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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


    a crown of blood and ash; any
    #1

    your soul is able, death is all you cradle
    sleeping on the nails, there's nowhere left to fall

    Her skin seems painted as it clings to every inch of her body. The darkness, a reflection of her mother's love, reflects an opacity that seems to dull and swallow all other colors that stand as a meager back drop against the curve of her jaw. Long hair of equal onyx falls in a cascade of waves so it reaches a luxurious length near her shoulder while her preened tail follows along the ground like expensive, disregarded silks.

    One smooth leg drifts from the other, a rhythmic drift, as though the lightly feathered limb dances elegantly. The dark mare had spent some time in the warmth of Tephra for a wedge of time before she faded to the evergreens, mingling in the depths of the land. Relief from a humid summer fades to autumn and so rainfall. Fat droplets emerge from above to gather and fall over the land and across the black mare. Glass green eyes drift upward disapprovingly before one rudely swats her across her pretty nose. Kat is appalled and winkles her muzzle in return before huffing her frustration and picking up a clean trot towards the cover of more densely collected tree tops.

    A fit of irritation leaves her twisting her body to shake away the rain but it is to no avail that her mane sticks to her skin in fine threads of splintered tributaries. "Seriously?" The low tone of her voice mutters hollowly and to no one in particular. Katarina wonders if Vulgaris was still the leader of Tephra but there isn't much doubt. In the brief interaction they had, he seemed to be a clear minded man with direction. A corner of her lips curl slightly in response to the thought of the male.

    Sizzling static bristles and cracks a bolt of lightning not far off that jars a spasm from her. It had been some time since she had weathered a storm alone but it never failed to unnerve the stoic features. A slice of embarrassment stings her pride that she hopes none other than the few deer witnessed. Kat tended to her abrasiveness like a well kept garden, guarded and coveted. It would do no good to employ her mask of solidarity if one saw the mare flinch beneath a storm's rage.

    katarina

    you have admired what every man desires
    everyone is king when there's no one left to pawn





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