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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


    [private]  leaving all my past and silhouettes up on the wall; svedka
    #1
    and since you’re the only one that matters,----------------
    ----------------tell me: who do i run to?

    It hadn’t taken long for Pteron to realize that his exaggerated promise was entirely impossible. He has to take his eyes away from Aegean sometimes, he reasons. He has to blink after all, and to sleep and to watch for danger.

    Pteron does that last one now, though his ears and nose do much of the watch; his olive eyes are half-closed. It’s hard to keep them open when he is this tired, but he can tell that Aegean is already fast asleep. Pteron’s head rests on the dip of his lover’s back, and the deep and steady breathing of the antlered stallion as he sleeps is as reassuring as it is soporific. Pteron’s eyes drift all the way shut again, and he dozes off.

    He wakes when his head rest stirs beneath him. Pteron shakes his head as if to banish sleep, and pulls away after pressing a brief touch to the other’s shoulder. He’ll not be able to stay awake if he stays like this. They need a better nest than a thicket in the woods, Pteron thinks, and not for the first time. The pegasus shakes his head a second time, and it spreads to a roll of his neck, then shoulders, and a flare of his massive blue and white wings. There’s barely enough room to spread them full, and soon the tall stallion snaps them back to his sides. In another moment they are gone entirely. Still there, of course, but invisible to the naked eye.

    As Pteron begins the short patrol route that he has established in this part of the Forest, the sleep slowly falls away. It often does, once he is moving. He makes his way through the patch of beech, across the the ravine gurgling with water from yesterday’s thunderstorm, and up the small hill from whose peak he can just make out the outline of the Mountain. Pteron feels uncomfortably close to the place, and shivers. He tells himself it is the autumn chill though, an easy excuse with how bitter it blows. His invisible wings are good for blocking it at least, but he finds himself longing for warmth.

    He begins to move down the hill, ready to complete the last quarter of his patrol. But there is a sound in the shadows of the woods, and he grows still as he searches for the source of it.

    -- pteron --




    @[Svedka]
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    leaving all my past and silhouettes up on the wall; svedka - by Pteron - 05-01-2020, 12:02 AM



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