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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


    [private]  society, you're a crazy breed; oceane/any loessians
    #2
    SEPULCHER
    now is the end of days, and i am the reaper.
    He has kept to himself since arriving in Loess. He enjoys the hot springs and the hot days that almost feel like Pangea, but he appreciates all the little differences as well. No one goes off on hunting parties with him yet they do not snap their teeth and snarl when he has found a meal for himself. Slowly, he grows accustomed to this easier life.

    The morning finds him basking in the sun with his wings spread wide to capture every bit of warmth he can manage. The teeth crowding his eye sockets occasionally twitch as his day dreams take him far from here. Who knows what a monster must imagine when he’s as calm as this. Maybe gore and blood, or perhaps gently crackling fire near the nest he shared with his siblings as a tiny foal.

    Regardless, his small ears turn at the sound of someone announcing her arrival. He turns his great head and examines the outline of her for a few seconds. Her scent on the wind is vaguely familiar, or perhaps something he imagined in another one of his day dreams and not real at all. Sepulcher tilts his head and folds his unseen wings. Either way, it seems worth investigating.

    His dark scales shimmer in the autumn sun while he makes his way to the queen and the young child beside her. Cher offers a gentle croon as he draws in closer. His long legs carry him in a loose circle as he studies them, quietly clicking to himself in thought. He even dares to sniff at them before he seems to approve and come to a stop before them.

    I am Sepulcher,” he says finally, each portion of his face shifting and flexing. He attempts a smile, revealing row upon row of pointed teeth all tucked inside his strange head.
    @Wishbone


    Messages In This Thread
    RE: society, you're a crazy breed; oceane/any loessians - by Sepulcher - 06-30-2021, 06:29 PM



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