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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]  I'd live and die for moments that we stole
    #7
    i can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland --

    “You’re not making me uncomfortable,” she tells him, even if she still cannot quite mask the uncertainty in her voice. Straightening herself, she clears her throat slightly, and says more assuredly, “I’ve just never met anyone that’s invisible.” She is beginning to realize, though, that perhaps there are many things in this land that she is not going to be familiar with. That perhaps this land was more different than she had initially thought—that it is not just pristine skies and verdant fields.

    The thought threatens to distract her, causing her to second-guess her decision to stay here.
    Perhaps she wasn’t going to fit in as easily as she had thought, and she was beginning to wonder just how starkly she stood out.

    But she can feel the tension begin to ebb away at the almost laughter in his voice when he comments on her name, and when she responds with a smile there is a hint of heat that colors her cheeks. “You like my name?” she says softly, suddenly shy. Has anyone ever told her that her wings were pretty, or taken any notice of her name? She can’t remember; back home, she thinks she had looked like most everyone else. There hadn’t been anything about her that set her apart from the rest, and she had grown accustomed to blending in.

    She does not have the chance to get lost in these thoughts for long, because his answer to her last question causes her lilac eyes to widen a little in surprise. “Oh,” she breathes a quiet exhale at his explanation, and what reflects on her face is something deeper than pity—more like sorrow. She isn’t sure what to say, then, because an apology feels wrong. The silence that pounds in her ears is deafening, an echo of her heart that hammers uneasily in her chest as she searches for the right thing to say, but she can’t find it.

    “Can I touch you?” is what she asks, surprised by her own words, but it’s too late to take them back.

    -- my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now i’m covered in you

    allaire.



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    RE: I'd live and die for moments that we stole - by Allaire - 02-27-2022, 05:35 AM



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