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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


    [private]  when i'm set alight, pentecost
    #1
    Leonora
    ‘You’re afraid,’ the daughter had whispered in the dark.
    And Leonora had only nodded because she had been afraid. 

    Afraid, mostly, that she would never see him again.
    That he would never know how beautiful the daughter was or that she thought she loved him but didn’t know what love was supposed to look like. Only knew that she still did not know how to stomach the thought of hurting him, still hadn’t forgotten what it felt to be touched by him.

    Afraid that the stars would never return and she would be left adrift without the constellation branded on his neck to orient herself around.

    But she had not said those things.
    She had only smiled a patient mother’s smile and pretended that it was the kind of fear she could overcome in time. Everything would be all right, she told the daughter, so long as they were together. 

    And the sun came back after two years of continuous, impenetrable darkness and they emerged something new. Different. And Leonora had said goodbye to the daughter and returned to the meadow, just in case. 

    It has been days and the heat is thick and oppressive and she yearns for night, aches to bathe in the light of the stars after so many dreadful months without them. It is as the sun begins to sink heavy toward the horizon that she catches a glimpse of something that shines and her heart leaps up into the narrow space at the base of her throat, hitches her breath. 

    And there he is, standing like a dream, and her heart pounds as she moves toward him slow. As if she does not trust him not to disappear should she move too quickly. 

    Pentecost,” she sighs and it feels like coming home, nothing at all like the way she’d gasped his name the last time she’d seen him. 

    AND IN THE DARK I CAN HEAR YOUR HEARTBEAT



    @[Pentecost] sorry nOT SORRY
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    #2
    He knows what it is like to be afraid. He found it hard to believe not all had, but if the unrealistic could be true than he truly envied them. To live a life as fearless and reckless as you should being you are hypothetically given one is… well, the ideal approach to living. But he had long learned that the ideal route was a hard path to find, and his own path had been full of wrong turns and dead ends.

    Over, and over, and over.

    So fear had found him and he had found comfort in it. It had began in small doses by avoiding the big situations that made his heart pump, and finished with his ability to avoid even the smallest situations that created a slight churn in his stomach. He had fallen to his anxiety and mastered the art of avoidance in it’s truest most destructive form, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to change.

    He had lost himself.

    Her smell, it finds his nose like a searching beam of light and he saw her with every inch of her scent that wafted into his flaring nostrils. The purple-painted stallion began his brisk journey to find her source despite the egging critique that cried in his mind.

    You’re embarrassing yourself. You’re letting her down. Stop coming back and then leaving her.

    But he couldn’t stop. She had become the drug he never knew he needed; breathing her air electrified him and he needed her shock.

    Whether the heat or his own mind had worked up the lather that tainted his silver chest and girth, he is unsure of. What he is sure of is the movement and hastiness of his stride had masked her perfume and he comes to a halt to gather his senses.

    And then her voice cuts through the air with the usual precision her tone carried followed with her effortless breathless finish on his name and his eyes find her glowing aura so instinctively that it almost feels like coming home.

    “You always find me,” he says because it’s the only words his mind can conjure when so much begs to shout.

    @[leonora]

    Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
               your young men will see visions,
               your old men will dream dreams.
                                         - Acts 2:17
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    #3
    Leonora
    Still, she remembers what he had said to her.
    ‘I burn,’ he had said. And how fiercely she has burned with her want for him.
    Every moment they have spent apart, she has burned.

    And he is here now, standing before her, and she cannot go to him.
    Because she remembers, too, how she had trembled when he had touched her.
    She remembers how the tears had slid slick down her cheeks because she had not wanted to hurt him, though he had wanted to hurt himself. 

    He had asked her if she felt empathy for the things she destroyed but she had never felt more for anyone than she had felt for him. (Why? Why had the universe given him to her and then taken him away? Had it made her suffer simply because she had made others suffer?) 

    She inches closer, though keeps her distance still. She will not capture him in her gravitational pull if she can help it. She will not hurt him again if she can help it, no matter how fiercely her heart beats in the cage of her chest. No matter how desperately she wants to touch him, be touched by him, kiss his head and hold him close. 

    It does not sound like an accusation and she smiles something secret as she studies his face, so grateful that he is here, that he is alive. “I am always looking,” she confesses. “I’ve missed you,” she adds, breathless. She closes her eyes briefly, though there is never absolute darkness behind her eyelids, not with how persistently her stars shine. 

    And when she opens her eyes again, he is still there. “Oh, Pentecost,” she sighs and, because she cannot let him go again without knowing, she says, “you have to know I love you.” She swallows, shakes her head, “even if you have to go, you have to know that.” 


    AND IN THE DARK I CAN HEAR YOUR HEARTBEAT



    @[Pentecost]
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