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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


    is this real life or is this just fantasy? [Any]
    #1


    "Is it better to be feared or respected? I say, is it too much to ask for both?"

    Death's a bitch man. It’s boring. Life was full of so much spontaneity. You never knew who was going to die, who was going to sleep with who, what kind of wars you would fight. God that was fun. He must be in hell, the hell of boredom. So many had come to kick rocks at his dead body, wishing him to hell and yet missing him all the same. It had been quite the turnout, his little funeral. Who knew he had so many admirers. They loved him and hated him all at the same time. He understands. His last breath meant boredom for the mortals he left behind. They all lived in hell really. Heaven can’t be real… Then again Magnus wasn’t around so maybe that little bastard made it up there after all.

    Theres no such thing as time here. The concept doesn’t exist. But he exists. Still in the same body that he graced on earth.  Scar ridden dark man with the flaming red eyes. And he has his memories. Only the important ones really. Names and accomplishments that he will carry till the day he… Oh wait. I’ve done that already. In his purgatory, he constantly wanders a land that is always shifting from ice to a dark chamber to an open valley. A mockery he figures, someone trying to punish him with memories of places he served when he was alive. It doesn’t bother him though. It helps him keep the memories from fading. One day they would all slip through his fingers and he would literally be nothing in death. There was an expiration date here as well but this one he was aware of.

    Every day, he broods. As was his nature then, so it is now. There’s nothing else to do here but brood. He broods and watches over the few of his lineage left on earth. One is a complete manipulative psycho, must get that from his mother. Their relationship should have never existed, the way he treated Kennedy would be one of a million reasons he was here. Not surprising when you think about it, that he turned out the way he did. The other is sad and defeated which is not what he remembers her being. There’s always a flicker of emotion but it disappears before he can make out what it was. Hell doesn’t like emotions unless they are of anger or fear. Irritation is what he feels now, watching his progeny when Carnage shows up. God damn it dude. How many times are you going to return? More importantly, when does this monster get to be let out of the cage? Because he’s realized now that although he had been tired and this was a great vacation and all… He was quite over death. The decision is not up to him, here he must remain. So he broods, watches, and remembers.


    n o c r o s s e s c o u n t

    (once king of the tundra; once General & Legate of the Chamber)

    What if I’m not the superhero?

    What if I’m the bad guy?


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    #2

    She knows he is dead and gone. How many years had passed? Six? Sixty? Six hundred? Had his dead mind rotted and holed by the nightmares that he caused on earth? The once mighty king now forgotten and caved underhoof by the living but Zezyl (though somewhere between alive and being dead herself) has not forgotten him. Days when he had given up the throne to be a herd stallion and she was one of his first companions. Her lust was insatiable for him but they burned too brightly. Zezyl disappeared and now she felt ashamed.

    He had slipped away. Moved along. She had been forgotten but she allowed it to happen but she did regret she did not pursue the old tundra king. They could have had one hell of a time. But Zezyl feels compelled to pay her respects to the old flame. She knows nothing will amount to this but perhaps this one last little love letter. Dark pools drift over the barren lands. She can almost feel ole Crossy watching her with those red, red eyes.

    Sigh

    "Sorry, you beautiful bastard. I'm sorry we didn't get to know one another better." The silver painted woman speak in low velvet wrapped tones. Cool honeycomb pools sweep the land as she utters the words. It was the least she could do to finally say goodbye.

    *zezyl



    ((got all nostalgically when i read the old dadamayanti board when zez finally brought her sassy ass to him...this was like circa 2008 lol so if you ever bring cross back, zezyl is down to rekindle))
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