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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


    I don't think I'll ever land; misra, kirin, any
    #11
    And she'll always get the best of me, the worst is yet to come
    All the misery was necessary when we're deep in love
    Kirin found himself in what he would refer to as an impromptu family reunion. Impromptu but not unwelcome. How could he turn his nose to the air, snub them? They were family and already he was on the receiving end of gifts, Kirin liked gifts.

    His lavender lips part into a gracious smile, one he does not have to feign for here in the Cove there was little need of masks- not with his own. "Nothing special goes amiss in the Cove, I can assure you." The twinkle in his eye could not be missed, mainly because he made no attempt at hiding it. Deception was not a card well played among one's own kin. "I do what I can dear Grandmother, the progress has pleased me thus far. It would seem we have an affinity for success." The notes drawl on his lips as the girls voice reaches his lobes.

    I haven't.

    Her wings part then, lifting to reveal the subtle fade from dark to light. It was a beautiful blend to be sure, and he could not help but smile. Soon she would be of an age to breed and breed her he would. With any luck she would bear him another winged child, with more luck it would have the beautiful fade of colors to adorn it. And wouldn't you know? Kirin had felt mighty lucky as of late.

    Twisted  thoughts that web his mind are caught, tangled as his attentions are gained by another party. Another woman and foal and for a moment his silvered eyes narrow, his jaw hardens. Just a moment though because her tiding are much the same.

    Great-grandmother, Syntyche.

    Titles, all titles, plain facts were that she was family. They were all his family and this family stuck together. "I am pleased to receive you..." He means to elaborate, truly he does but it is now that his attention falls to the foal that she brings.

    He knows those horns, those toed feet...He knows only one horse who posses such a fine mix of equine and beast and it would be a lie to say his mind did not internally burn at the knowledge. Pollock, he thinks. The note almost soured in his mind at the thought of such a thing but it is not something he can begrudge her. He would however just love to keep the little trinket here, this bit of flesh Pollock had left to be discovered by the jealous heart of a lavender monster. A strained smile pulls at him then, "Lovely boy you have." No he could not be angry with her for this, he could be miffed that he had not received such a gift first though.

    And too he can carefully watch the boys eyes fall to his newest pot of honey, "Have you met your niece Misra?" Any eyebrow lifts with the question, curious at how deep his own sickness ran in the tide of blood and kin.
    Kirin
    son of Khaos
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    #12
    -----
    The girl shies from Kirin at first, but then reaches out under Oswyn’s reassuring glances as Kirin accepts his gift. She smiles as the girl begins to explore, rushing about in the waves with a glee that only children experience. The girl will likely come to regret her easy trust in her mother, but no matter. By the time she figures it out, Oswyn will be long gone.

    Suddenly, something familiar wafts towards her on the wind.

    Oswyn’s eyes immediately light up as she wheels around, ecstatic to see an oh so familiar painted mare. “Mother!” How funny to run into here, but how fortuitous. The whole family finally together, minus her poor, dearest son.

    She momentarily eyes the boy tagging along at Syntyche’s side, noting the wings, the horns, and the odd cloven hooves. Clearly mother has found another stallion worthy of assisting in continuing the family line. She may have to question her further.

    She also doesn’t fail to notice the way that the boy’s eyes linger on Misra, and how Kirin’s eyes linger on boy and girl alike as he introduces them. Disgust threatens to rear its head, but she pushes it down. The most important thing is that her son’s blood proliferate - that he lives on, in a way, long after his removal from the world. Methods be damned.

    “Perhaps I shall bring you more gifts in the future, should the opportunity arise.” Khaos must live on, no matter the cost. “But for now, I must be on my way.” While she is willing to donate to Kirin’s … deviancy, she is not particularly willing to watch it happen. Especially with her son’s body so near.

    She walks to Misra as she plays in the waves, smiling softly. “Now, my dear. I want you to stay here with Kirin. I think he will take good care of you.” She presses her lips gently to the child’s cheek. “I will visit, don’t you worry.” And with a meaningful look at her mother (there are many things they should discuss), she turns to leave.
    oswyn
    I don't think I'll ever  land

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