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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


    Sorry, Not Sorry [Diable Rouge, any]
    #9

    LONGCLAW

    -I close my eyes, ignore the smoke-

    Yes, they could chase her - and Longclaw watches her haughty shift with the soft shake of his head. Ugly and stupid, not a very welcome combination. Sure, they could chase her but the blue warg sees it as a waste of time. He can’t leap into action as Diable does, (though he feels his legs strike out into a tempo that will guide him after the other guard) because he finds Karaugh and her petty little remarks beneath him.

    “Diable!” He calls out, digging into the earth with renewed vigor, “Diable wait - don’t waste your time.” He says when his gait allows for them to travel in tandem together. Parallel, the two stallions will soon find the journey on foot would end fruitless - even together they couldn’t hope to outmatch her wings. The pesky bat was made to be quick and hard to see.

    “Let’s find Dahmer instead, or someone else in charge. They’ll know how to deal with the nasty rodent.” The younger male laughs, a booming sound that grows in volume when their stride begins to match. “Don’t waste any more of your time on her - she’s not worth it.”

    And with the gentle nudge of his fanged mouth against Diable’s scarred neck, he offers to lead them elsewhere. Let Karaugh be a shameful creature and tarry someone else. They had other enemies to devour. Longclaw fills his lungs with a deep breath of smoky haze and pulls his legs to his chest, allowing for the energy of a race to flow through his body. With the sand below them and the waves beside them, he felt as if he could run forever and (as always) he hunts for a challenge.

    Diable is taller, his bloodline stretches back to descendants made for stamina just like Claw. They seem a good match.

    “Channel the anger, brother!” He whoops, flames sparking at his heels to leave trails of black imprints behind him. “Race me.” The devil says, and turning a green eye to his peer he smirks wickedly.



    @[Diable Rouge] Since this has moved on and Karaugh is technically a captive now, I thought we could either tie this up or just have some 'guy time'. Up to you!
    [Image: sScEgld.png]


    Messages In This Thread
    Sorry, Not Sorry [Diable Rouge, any] - by Karaugh - 11-01-2017, 07:32 PM
    RE: Sorry, Not Sorry [Diable Rouge, any] - by Longclaw - 11-16-2017, 04:18 PM



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