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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


    [mature]  ||Hell in a Hand Basket|| {Molotov}
    #7

    The forest was eerily quiet without the sound of their voices to fill up the empty spaces. Theirs was a sparring match more than a game and as the tension grew between them his excitement mounted. It was clear that she was making a show of himself and he was enjoying every second of it. He couldn’t find it in himself to care that she could see his thoughts. Let her.
     
    He stopped in front of her, staring into her black eyes. Her complete lack of emotion was fascinating to behold, but the spark of a tease was undoubtedly there. The black and red mare was an oddity in more ways than one. His interest rose and fell like the changing of the tides. There was no doubting that this mare had every intention of leading him on only to deny his advances once she grew bored of their flirtation.
     
    Her rough inquiry brought a sly smile upon his lips. She wanted to know more than her own abilities could discern for themselves, apparently. Well, he was happy to let the mystery remain so. Ignoring her feeble insults he backed away and climbed back up the bank towards the trail once again. Pausing, he looked back over his shoulder.
     
    ”Well, love,” he spoke despite himself. ”This has been fun, but, my business won’t complete itself.”
     
    He didn’t expect her to follow him, he knew she wasn’t the type. Just as he enjoyed toying with the lesser sex she enjoyed exerting her special talents over unsuspecting ‘man whores’. She was exactly the reason why he was so drawn to Nerine.
     
    Mares who thought themselves above reproach. Who thought themselves clever enough to ensnare stallions such as himself. He had no desire to waste another second being teased by such a character.

    Arithmetic
    I Don't Make Love
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: ||Hell in a Hand Basket|| {open} - by Molotov - 02-24-2018, 09:56 PM
    RE: ||Hell in a Hand Basket|| {Molotov} - by Arithmetic - 03-05-2018, 07:09 PM



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