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  • Beqanna

    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


    anyone;
    #3
    life's like an hourglass glued to the table
    He doesn't understand what just happened, or how. His eyes flicker to the mound of dirt near him where mother was previously. All he knows is that there is a strange sense of loss overcoming him. The warmth that enveloped him has suddenly diminished. A shiver runs down the length of his spine, his body still somewhat damp. "Momma," a whispering voice escapes him, but he doesn't move. This world is different from everything he has known. It's more vivid, more open, and so very green. Mother's voice isn't vibrating through him anymore, however, and he feels alone.

    He doesn't like this world.

    He was forced into this sea of green against his will. Mother brought him here then left him alone. How could she do this to me? anger threads itself in his veins, stabbing into his heart. That's when the sand stirs in front of his fallen gaze. With his chin resting on the soil he watches his own creation come to life, twisting and turning. What the boy doesn't realize is that his mind is manipulating the sand; it marks it as a random occurrence that is shortly followed by a voice. At first Fletchor almost ignores her, caught up in his sand's trance, but she introduces herself and piques his interest. A name. There had been something mother said before the silence ripped the voice from her throat.

    "Fletchor," the boy says when his chin lifts away from the ground. What little sand had been dancing in front of him now settles and soaks down into the soil like it never existed. "My name is Fletchor," he grapples with his voice, trying to sound more confident as he makes a feeble attempt to stand. His legs are wobbly and his balance poor, making the effort a strenuous fail. Back on the ground with a huff, he looks back up to Rhy. "Mom was here, then left. I don't know where I am." He is surprised by the lack of innocence in his own voice; there is more anger, more frustration, webbed in the words that fall from his mouth.

    FLETCHOR
    Lokii x Myrina

    [Image: callwolf_zpsasro4cel.png]



    ick. cruddy post. I'm sorry ><


    Messages In This Thread
    anyone; - by Fletchor - 12-22-2015, 08:48 AM
    RE: anyone; - by Rhy - 12-22-2015, 04:18 PM
    RE: anyone; - by Fletchor - 01-04-2016, 04:03 PM



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