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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


    Catch my heart on a string [Reave]
    #11

    one lives in hope of becoming a memory

    Despite my obviously logical explanation, @[Reave] seems intent on making the whole thing a joke. It’s hard not to play into it, especially since I’m also young and prone to boredom avoidance as well. It is fun to poke a little humor into the situation, too, so it’s easy to make the jest, and I can tell that it really delights the similarly aged colt standing before me. I laugh when he asks if I’m absolutely sure, but then a little spark of an idea occurs to me, and I give him a kind of innocent (though devious) grin and shrug my shoulders. “Or maybe I just know a family secret that you don’t know.” I wink at him.

    As the conversation turns to the mushrooms, however, I find myself torn between the two topics, and a part of me still holds on to poking fun at my dad’s expense, while the other part of me wants to discuss the topic that I had actually been thinking about quite a bit. Ever since mother had taught me about the different types of mushrooms, I had grown curious about these hallucinogenic mushrooms. And though I joked with Reave about this, the thought jabs at that bubble of curiosity in my brain.

    I laugh at his “chivalry” and with a glint in my eyes, I quip back at him, “Are you sure that’s the gentlemanly thing to do? I mean, gentlemen are supposed to ensure the lady is protected, and you wouldn’t be protecting me by making me eat the poisonous mushroom.” I wink.

    Even still, I can’t stop thinking about the thought of a fat and shaggy father with a giant turtle shell on his back. And then another idea pops into my head (it would seem I’m full of those today). I’m not sure it will work, but it gives me a new thing to try with my echoes. “Hang on,” I tell him. Then, collecting up all the concentration I can muster, I try to cut and paste aspects of one memory onto another. With the odd image in my head, and unsure of whether this will even work, I push the memory toward Reave’s consciousness while trying to suppress a laugh (because the image is nothing less than hilarious to me).

    I’m not sure how it lands, but I’m hoping he sees my comedic interpretation of Yanhua with a giant turtle shell on his back and a fat and shaggy belly to match a set of shaggy paws where his hooves should have been. “Did you get it?” I ask, eagerly, grinning broadly and shifting my weight from one hoof to the other in an anticipatory way.

    Memorie

    Image by Calcifer
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    #12

    If Reave actually were the gentleman he claimed, he would have to admit that it probably would not be very chivalrous to let her risk consuming the potentially poisonous mushroom. But Reave is not a gentleman, not really. Lilli had tried very hard of course, but there’s only so much one could do for a boy as hedonistic as Reave is turning out to be. Answering once and for all (at least in his case) the age old question of nature versus nurture.

    So as she quips back her retort, Reave’s nose wrinkles in disagreeable denial before another laugh escapes. “Well, if we’re being fair, you’re the one with all the mushroom knowledge. Surely you can tell the bad ones from the good?” His brows lift as he peers questioningly at her, heavily implying that perhaps she couldn’t.

    To his surprise, the mushrooms are quickly forgotten in lieu of the former subject. Something clearly caught entirely in her imagination now. Reave of course doesn’t truly believe Yanhua to be the curious Grodylin, but to his amusement, a memory clinging to lighthearted amusement is now surrounding Memorie. A patchwork memory of her father and the shaggy, shelled beast she’d met, pasted swiftly together.

    He laughs at the image, delighted that she had been so enamored by his fanciful notion she had chosen to craft a memory to suit. To a less discerning eye, it might even have felt as real as the truth. If Reave had seen only the memories that clung so tenaciously to her more tumultuous emotions, he might even have been inclined to believe. But Reave had seen much, much more. Memory could be fickle, but sight most certainly is not.

    With a wide grin stretching his lips, Reave chooses to lean into it however. “I knew it!” he announces triumphantly, eyes gleaming as he peers impishly at Memorie. “He does make a rather spectacular beast.” His grin widens then, gaze shifting speculatively to the forest beyond Memorie. “Maybe we should go catch him in his nightly exploits.“

    reave



    @[Memorie]
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