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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


    And so you choose
    #11
    my friend makes rings, she swirls and sings
    she’s a mystic in the sense that she’s still mystified by things
    Times is here.

    He comes to her on two legs, and he is strange. 

    Nyxia takes care not to look at him – looks at everything but him. At the long, dark, slippery tunnel of stone she fumbles down, like a newborn, following the far-off sound of that helpless cry. She explores the thick clumps of moss that clutter the rock like fractured, green continents in a dark, gray ocean.

    She takes care not to look at him because he scares her.

    He plays such unfair games.

    “Where am I now?” she asks quietly, but it grows loud in the emptiness that surrounds them – infront and behind. It rattles off the smooth surface of this strange place he has brought her, this strange in-between (she has been here before. But before it was impossibly dark and out of his reach.) ‘Are you mothers?’ she thinks, but does not say. In her peripheral, she can see his hairlessness and those wide, feline eyes blinking at her. He is something like what mother might make, perhaps? They wander, astride, for some time (some time – you see, an incalculable amount of time! be is seconds or hours) until finally, he says something that stills her and draws those bright, golden eyes to his own piercing stare. “H-her?

    Who is she?”


    Time doesn’t listen.

    Time pulls her ever towards.

    He pulls her towards the threshold that consumes him in white fire, so bright that for a moment she stops and shutters her eyes against the sudden onrush of light. Her ears tip back and the overload of her senses buzzes like a million bumblebees invading a peaceful forest…. Until… 

    Until the quietude of his absence falls over her body like a heavy, wet blanket. Like something she has felt before – loneliness? Because without him she is lost in the weeds between never and forever. Sadness? Because that loneliness breeds it aggressively; multiplies a hundredfold. It is a cancer that stops her from calling for them (‘father’ and ‘Irisa’) and leaves her dumb and dull.

    And then the sound of water reaches her stony shore, and that is something. She follows it eagerly, as once she had followed colour, like a starved hound, out of that darkness and into that dream. Nyxia gawks at the glassy, turquoise water that expands ever outwards to the horizon, interrupted only by the fractured, green islands of here and there. And nothing more. She knows the way back is gone; she can feel it wither away at her back, cutting her off from the world ruled by time.

    “There is nowhere to go,” she whispers, and a million tongues make themselves heard in every word. Bewilderment. Amazement. Some hope that maybe this is the plain on which she is reunited with those she has lost; some measure of sorrow, because she knows that simply is not so. She wanders the shoreline, watching crabs sidle away from her feet; she watches the tide come in and touch her toes, so briefly and gently, before retreating back – crabs in hand.

    She watches the clean, wide sky ripple in the water as she wonders whether or not this place knows night. If it knows dusk or dawn. Or if it is stuck in a kind of permanence, lorded over by the lazy sun that guides her, steady, to what she begins to imagine will be nothing. Warmth, like welcoming arms, cloaks her and in this embrace, she becomes drowsy herself. She yawns, her golden eyes blinking serenely.

    “Lay down,’ the soft, motherly voice comes from nowhere in particular.
    “I can’t—ahhhh,” she yawns again, shaking her head slowly, dragging her feet.
    “Of course you can… where are you going, anyway?”
    Nyxia drags on, the questions knotting her mind, the heft of sleep weighting her tongue, “why,” she stops, blinking out across the still water, to the belching volcano and the lush jungle beyond, “I’m… I’m not sure…”
    “Then… why go? Why not stay here?”
    “I have to… find her…”
    “Who?”
    “Who knows,” Nyxia replies, soberly, slowly beginning the process of dropping to her knees for a nap.
    “Then who cares.”

    A sleep like no other takes her. Substantial and terrible, it is navigated, not by time, but by nothing, and so it has no beginning or end. It simply…. Is.

    (For minutes or hours, she sleeps, and she dreams nothing.
    She is thankful for that.)

    “...mine!”

    (It echoes in the nothingness. But it is so far away!
    She strains to hear it.)

    “...finders….”

    Her lips twitch above the surface, her eyes rolling under her lids.

    “KEEPERS!”

    (Her sleep quakes and rattles, and forces her out.)

    She sucks in air, but what comes is half water. It fills the back of her throat, stoppering her airway. Panic takes hold. She fumbles to her feet but she finds the unkind resistance of water making her legs heavy. The lavender mare opens her mouth to breathe! Scream! Cough! She can see, now, that the tide has (over some time) crept up around her body, hoping to drag her back with it, eventually. She gains her feet with much splashing and finally air forces itself from her starving lungs. The exhales that follow are damp sputters.

    “DAMN!” the voice from nowhere in particular screams, much harsher than she remembers.

    Faint rattling, like seashells clattering, fills her ears “...come! This way! quick!”
    Nyxia’s eyes dart left and right, but she sees nothing. Still, the voices (for there is, she thinks, two – though, they are so closely intertwined as to be almost one) are bright and amiable, and she thinks she has them to thank for saving her. So she races after them, away from the anger that hangs over the first shore now, like a raincloud, and across the half-sunken sand bar. She follows the sounds of the shells in her ears and the faint, impish chittering and giggles until she reaches the opposite shore.

    Slowly, memories return to her – how she got here; remembers that, in truth, she does not know why, yet. Everything – a lifetime and… a death, even – takes root again in her mind, and she is so distracted by the immensity of it, that she does not realize that she is not alone.

    “...don’t sleep there…”
    Her eyes snap up. In front of her stand two horses, almost entirely identical, except for the garb they wear, fashioned from seashells of all sorts fastened together by water weeds. They are young, perhaps only yearlings. They are lanky and wind-blown, both a dirty gray. Their hair is matted and hung with ceriths and prickly cockles.
    “...never sleep there!” the second twin repeats, exasperated.
    “I didn’t know,” Nyxia replies, earnestly, glancing back and forth between the two.
    “...probably forgot. It’s what She does…”
    “...ah, yes, you must have forgotten….”
    “...never forget!”
    “Well, I didn’t mean to but, I couldn’t help it.... Where am I? Can you tell me?”
    The shellycoats look at each other for a long while, as if trying to get a story straight, and then in unison, “you’re here.”
    Nyxia can tell, without having to be told, that is all the help these strange children will offer. “I… I’m looking for, a woman… I heard her screaming and somebody told me she is in danger. You don’t know where she might be? Did you hear any screaming?”
    They look at each other again, saying nothing at all. And then, “...screaming! Oh course!
    —I heard screaming, coming from there!”
    one of them motions to her rear, were the jungle grows, dense and dark.
    “—I heard it over there!” he motions, exaggeratedly, to the looming, black volcano, jutting up towards the sky. They smile and nod, both, letting slip little giggles.

    “That is no help at all!” she blurts, suddenly very angry. (Anger is not a thing she is used to tasting – it is bitter; it reminds her of dreams.) She huffs, brushing past the shellycoats, whose snickers fade away as she stomps towards the jungle, drawn by the familiarity in trees and roots and flowers. She is familiar, too, with the darkness there. 

    It is cold and she finds she must walk ever so carefully here, but the richness of the understory is welcoming, even if it is not meant to be. The eyes that blink at her in that gloom do so on the periphery – they do so among the many that stayed with her after the expulsion from her mother’s world. She cannot tell the fact from fiction, so she cannot tell what threatens her. They are more like companions to her, even the ones that lick their chops. Whether because of full bellies, or because there is easier prey elsewhere, they do not touch her. 

    They let her wander their home until she tumbles out the other side, finding herself, once again, blinking against a rush of light and at a battered, thatched hut sitting all alone.
    and I pray to blades of grass to find forgiveness in the weeds.


    i'm so sorry.
    it's just under 1500. meets slumber and distraction in two shellycoats.
    Tarnished x Heartworm
    #12
    They say "Curiosity killed the cat"

    Golden brown eyes, gifted with vision perfect for low light, sift through the dark, and just as she wonders how long she's been walking, there comes to be a strange creature walking upright beside her. Whoa, check him out! She barely has a chance to as he speaks, his voice cutting the silence around her and echoing off the cave walls. Ah, so he is the one behind the magic that brought her here. She listens intently to him, catches the faint touch of concern in his tones when he says "Save her" and disappears. There is someone who desperately needs help, but this creature-man couldn't save her himself. Somehow, though, he believes she can. A wave of determination fills her and she nods, narrowing her eyes and moving forward. "I will do this." So many unanswered questions, but there was only her now, and this light at the end of the tunnel. With a deep breath and another tug at her heartstrings for her twin, Briske steps out into the sand.

    At first, she must clench her eyes shut at the blinding light of the sun, and she snorts at the sudden wave of heat that slaps her in the face. Immensely different from the icy cold from before she'd entered the cave. Slowly, she blinks them open and scans the desert before her. Sand, endless and golden, reflects the rays from above and adds to the heat. Taking a few steps, she gets a feel for the give under her footing. Once confident, she picks up her pace into a high-stepping trot for easier motion. And at least, with a slightly quicker pace, the heat doesn't seem to press down on her so much. She lifts her tail in her excitement, as there always is for the young-hearted at the start of a journey. She doesn't know what to expect of this adventure, but she is eager. Soon, she comes to the fork- subtle, but there. One way is a mostly flat and rocky path. The other is a mix of highs and lows, the sandy dunes going on as far as she can see. It doesn't take her long before deciding to take to the dunes to the east. If she was gonna go on a long trip, at least this way seems more exciting.

    Ah, sweet girl, if you only knew.

    Some time later, Briske had come to slow her pace a bit, saving bursts of speed and momentum for when she must climb the highest hills. Dang, but the sand is tricky, and there were times she lost her footing and fell, only to push back up and continue on. This was becoming harder than she'd thought, and it crosses her mind that maybe she should've gone the other way. "Go back.." There is a voice in her head, sounds like hers, so she doesn't question it. She walks and walks, wondering if time still stands still. It's like she has traveled so far, and yet feels like she's gone nowhere, with nothing but sand ahead. Okay, and the occasional rock, crispy dry twig bushes (that tasted awful), and these weird prickly things. She grunts as she shoves herself on, a thick sheen of sweat coating her, attracting the sand and dust so that it sticks to her skin. Itchy. Her head starts to feel fuzzy and her feet are getting heavier. So thirsty. "You don't belong here. Go back." She shakes her head, trying to clear her mind of the discouraging thoughts. Her voice, but not hers, all at once. Briske doesn't give up; won't. She was needed. She would save Her. Whoever "her" was. "You're too young for this. You can't do it. Go back."

    NO! "Stop it! I won't go back! I can do this! And I will!" She shouts into the air, angrily. She almost doesn't recognize her voice, crackling in the dryness of her throat. Briske licks her lips and spits as she tastes the salty grains on her tongue. Yuck! But it felt good to feel a little saliva working in her mouth and coating her grayish lips. Suddenly there is a low laugh behind her. Startled, the girl freezes in her steps, gaze jumping to the source. A vulture, from the looks. Staring down at her from a perch on a cactus tree with eyes so hungry and piercing. Bri pins her ears, and the she-bird laughs again, deep and condescending. "A tasty snack you'll be. It's coming. Better run." The vulture takes off, swooping sloppily high into the sky and Briske glares up after her. The hell was she talking about? What's coming? She flips her tail, rolling her eyes and goes to move off. And yet, something catches her attention somewhere off to her rear right. If not for her keen sight, she may have missed it. Just a subtle shifting in the sand. Small, and yet the carrion bird's words ring in her ears and she gets a sinking feeling in her gut. It takes her a heartbeat or two longer to realize that was no small movement at all. Something is under the sand, and it's huge. It hits her like a bolt of lightning, sending every nerve ending alive with fright. 

    Just as she turns to scramble between two dunes, the thing bursts from its cover behind her, letting out a feral screech. She panics, forgets all thoughts of tired and thirsty; ignores the ache in muscles growing worn from the unaccustomed usage. She runs, not bothering to look at the thing. But it's big, it's loud, and it sounds hungry! No! It won't be tasting filly today! Not if she can help it. "Go away!" She throws over her shoulder and catches a glimpse of huge pinchers and sooo many legs. Oh crap. She pants as she runs, leaping up the sides of the sand mounds and sliding down the descents. Anything to gain ground. She dares a look behind her and regrets it immediately as she sees the giant beast crashing through the dunes. Like they're nothing! Its six red eyes all focus on her, pinchers reaching, six clawed legs piercing the sand. Its tail curls up over its back, so menacing with the way it ends in a point at the tip. Not good, definitely not good. The thing screeches again and she whimpers at the burn in her muscles. She tries to stick to the lower parts of the sand, darting between the mounds instead of trying to climb them. Her mind races as she tries to think of a way, her heart thumping in her ears. Surely, her legs would give out on her if she continues like this for much longer. Already, she feels herself losing speed. No! She cries, tears burning her eyes and the creature roars, lowering a pincher to slam to her left, barely missing her. With a yelp, she jumps to her right, spinning to face the beast. 

    Running wasn't going to save her. She would have to fight. With pinned ears, she glares her fury at the monster and screams at him with all her might. But its unfazed, raising that nasty tail and preparing to strike. She waits. And when it comes, she darts below him, aiming a buck at one of its legs. It connects and she feels a crack, satisfied when the thing shrieks. She darts out behind it as it leans to that side, favoring that leg. It spins on her and, enraged, strikes again, this time coming far too close to her. She feints, but it moves and one of its claws scrapes her side. She cries out at the pain, but it is only a minor wound, and more would come if she doesn't move! She rushes under the beast again, throwing her weight into a forehand kick to another leg on the same side, spins and kicks out with her hinds to kick the same spot as she goes to run out behind it again. This time, she knows she will have slowed it down, and takes her chances bolting away again. Muscles be damned, she was getting through this! The creature bellows behind her and she laughs, gaining distance. She looks behind her to see it shrinking away and- It was leaving!

    Full of adrenaline and triumph, she ran until she knew she was well enough away that the creature wouldn't change its mind. Though before long, fatigue returned and she slows, throat parched. A nice pool of water sounded truly wonderful to her about now, and as she walks, she starts to believe she sees just that. A pool surrounded by green and trees, with the sun beginning to finally sink. At first she thinks it might be a product of her wishes combined with this dreadful heat. However, the closer Bri gets, the larger the scene became, beckoning her. And she gladly obliged.
    Good thing I'm something more.


    Briske encountered dehydration, fatigue, and a hallucinated conversation with a vulture filling her with doubt, and then she was attacked by a giant scorpion monster. Word count: 1495 (GAH, that limit was sooo hard)
    PS: If this sucks, I'm sorry. Finished writing at 4:38 in the morning x_x
    #13
    irisa missed the deadline and respectfully withdraws, but since I posted this after the deadline, have no complaints if Time punishes her for withdrawing too late <3




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