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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]  été le plus beau jour de ma vie [Any]
    #1
    Bardot
    I know what sin is

    The sun is bright and high in the sky, sporadic gray clouds listlessly float by and cast cool shadows across the lush green meadow. A hawk lazily circles above but otherwise the open expanse of hill and grass is quiet. Her hooves delicately pick their way around large rough stones that jut out from the ground, grazing as she goes. She has come to like the cool foggy redwoods of Taiga but sometimes a change of scenery can do much good for ones headspace.

    Since becoming the “Amazonian” of the forest, she really hadn’t done much in her new home except exploring and getting to know one of the other residents. She aims to rectify that in time but today is just for her. The sun is warm on the curve of her backside, buttermilk skin washed into pale gold by the rays of the sun. She is washed in the strange scent of the passion flowers that weave into the long raven threads of her mane and tail, a strange mix similar to hints of honey, magnolia, and gardenia. At first the fragrance had been overwhelming but with time she had gone nose blind to it. The smoky quartz horn that spirals out of her forehead had been a little harder to adjust to, having to watch where she moved her head so it wouldn’t get tangled in undergrowth or accidentally poke someones eye out. She’s grown use to angling her delicate skull in a safe way, grown use to these small gifts of magic that had woven their threads into her DNA.

    As a cloud crests over her, bringing a moment of coolness against the heat of her skin, she raises her head and looks out over the rolling meadow with calm golden eyes. Not enough clouds to bring a spring storm, she thinks. A pity, it would be nice to feel the cold drip of rain after such a luxurious sun bath. The land still remains mostly quiet, some horses are in the far off distance but remain far enough that she can only make out blurry shapes. Instead she is graced by the presence of rabbits that dart from their burrows in rounded dens of grass, the song of a meadowlark from a nearby tree, the soft silvery ripple of water in the stream. She closes her eyes and breathes it all in.

    Just another peaceful day.

    They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
    html © dante.


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    été le plus beau jour de ma vie [Any] - by Bardot - 05-30-2021, 02:04 PM



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