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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


    [open]  It's a long way to the grave; any
    #3

    He doesn’t know how much he had grown to resemble his ancestor (doesn’t even know he is a relation, nor even that he is the reason for Ion’s ability to shift) despite having had the dubious honor of meeting Atrox once as a child. Perhaps it’s fate or kismet that had drawn him here. Or perhaps it is simply the boundless whim of the universe. Whatever the case may be, he knows only that he is seeking something more here in this kingdom. A place to belong. A purpose to define is so far purposeless existence.

    So he is glad not to be met with hostility, though a small, previously unacknowledged part of him had feared just that. While Ion is not afraid of a fight, he would not push in where he was not wanted. And a part of him, buried as it had been, had still been convinced that even here he would not be wanted. (It’s a foolish thing, really. He had always been wanted, always had a home he could have returned to, but grief in impressionable youth has a funny way of convincing one of things even if they are not true.)

    As the large, ancient cat intercepts him, Ion stills. Fixing an unblinking yellow gaze on her, the panther considers the stranger for several long moments. Wren, who had settled onto Ion’s neck in the moments before they’d stepped into Hyaline, burrows into his thick fur with an alarmed trill. Though her eyes gleam with friendly intent, it is hard to temper the face of a predator into something less fearsome.

    Ion has never been a brash or ill-tempered creature (though neither could he claim to be an easy or mild-mannered one), so he waits until she utters her welcome to react. There is an almost imperceptible release in the tension of his shoulders, though his flat stare never falters. He hesitates before responding, not because he does not wish to answer her questions, but rather because he isn’t quite sure how. When he finally does reply, it reflects the uncertainty he feels. “Maybe.” He pauses, then continues stiltedly, “I am looking for… purpose.”

    ion

    in the empty of the grave, only distant dreams remain



    @[Mazikeen]


    Messages In This Thread
    It's a long way to the grave; any - by Ion - 06-08-2021, 10:01 AM
    RE: It's a long way to the grave; any - by Ion - 06-22-2021, 11:05 AM
    RE: It's a long way to the grave; any - by Ion - 07-01-2021, 11:13 AM
    RE: It's a long way to the grave; any - by Ion - 07-09-2021, 10:15 AM
    RE: It's a long way to the grave; any - by Ion - 07-30-2021, 09:44 AM
    RE: It's a long way to the grave; any - by Ion - 08-25-2021, 10:07 AM



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