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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


    deep roots are not reached by the frost - any
    #1
    She was sick of the meadow, covered in relentless ice and snow that never seems to disappear. She travels through the snow-covered banks with a grim look of revulsion on her features, black legs kicking at the snow as she walks. She wants to run, to stretch her legs and warm the muscles that are drawn tight with cold beneath her black coat. The heavy snowfall from the night before keeps her from doing so, as she was unable to easily move through the thick powder quickly without leaping with every step. So she trudges on slowly and unhappily, leaving a horse-sized break in the otherwise smooth snow that is now as tall as her knees. 
     
    Merida heads towards a small pond that she has been visiting frequently since her unscheduled arrival in the meadow. Here, the snow gives way to the water where she can at least get away from the few feet of powder behind her. She breathes a sigh of relief when her legs meet cold air instead of constant snow, ungracefully shaking them in an attempt to bring the blood to flow back into her veins and muscles of her lower legs.  There had been no snowfall since last night, which Merida was thankful for. With a snort, the mare’s bright golden eyes rest on the frozen water before her, gleaming like glass beneath a cloudless, sunny sky. She wishes to continue moving, but was in no way she was about to hike through the mass of snow again.
     
    A thought strikes her and she inquisitively tilts her head, fiery red tendrils brushing gently against her ebony neck, flecked with red. Glancing downwards at the glass-like ice that shone before her, she merely squints her eyes in thought for a moment before decidedly taking a single foreleg and tapping the ice gingerly with her hoof. The connection makes a solid thudding sound as it meets, reverberating through what appears to be a frozen-solid pond. A slight purse of her lips and Merida carefully rests her hoof flat on the pond’s surface; head still tilted questioningly as she ever so slowly brings her weight down upon it.
     
    A satisfied snort leaves her as the ice holds her weight so far, pleased. She takes a quick glance around as if to see if anyone has seen what has happened (most likely to brag about her bravery), but quickly her focus goes back to the task she had created for herself. She presses her weight into her leg a little bit more, testing the ice. It groans in reply then stops, which Merida took as an invitation to place her other foreleg onto the surface.
     
    She pauses for a moment, glancing upwards and measuring in her head how many strides it would take to for her to get to the other side. A lackadaisical grin finds her lips and without another thought, her hindquarters tighten and release to propel her forward. Sliding uncontrollably but thoroughly enjoying the stretch of ice in front of her, Merida’s strong legs attempt to eat up the ice beneath her to propel her to the other side of the bank. So far it was working, and she finds herself laughing as she struggles to find purchase and to continue forward. She is a quarter of the way across with the end in sight. Maybe one or two more leaps, she thinks to herself, a look of determination and enjoyment across her face. One more…
     
    Excited that she was nearly finished, breathlessly grinning and sweating from her short yet intense travel across the pond, Merida’s hindquarters tighten one last time where she would shortly after find herself on the small shoreline.
     
    Of course, this is not what happened.
     
    Despite the freezing temperatures and her safe travel across nearly three-quarters of the way, winter is near its end and the temperature today was a few degrees warmer than the days before. Add the sun’s light and a cloudless sky; it would be no surprise to a passerby when Merida’s muscles were never able to release to spring her forward. The ice groans and grinds menacingly for a moment, and the suddenly the black mare was nowhere to be seen.
     
    She feels the ice break away from beneath her and a look of horror finds her face just as she submerges, the water unforgivingly cold and sharp in her nose and mouth. It’s mere seconds before she breaks the surface, her eyes rolling as she blinks back the icy water. She coughs and sputters, black legs keeping her upright while at the same time struggling to find either the bottom of the pond or to find a surface to climb out onto. There was nothing, neither beneath nor before her that she could find to bring herself out of the dark, icy water.
     
    Already winded and a bit weary, Merida continues to tread water as her golden eyes search frantically for something that she could use to get her out of this mess she created.
     

    merida
    from the ashes a fire shall be woken

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    deep roots are not reached by the frost - any - by Merida - 03-14-2017, 12:55 PM



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