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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


    [open]  I can smell your scent for miles; Any
    #3
         
    DRETCH
    ... and from your lips she drew your hallelujah

    Niklas had been searching for her for ages and she had been avoiding him simply because she knows it vexes him so. Set could simply summon her forth, strangle the mass of creatures living inside her skin with a casual magical grasp. But for whatever reason the golden-eyed mage had set his son – and his darling hound – on her trail and then just … left them to it. He had been stalking her for weeks now. The hellfiend used the shadows and darkness against her but she had thus far been successful in dodging him. She had been following him all evening, for no other reason than to ease her boredom. She fluttered overhead in the form of a moth, at times narrowly dodging the clicking of the bats as they ate their fill of her now-brethren.
     
    She had seen the colt with the red and silver eyes first, Moth-Dretch instinctively drawn to the soft light of his stars, dazzling in the Forest’s deepest reaches. The Forest had become a sort of home for her these past few seasons. She enjoyed belonging to no one and nothing, living where her daily activities can be as capricious as her nature (though avoiding Niklas and Set is a constant).
     
    “You were what, Uncle? Sorry, I can’t hear you?” The black smoke underneath her is still for a breath, then warps in on itself and disappears before reforming into a hollow-eyed Niklas. Dretch winks at the colt, standing up from her sitting position and shaking out her mane. She shifts with the motion, a small Raccoon-Dretch darting toward the stranger, but not before she takes a cheeky nip at Ramsey on her way. The hellhound, typically an ill-tempered creature, snaps back, but it’s a halfhearted effort – Niklas is not the only mortal she holds some sort of esteem for. Raccoon-Dretch scampers up the colt’s leg without permission, clutching at him as she stretches one paw out, trying to grab one of the bright lights suspended around him. “What are you doing out here?” she asks conversationally, as if Niklas were not glowering at them from fringes.
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    RE: I can smell your scent for miles; Any - by Dretch - 04-11-2022, 02:56 PM



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