to be without her, it would be even worse living in a world in which she no longer exists.

    As much as it kills him, he wants her to be happy. Even if it can't be with him.

    His image in the water brings back memories of the days when the three of them had been young - still innocent and carefree. Well, more carefree. They had certainly had more troubles than most children their age. They'd had the Valley war, Carnage, and Syntyche to contend with, but they'd at least had each other. And through all the misery they'd had to endure, they'd still managed to eke out some small amount of happiness. He wishes they could go back.

    But they can never go back.

    A voice startles him out of his ever darkening train of thought and he looks up, bleary eyed, to see an old bay stallion watching him from under the shadow of an ancient tree. "What do you mean?" If he'd been more present, he'd have noticed brokenness and misery on the stranger's face that so mirrors his own. But he's been isolated too long to pick up on such things.







    ((Ooc: I am so sorry for the horrendous wait. D: ))
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