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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


    [mature]  honey don't feed it, it will come back; Ryatah
    #2

    She had tried to forget about everything that had happened, but it had proven impossible.

    Usually, it was easy to move on from any kind of hurt, because she certainly wasn’t a stranger to it. She has been shattered and rebuilt, broken and remade, more times than she cared to remember. She had learned that tears never solved anything, that acknowledging the yawning chasm in her chest never actually healed it, and that no one else would ever mend her broken heart except for herself.

    But, she could pretend. She could paint a smile and steel her heart, she could break herself on her own terms and not theirs.

    Which is why she rarely told anyone anything. She fell into whatever part she was supposed to be playing, she didn’t look for anyone when they were gone, and she didn’t tell anyone with the ability to hurt her that she cared about them. Everything that had transpired in the cave had further cemented that idea, and though she couldn’t forget it – because the marks across her heart still felt fresh, not yet scarred – she had chosen to stop acknowledging it.

    Of course, she hadn’t thought she would find him out here.
    Not in this dark, deserted section of the river. Not so far away from everyone and everything, out here where the trees grew tall and thick along the banks, the limbs stretching partially over the water like a canopy. The river branches off and gathers in dark, muddy pools, and along the solid edge of the bank of one is where she walks.

    If it weren’t for his voice she doesn’t think she would have recognized him, covered in mud and grime, but his swearing gives him away. She stops, standing along the edge, amber and glowing in the shadows of the trees. She almost turns to go, before he can see her, but before she gets the chance he looks towards her, and her eyes find his. “What are you doing?” There is a forced normalcy to her voice, and any other time she would have found this situation amusing. Instead she just watches him, her sable eyes lacking so much of the emotion that they usually held, because she is afraid that if she lets it back in again, she will lose all control of it.

    Ryatah
    even angels have their wicked schemes
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: honey don't feed it, it will come back; Ryatah - by Ryatah - 03-30-2020, 02:03 AM



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