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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


    say a little prayer for you
    #1
    Larke left Tephra and Midnight misses her.

    This is an absolute, uncontested fact. The young stallion spends most of his time kicking the forever fallen leaves of Sylva, bugging his sister-mom or his siblings whenever the occasion arises; but he is empty, he thinks, without the affections of his tried and true friend.

    Their separation is not purposeful, at least on Larke’s part. Midnight would never avoid her, at least that is what he tells himself after he has spent that past couple of months avoiding her. It did not begin like this, with the roaning boy sulking in the shadows of his mother’s territory. Ischia’s lady had her duties to attend to, people to please, politics to learn . . . the light-weaver knew all of this—

    Still, he let it turn his boyish heart to bitter stone.

    The drama of being so young does not lose its power on Midnight. He sighs into the wind and thinks today is the day he will seek her out—or, he will hover within Ischia in the hopes that she does not notice him.

    Lady of Ischia, he spits in his mind. He tries to be bitter and fails, the sweet face of his friend still brings a soft smile to his face. Midnight will learn a hard lesson, one that will smack and palm and demand he be more selfless.

    For now, though, he drags his hooves as he trudges toward Ischia.

    The summer sun is bright and hot, allowing Midnight to flex his magic and build a light bridge across the channel bordering Tephra. With each step a little more of the white platform grows, and sweat beads on the stallion’s forehead.

    Ocean water laps over his hooves when the neighboring beach’s sand finally settles beneath him. Midnight sighs and wraps the light around his legs, wondering how he can feel so miserable and uncertain in a land as beautiful as this.


    @[larke]
    Reply
    #2

    I said our hearts know deeper seasons than our memories

    Larke still doesn’t feel like she knows which way is up anymore.

    This is her home but it doesn’t feel like home. She is starting to learn the paths and she knows that she will soon need to call a meeting so that she can meet all of her new family, but she hasn’t yet built up the nerve to do so. Instead, she just bites it back and keeps to herself. She follows the trails and learns to fall in love with the way that the beaches light up blue when the moon hangs high overhead.

    Still, she finds herself looking out across the water.

    She finds herself longing for the peaceful days of her youth.

    For wandering around Tephra with her brother, with the quiet afternoons spent with Midnight, with the way Malone could make her laugh until her sides hurt. She misses them, and yet she finds herself alone.

    So when she sees Midnight stepping down onto the island across a bridge so bright that it makes her eyes ache, she nearly doesn’t believe it’s him. She blinks against the sun and shakes her head before her smile grows wide. She steps forward, high stepping several steps before she begins to run, laughing.

    The sand sprays behind her as she comes to a sliding stop, pressing into him without a thought.

    “Midnight,” she exhales as she embraces her old friend, pressing her cheek against his wide back. “You have grown so much. I nearly didn’t recognize you.” She sighs with relief as she relaxes against him.

    “I have missed you so much.”

    Larke
    Reply
    #3
    A fool—

    A fool he was to fall prey to his own selfish desires and misconceptions. Midnight’s heart skitters when he sees Larke’s excited face. All icy dispositions melt at the sight of her wisteria mane. How he longs to bury his nose deep in the smell of those flowers, just like when he was a boy and thought only of how to beat her in their childhood games. Guilt is the last sensation. His face falls at the way it tightens his chest.

    Her face is so bright, so keen— 
    Midnight cannot believe he ever harbored a bitter emotion.

    The sand bends beneath the stallion’s talons when he braces himself for Larke’s impact. Her sliding stop is so painfully adorable that Midnight thinks he might choke. He welcomes the warmth of her neck around his, finding the deepest satisfaction as his nose folds into the waves of the wisteria in her mane.

    I’ve grown so much?” he parrots with a grin, passing an emerald green gaze over the maturing lines of her face. “Look at you! You—” the roaning stallion pauses, stuttering on what wants to tumble out of his mouth. “You’re even more beautiful.” A blush rises to his pale cheeks, and his grin falters to a shy smile. “And cunning, too. How’d you end up with a place like this?” The question is followed by a roaming of his eyes: they reflect the swaying palm trees and colorful birds just a little further up the shore.

    “You have no idea how much I missed you,” he murmurs in return, then steps back from their embrace. His muzzle meets the smooth side of her shoulder as he walks hesitantly inland. “You have to show me around your new home.”


    @[larke]
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