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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


    hold the nail for the hammer stroke; kensa
    #6
    KENSA
    we were golden. we were fire. we were magic.


    Brigade twists her words, turns on her like a beast prepared to claw her heart out. She should let him, and leave nothing for her to destroy anyone else with. “No that isn’t what I meant!” Though it is a fruitless protest. Kensa is frustrated with her tears and the way they choke her voice. Her head is pounding as the reality sets in and she fights back sobs, terrified of the wailing horror building in her chest. “I made a mistake…I...” Should have told him, should have let him escape right away or fuck her and then spurn the love she wants so much to pour out for him. 

    She had been afraid of Brigade, of what she could feel for him when in fact he should have feared her. Yes she is ravenous, but just like any hungry creature she fails to truly grasp the terror of her appetites, the violence left in the wake of her satisfaction. She is ever angrier with herself but when he shakes his antlered heat she raises her voice against him. “You did, did you? And yet you cannot understand why I would risk this pain to be with you?” The worthless argument dies on her tongue because Brigade is reaching for her, pressing kisses to her neck, a succession of hot desperate oaths.

    She gives up trying to defend herself, his lips familiar but not familiar enough on her skin. Now Kensa sobs, presses in, burying her face against the merlot tangle of his mane so that her tears soak his skin. “I was selfish. I am so selfish.” The words fracture, grief crumpling them in her throat. “Brigade, I am sorry. I am so sorry.” She does not feel forgiveness in the heat of his touch, only pain like electricity looking for a way to the ground.  The tears flow freely down her cheeks, and they are tears for Brigade, they they are tears for other agonies that she thought she could allow to dry up, unshed. “I wish…” It doesn’t matter that she wishes she could do it over again, she tastes the bitter selfishness this time. Kensa silences herself and instead presses in to his broad chest, before he remembers himself and shoves her shivering frame away.



    @[brigade] here is hot trash


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: hold the nail for the hammer stroke; kensa - by Kensa - 08-17-2019, 11:41 PM



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