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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


    milk and honey; ryatah
    #3
    The Dimension; it remains a special time in her life that saw her as both earnest and innocent. That innocence was shed like a snakeskin and left behind. She’d blossomed beneath the parrot-chatter and monkey-talk, becoming pliant and passionate through their guidance and kisses. Never had being a kept woman been so grand in her life, full and lush as the tropical jungle itself but not without her mysteries too.

    Plus, there had been the pale mare. More gray then, but paler now. Having gone from raincloud-dark to stark as bone. Her rich plum eyes drank it all in, even the beautiful blank sockets that once held eyes that had seen so much. Boheme could never resist her, perhaps because of the bond they shared that began in the Dimension and outlasted it and others. Couldn’t resist finding her, begging for a taste of that pale skin that had always complimented her much darker pelt - the kind that is saturated and drips night.

    Her ears quiver at the question, her mouth an answering smile that’ll go unseen but maybe it’ll be heard in the laughter that lilts from her mouth. She wants to cry out and say ‘yes it is I!’ But the sad sick look of her best friend has her pressing her own self close instead to give the last shreds of warmth and life that she has. It is easy to let herself be pulled into that familiar embrace; the kind she’s missed above all else.

    “Oh my friend!” she coos, beneath the caresses and murmurations of her name that land against her ears like prayers. She feels Ryatah pull away at the moment the cough seizes hold of her slight frame, and a frown paints itself prettily on her lips. Boheme sees the blood speck and spatter those pale lips and decides that she doesn’t care. She’d risk it all to just be there and makes up her mind to stay.

    “I’ll take my chances,” she affirms with a step closer than another. Her lips touch Ryatah’s as she begins to rub at the infected blood, mixing her own spittle into the pale fur to clean up the signs of sickness from her friend’s beautiful timeless face. “Besides, we’ve seen just as worse in the Dimension.” she adds dryly, remembering countless times that she’d clean battle-wounds or groom the next stallion awaiting her attentions. It was how they passed the time, and she did not mind sickness if it meant more time with Ryatah. 

    @[Ryatah] ❤️❤️❤️
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    Messages In This Thread
    milk and honey; ryatah - by boheme - 11-18-2018, 05:05 PM
    RE: milk and honey; ryatah - by Ryatah - 11-19-2018, 12:08 AM
    RE: milk and honey; ryatah - by boheme - 12-04-2018, 11:37 AM
    RE: milk and honey; ryatah - by Ryatah - 12-21-2018, 04:23 AM



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