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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


    my shadows prove the sunshine; solace
    #1

    let my shadows prove the sunshine

    He doesn’t remember how he got here, only that above him is the familiar foliage of the jungle - humid, green and laced with the vibrant color of hibiscus and plumeria.

    He was home.

    For a moment he wonders if any of it is real, his cerulean gaze taking in each part of the landscape with a weary and cautious eye. Part of him knew it was over - the torture, the onslaught he was forced to carry - but part of him holds fast to that uncertainty, wavering between with a gentle shake to his palomino and white frame.

    Svedka had been healed; enough to make it home but not in a way that would deem him without scars. His shoulder still bleeds without hesitation, pouring from an open wound from his own claws - ragged and only partly clotted, staining the jungle floor with his own rust-colored blood. He sighs, his vision fading in and out with each blink, staggering forward on barely usable legs.

    It’s not until he reaches a breach in lava rock that the stallion finally stops, gazing into its open chasms with wide yet unseeing eyes. He’s so tired, so very tired, and when his eyes fall upon a familiar hole within the volcano’s side, he merely watches it for a moment before he enters it’s warm depths, completely disoriented and lost within it’s shadow.

    With a shuddering sigh he leans against the warm pumice of the inside of the cave, his eyesight fluttering in and out. He had no idea of the life that flutters within him, that pulses and vibrates, because his bones are oh so weary. His mind is an eternity away, flitting from the afterlife back to the present, exhaustion in their cerulean depths.

    He collapses to the floor of the cavern with an ungraceful slide to the ground, curling there as if that is where he was meant to die.

    Hadn’t he, though? Hadn’t he meant to die, in that place?

    svedka



    @[Solace] <3
    #2


    She hopes it isn't him.

    She hopes it, and she prays it. Pale pink lips pull tight as a wordless appeal hisses out between her teeth - a bargain with any god that would listen.

    Don't let that be him.

    From the sky, she can see the iron-red streaks across his golden shoulders, the painful and delicate step of a wounded creature. But her prayers are either too little or too late and as she tucks her wings tight to her golden sides, she knows it is her wanderer, her heart.

    Solace falls from the sky in a tight spiral, the frost following her in flurries as she dives with the precision of someone with a decade or more of practice. Her four hooves click on the stone as she lands, already moving her into the cave, and her blue eyes narrow against the dark of it's yawning mouth. Blood gleams black and slick on the stones, glimmering in what little sunlight thinly stretches into the cavern and leaving a trail for her to follow.

    "Sved?" Her voice rings softly against the walls of his hide-out. "Svedka, is that you?" She tries not to let the panic she feels find it's way into her voice, even as her vision fades as she steps further into the earth. She halts. The sound of her brother's labored breathing seems to echo off of every wall, dangerously shallow and impossible to pinpoint.

    In the darkness, Solace closes her eyes, looking inward for what threads of magic ran through her. A light begins to glimmer along her spine, pale, blue, and just enough to illuminate the world around her.

    She sees Svedka's crumpled form immediately. Without thought, her legs carry her to the stallion, and she sinks into the stone beside him. Pressing her lips to his brow, she feels for any fever or chill. "Svedka, can you hear me?" Her voice is as gentle as she can make it, but there is an unmistakable note of urgency there. She needed to get him to the waterfall but, she couldn't do it alone, not if he couldn't walk. The thought that she should get help prompts her to stand, but she remains still and pressed against him. She couldn't bring herself to leave him, not yet.

    S
    olace
        we're reeling through an endless fall
    we are the ever-living ghost of what once was


    @[Svedka] Sad
    Solghostdoll2

    #3

    let my shadows prove the sunshine

    He hears her but he cannot bring himself to lift his head from the warmth of the wet stone floor, try as he might. Even in his condition, she would be able to see the quiver of his neck as he attempts to greet her, his bold blue gaze shattered by things he is sure he could never bring to his lips. The sound of her approaching brings a shudder of comfort throughout his aching body, a soft whuffle of breath leaving his pale mouth as he rests his head against the cavern floor, slumped and breathless and feeling so very hollow.

    Part of him is missing; he can feel it.

    Strangely, though, when her voice seeps through the darkness and the pain and the hopelessness, he feels a sort of jolt - something like when he had been awakened by the Dark god, but it is less fierce. It is gentle, natural, loving. It’s Solace.

    And within that jolt - a mere blink - the pale white and gold stallion’s entire being hums with blue light. It is gone before it even comes to fruition; so quick that not even Svedka noticed it’s appearance.

    He wishes she was at his side and within a breadth of a moment she is. There is a smile that lightly crosses his pearled mouth, trying to ignore the searing sensation in his shoulders that tear with each shudder of a breath from his lungs. “Sol,” he whispers, attempting to keep the smile on his mouth for as long as he could before weariness takes over, leaving him to close his eyes and turn his head just enough to rest it there on one of her slender, ivory legs.

    She smells of the sea and of their home. She bathes him in her soft light - blue and slightly pulsing - adding a sort of enchanting glow to the terrible scene she shines upon.

    “You always said my wanderings would bring me trouble,” he whispers with his eyes still closed, laughter in his throat - somehow trying to keep the situation light - but then winces slightly. You can’t tell anyone you saw me like this; it would ruin my reputation.” 

    His brow furrows, all shadow and sweat marring his otherwise perfect white face. He wonders if she can sense the unease - not just from his wounds, but somewhere deep within him. Solace has to assume that his wounds are from the lion - his lion - but how, she would wonder? He swallows hard. How to tell her? Something is not right and Svedka knows this; but how could he speak of such things when it’s completely possible that he will be sent back there by the night’s end? No, now wouldn’t be the time to tell her.

    svedka



    @[Solace]




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