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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


    Bro and hot babes. or any;
    #1
    If I never wash the sand from my feet...
    Well, here he was. Home sweet home, right? Or he figured.

    He came to an abrupt halt, nose in the air and eyes dazzling with excitement, taking a deep breath like he could just drop some luggage and take a good look around him. His brother had to be here somewhere. Pretty sure this is where he was supposed to be.

    This place was the shit, though, seriously. Close enough to Peru to be alright, in his book. Too many dudes, but none were competition-worthy. That kinda didn't exist. Chicks, though, where were the babes!

    "Eyyy broooooo!!" he called out with a lopsided grin, eager gaze spying around for the handsome bloke. Because obviously he would be. He'd seen Mom. Just saying. And there wasn't a damn doubt that he was drop-dead-gorgeous. So it made sense. Well, he could always look around for the best-looking guy here, right?

    So he started walking. Was quickly distracted by the shore again. It happens. You know, normally that was where the babes were. But damned if he could find any. What the hell?

    "BRO!" he barked, still grinning. Surely there would be an explanation as to where the chicks were. They got like, a special place they like to chill or somethin, right? That wasn't the beach around here, fine, but he'd need to know where, then, huh?

    You know what, though? This sun flashing his skin that dazzly red would catch their eye, for sure. Everyone loves a good tan. Didn't quite have the same body, but he could roll with it. He still looked damn good.

    Lochwood


    @[Ivar]
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    #2
    The last time his western isle had gotten an unexpected visitor was, well, never. Sabra's arrival had been sudden but not unanticipated; her sons were here after all. Three years of solitude save those Ivar brought over have given the kelpie a seemingly false sense of security. The loud call of a stranger carries down Ivar's tiny kingdom with astonishing clarity, and the tri-colored kelpie is grateful that he was near enough to intervene before he disturbed the trio of lavender residents that Ivar so zealously guards.

    "Do you need something?" He asks, slipping out of the shadows of the jungle without any introduction. The shouting stallion is a stranger, Ivar is fairly certain, but he does not make a habit of memorizing the faces of men he meets. He has other - better - things to devote his attention to.

    Still, there is something almost familiar about the other man. Without context, it doesn't occur to Ivar to compare Lochwood to their parents. Instead he wonders if perhaps this is a child he hadn't known about, one sired on a mare that he should have kept better track of. But no, they are not so far apart in age; the dun is surely older than Ivar's eldest children.

    "Do I know you?" He asks, stepping causally - purposefully - between the tobiano and the rest of the long beach. The kelpie is more than the pretty face that his jewel-toned hue would suggest, and the plates of fine scales shift over obvious muscle. While this afternoon was an exception, Ivar is most often found in the water, where swimming against the tide is all but second nature.
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    #3
    If I never wash the sand from my feet...
    Well, what do you know! A handsome guy! Ish.
    Sort of.. a bit sober. But still.

    "Do you need something?"

    Lochwood's bright gaze held steady on him, thrilled to have found a local. Or having caught a local's attention, at least. Now he'd surely find his brother and find wherever he's supposed to bunker down. Hah. Not bunker down.

    "Do I know you?"

    "Nahh. But we're cool though," he replied with a casual shrug. He had no idea how so unlike his parents he'd turned out, growing up so far away from the family in a different world. Mom had had a reason, he assumed. But he was sure his brother wouldn't be so bad. Pretty sure. And they never talked about a dad. Probably ran off on mom, the bastard. Ah, well.

    "Say, man. I'm lookin' for my brother, actually. Mom dropped me off nearby to come stay with him." Unless Lochwood turned out to be too much for him to handle, but he wasn't going to add that part. He eyes the guy though, because wouldn't that be just his fabulous luck if he'd landed right in his brother's hands? Or Mom's tricky planning.

    "I kinda don't know what he looks like though. Our mom is Djinni, and my bro's name is Ivar. You know where I can find him?"

    You know, he was kind of tempted to test his little persuasion on the guy, lighten him up a little, get him a bit friendlier. But he held it back for now. The guy was so serious though. Could use some lightening up, some party time.

    Lochwood

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