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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


    [open]  we're only taking turns holding this world
    #1
    The palomino mare stands at the edge of the water, her pale eyes on the distant horizon. The flowers that bloom around her hooves add a sweet scent to the warm salt air, a perfume so familiar that the horned queen rarely notices it. Not so the presence of the flowers, growing from sprout to fluorescence in only moments wherever she sets her hooves, even in the shallow water and sand of the shore upon which she stands.

    The magic of them is in her crown, the vining greenery that twists about Myrna’s own spiraling horns. The blossoming kingdom is reflected in the crown, or perhaps the kingdom mirrors the crown. She recalls discovering it, and it is that she thinks of as she watches dark clouds gather over the summer sea. A thunderstorm is coming.

    The wind that brings in the storm tugs at Myrna’s white mane, which is unadorned now, though once she had rarely been seen without flowers of her own woven in. She is no longer the young mare that had first claimed the crown, though her pale coat hides the silvering of her hair, and her immortality, healing, and the presence of a magical waterfall that heals all ills make for a potent anti-aging blend.

    It is the children that had made her feel her age, Myrna thinks, her mind turning to the twins Ravin and Luvi. They’re growing quickly, and Ravin - the bolder - has been venturing away from the Gates. How long will they stay, she wonders? She wants it to be forever, the way that Luvi says it will be, but she also knows that there is infinite time for change in the future. Someday, Luvi might want to leave. Someday Ravin might want to go to.

    Does she want to go, Myrna wonders?
    Is she still happy here?

    She is content and safe and at peace here in the Gates.
    But Happy?

    In the depths of her heart, Mynra knows that it is not the Gates that is the issue. This is something within her, something that will not be mended by a change in location. She sighs, not wanting to think of that, and turns back in toward the heart of the kingdom. The storm will be on them within a few hours, so she is not especially quick as she wanders along well worn paths, her blue-grey eyes seeking company.
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    #2
    She dozes most often in holes left by animals who forage for the summer, curling her small body into the grooves the bears and badgers left behind as she settles into her own lonesome slumber. With her thumb gently covering the button of time, Lillia feels moons slipping by in seconds, watches its silvery face waxing and waning to the rhythm of her slow, dormant breath. In winter months when the animals return for their own sleep, the would-be predators soften at the embrace of Lillia's angelic aura. More often than not, the beasts, stinking of sweat and excess, make room for themselves alongside the angel. Lillia smiles in her suspended dream state during those months. When she twitches and wriggles, she enjoys the warmth and comfort of the unsentient beings who flock around her.

    Today, a summer storm brews on the horizon, and Lillia slows the speed of her temporal cycling to admire the burgeoning clouds. Dark grey and pregnant with rain. As the first roll of thunder echoes into this land in which she loiters, her skin erupts in goose-prickles, further jostling her from her sleep. A lovely storm, she muses, her first clear thought in years. I wouldn't mind watching.

    With an enormous exhale entirely disproportionate to her small frame, Lillia tenses all her muscles and feels her pale pink skin stretching and moving with a great stiffness, though not one she bemoans. She welcomes the pains of awakening, blinking her pale blue eyes against the "light" of the incoming storm. As her nostrils begin to flutter to pick up the fresh scent of the incoming storm, the wind sweeps up her mane and forelock in a frenzy, masking her vision as a similarly pale mare makes her unknowing approach.

    "Oh," Lillia breathes, her voice, though unused, its usual high-pitched lilt. "Hello there!" She speaks the word to the white, horse-shaped entity before her, laying as she is with all four of her legs stretched at odd angles, neck streeetching and nose quivering, eyes upturned beneath a haze of tangled hair. Lillia flutters her wings to wake them up from a numbing sleep. "I hope you don't mind my making nice with the beasts of your land. They have such comfortable burrows..."
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    #3
    Myrna
    suffocate the fire  i started--------------------
    right when it kindles



    At the sound of a voice, Myrna’s eyes dart like lightning from the gathering storm, flashing down to the small equine that lies in her path, one who is half obscured by the grass through which she pushes.

    “Hello,” she replies. The queen’s immediate smile is impeccable, and it reaches her eyes when she realizes this is a small adult, not another stranger’s child abandoned in the flowers. Why the other mare is lying on the dirt is not immediately clear, and Myrna tilts her head curiously as she takes the other in, her pale ears turning at the mention of burrows.

    “You’ve been in the burrows?” She asks, and despite her incredulous tone, her mouth turns up in a fondly reminiscent smile. That does explain the dirt, the palomino mare decides, and why she’s not come across this stranger before. “And the animals don’t mind?”

    It has been some time since she’d explored a burrow, but Myrna remembers the resident being rather displeased. It had been a wolverine though, and they tend to be displeased about nearly everything.

    @Lillia

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    #4
    Hello, the stranger replies, and Lillia cannot help but to mirror the mare's beautiful, sincere smile. The ingenuity of the moment makes Lillia's angel heart ache for home - heaven. Suddenly breathless and unwilling to let this kindred moment pass, Lillia lays her mind on the thread of time and weighs it down, slowing it so that seconds pass between the beating of their hearts. In this suspension Lillia admires the crinkles of the mare's eyes and the way her lips quiver almost imperceptibly at the height of their smile. Her rapture prevents her from considering her own countenance and how it might be perceived in this slowness. Legs askew, face hair-strewn, halo practically hanging on by a thread. And yet, that is the beauty of a serendipitous meeting of kindred spirits, is it not? That one finds another in her utmost self-expression, and loves her for it from the start. 

    At last, she releases time.

    A friend is she, the angel decides.

    So, she listens and laughs at her friend's incredulous tone whilst shaking her mane and ridding her face of its iridescent pink locks. It's during her friend's second question that she heaves to her hooves. There, she gives her whole body a shake, releasing a poof of dust into the air much as any horse might after a trusty roll. Despite this remediation, her coat remains dull with detritus. She doesn't mind.

    "Well, minding doesn't really cross the creatures, well, minds when they come upon me in their burrows..." She pauses, mouth narrowly agape as she digests what she's just said. With a small harrumph, she tries again. "What I mean is, most simple creatures feel soothed in my presence. It's a side effect of my nature." She tosses her head to gesture to her halo, a sheepish (or is it impish?) tilt to her smile. "But I must say, I did have quite the fright when a mother bear used one paw to swipe me across her den. Just when I thought I was done for, she slide her two cubs right into me and curled up around all three of us. That was a cozy, if smelly, winter."

    She ends the tale with a trill of laughter, her eyes squeezing shut as she raises her dished head, the sound of her mirth mingling with the wind in sweet harmony. At laughter's end, she inhales deeply, then exhales, and at last opens her still-smiling eyes again upon her friend.

    "I am the angel Lillia. What might I call you, Golden-Smile?"
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