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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


    there was a garden of evil in the palm of my hand; castile
    #3
    Sochi

    darling, you're wild-eyed, empty, and tongue-tied
    maybe you need me or maybe you don't

    There is a heat that flares between them and it is dangerous, keen-edged. She is not naive enough to not feel the way it could so easily draw blood. Still, she has never been one to shy from such things and she does not shy now. Does not do anything but lift her bold, silver gaze to his, studying the harsh angles of his face, saying nothing but soaking in that feel of his breath rippling across the edges of her flesh.

    “I could say the same,” she finally answers, her voice throaty and low, bordered by something that almost sounds like a laugh and almost a growl, falling into that dangerous space in between.

    She is quiet again, always quiet, and thinks on how it is comfortable in his presence.

    She doesn’t feel the need to explain herself or pretend or answer any pressing questions. He doesn’t push expectations on her and doesn’t ask her to be something she is not. She can just exist near him, can simply be who she is, who she is becoming. It’s a relief, a breath she doesn’t even realize she had been holding that she can loosen around him, inhaling deep and feeling the edges of his spice on her tongue. 

    There is a moment where she is almost hesitant, almost second guesses herself, before she sheds such things completely. She reaches over to close the distance between them and her teeth graze over the strong arch of his jawline. They are blunt now, followed by the whisper of scarred, velvet lips and when she withdraws there is a spark in her silver eyes that doesn’t die completely.

    “Is this your land to welcome me to?” she asks, husky voice lifting, the smoke of her laugh chasing the question as she glances back around them. She takes it in for the first time, appraising it with different eyes. When she is done, she just nods, approval in every line. “It could be worse.”

    playing the slow rooms, howling at half moons
    if you are a Queen then, honey, I am a wolf



    @[Castile]
    [Image: sochi.png]

    I was less than graceful, I was not kind
    be out watching other lovers lose their spine

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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: there was a garden of evil in the palm of my hand; castile - by sochi - 01-09-2019, 12:35 AM



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