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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


    La petite papillon - Thatcher, Illae, any
    #2
    Amorette led the way, and along with Thatcher, Illae left the meadow behind her.

    The journey was long, but not so arduous that it became difficult nor her breathing laboured. As they crossed from one terrain into another, traversing through forests and over sand dunes, Illae could not help but wonder at the magnificence of the world she found herself in. She had thought she had seen everything, had known everything. But she had known nothing of the bigger world, had known nothing of this, only the meadow. And her eyes were glazed with an enduring wonder as they travelled. So many adventures to be had, one could so easily tumble into the next. No longer would she need to laze in meadow grass and sunshine because she had been bored, or flitting shadowlike through tree trunks and branches spying on others because she had been burning with a curiosity and there had been nothing else to feed it.

    This was just the beginning, from now on her adventures would be endless. And with an excited snort Illae picked up her pace when she suddenly realised her inner thoughts of wonderment had left her lagging behind the other two.
    Eventually Amorette stopped, turning towards them, her eyes welcoming and her maw cloaked jovially with a smile, and Illae knew they had arrived.

    And there they were, The Gates. Folding out before her, hills lush with spring grass and wild flowers. It was everything Amorette had mentioned, everything and more. “It’s more beautiful than anything I know.” She whispered, her voice pitching with an imbued awe as her big dark eyes took in everything.

    ‘Come, come! You should see our magic tree!’


    And Illae followed them both, just as curious and just as excited. Thatcher seemed like he was about to jump out of his stripes, and Illae couldn’t help but giggle as she trailed them.

    ‘Can we touch it?’ Thatcher says, and Illae wondered that too. And she sensed Thatcher’s excitement become entangled with something else. Was it fear? Hesitation? Illae wasn’t sure. And she bumped Thatcher playfully against his cheek with the tip of her muzzle. “Why so concerned?” she teased, before glancing back to Amorette, her eyes alight with the only question that mattered.

    “What type of magic does it do?” she asked. It would be hard to imagine anything here could be evil, and yet Illae understood from the stories her mother had told when she had been much younger that magic was as complex as it was vast. Thatcher’s hesitation was perhaps sensible.
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    RE: La petite papillon - Thatcher, Illae, any - by Illae - 12-10-2015, 10:03 PM



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