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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]  where the lonely shadows are finally found; Elliana
    #1
    Darkling

    There is little in the way of rhyme or reason to his actions. He is a creature made entirely of his own whims, following only the illicit discretion of his heart. It is a feckless thing, that heart. One could almost question if it existed were it not for the clear affection he betrays for the creatures of his own making. It is simply that he is not bound by the traditions of morality those of this land so often adhere to.

    His morality is instead a thing made entirely of his own shadows and the heights he might push them to.

    It’s hard to say what had drawn him from Pangea on this chilly evening. Summer still hangs with heavy oppression over the land, but the heat has loosened its grip, allowing an unseasonable chill to seep in. It makes him restless, stirring his blood in a way that sends him from the familiar dessicated rock of his home.

    The forest is always a temptation, darkness lingering in its heart in the same way it lingers in the golden unicorn. Like calls to like in an age old siren song, and Darkling has always loved those seductive melodies. His favorite swings through the trees ahead of him, melding with the shadows in a way that leaves the creature nearly invisible. With no scent or sound to betray it, only soulless yellow eyes are left to give away its presence.

    When the creature returns to him, Darkling lifts his head to his creation. It cannot speak, yet the stallion understands it nevertheless. There is someone ahead. Someone that piques his curiosity and draws a dangerous spark to his glittering dark eyes. The shadowy primate scampers ahead of him, silent and laughing. Darkling follows in its wake, finding the object of his interest with unnatural ease.

    “What have we here?” he murmurs speculatively, horned head lit with sly intrigue as he slips through the trees behind her. A smile flickers briefly across his features, though it is far too hungry to be considered friendly. “Has no one told you these trees are not safe after dark?”

    you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation
    I think that I could die for this revelation



    @Elliana
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    #2


    Her death hit in waves. Not a flood, but water lapping steadily at her ankles. You could drown in two inches of water. Maybe grief was the same.


    Never has she known a night to seem as endless as this night.

    Every whispering branch and rustling leaf is holding its breath, while the forest sits in a darkness and blackness so thick she might think herself blind if the blue of her eyes did not burn so much. It is when there is a clearing of the trees in the forest that she can finally erase the blackness, if only for a moment (the shadows always came back to her. Always, always, always). Had the stars always looked so lovely? Like diamonds atop a black mink stole, wrapped like a ribbon a little girl’s hair. Under a spill of soft moonlight, Elliana stood as still as a doll, lashes fluttering closed as she tilted her head towards the midnight sky.

    The world spun, spun like it did when she’d twirl too many pirouettes in a row — yet when she counted to three and opened her eyes, the world did not stop spinning. Blurs of silver, streaks of yellow.

    Cerulean eyes, bright as a lark’s, swept the moonlit forest around her. There was no gold in her vision anymore.

    Only darkness. Once again.

    Always, always, always.

    “Don’t let the shadows scare you.” He said. Her father. Back when she had not known, sitting around the fires, embers hitting her skin. She should known then, that is what a lie feels like.

    Burning.

    Each step blooms a bruise on her heart, soft blues and blacks that are never old enough to yellow.

    On and on she walks with her bruised heart.

    There is no part of her that is content (only wanting) when she looks towards him, only then her steps halting.

    She is patient in the silence that builds between them. It is only one of the similarities that was passed from father to daughter.

    “Is it you I have to be frightened of? Or your shadows?” She asks him, so curious because she, ultimately knows so little of the shadows she has started to grow so close to. She wonders if others grow as curious of the darkness as she does. They lay forgotten as their eyes shut for the night, blind to them.

    But not him.

    « r » | @Darkling
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