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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


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    [private]  A sick thought can devour the body's flesh; Set
    #1

    A sick thought can devour the body's flesh more than fever or consumption.

    Something that runs rampant in the air is what draws her out of the shadows today.

    Rousing and electric, it beckons her from that dark copse of evergreens she has been idling among as though there is no other choice. Tension has left every muscle in her small body tightly wound, and every dark hair across her spine and hips on end. Perhaps, rather than the air itself, the feeling is coursing through her own veins, bleeding out into every square inch of tingling flesh. Perhaps it’s bigger than coalitions, or revolutions — instinctual, written like hieroglyphics across the strands of her DNA.

    Whatever it is that leaves her anxious and quaking, the only conclusion it leaves her with is to find him.

    So, she goes, the same feline switch to her hips to make it seem as though she never rushes anywhere, and the lemmings are there, of course, to show her the way. They scurry feverishly across the still icy tundra seemingly as suddenly desperate for his company as she has become. She should use some tact as she crosses the island, but naturally does not; the north remains unsettled, though if she were to speak candidly now she might admit she lost most of her passion for her previously begun endeavours with the coming of the piebald magician. Instead, she moves quickly without the added hindrance of trying to remain concealed from the Nerinians. 

    There are bigger motivations at play today.

    She feels him before she ever rounds another evergreen to see him, that same familiar thrum of his magic meeting hers. “Set,” she says when he does come into view, with an upward inflection to meet the last letter of his name and betray her rather playful mood.

    “It’s been too long.”

    phasus



    @[Set]
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