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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


    [open]  perhaps it was but a fever dream
    #3
    An immediate unmistakable sound of danger pulls him from his thoughts, only he is surprised at the glint of gold through the shadows. There were no more annoying birds this time – no, something else, much more pleasant. The female’s scent betrayed her location despite the forest keeping her mostly from his sight and forcing him to home in on the awkward thing jutting out of her skull. Some type of mythic, he supposed. He had heard of them as a child along with vague whispers of alliances before the war tore him away from everything he knew and loved. What were they capable of? He did not know. Instinctively, the lone wing rises to face the threat, making Buonarroti appear larger and more predatory. He supposed he ought to thank the birds for that little trick. The knub on his shoulder perked as well, though useless and obscured by the shadow of the former, it did not know any better.

    “Widowmaker,” he comments, his voice even and untroubled. 

    Buonarroti takes a step towards the source. His thick, muscled neck snakes around to angle his vision to better see this horn and it is then that she materializes before him. As lethal as she looks, he decides quickly that she is also beautiful. Indeed, it had been a while since he had seen anyone, let alone a female glittering before him, but already he admired her strength and poise. He did not think her lost soul stumbled upon him, instead vaguely wondering if she meant to threaten him. Maybe these mythical creatures fed on the blood of strangers like him? Horns were meant to impale after all. That would be an amusing death, he thought, if it were not for the pinecone that betrayed her presence. He had had a stroke of luck. Instead of being devoured he would fancy a chat with a beautiful stranger. The day was headed in the right direction, at last.

    “From the Sugar Pines,” he continued, gesturing towards the massive pinecones that lay scattered across the forest floor, “have been known to kill an unsuspecting stallion or two.” 

    He pauses, letting his gaze wander back across the forest as if unseen dangers lurked about them. The wretched wing had never allowed him to blend in. Even in the unhospitable Tundra there had always been gawkers. He could feel her golden eyes weighing in on the thing, dissecting it with her thoughts. Nothing good, he supposed. He let released another sigh of amusement before meeting her gaze and holding it there.

    “Mind your step, lady.”

    BUONARROTI

    haven't I fallen far enough?



    OOC: Not at all! Smile I am trying to get used to him again <3
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    Messages In This Thread
    perhaps it was but a fever dream - by Buonarroti - 12-05-2022, 06:35 PM
    RE: perhaps it was but a fever dream - by Famkee - 12-05-2022, 08:09 PM
    RE: perhaps it was but a fever dream - by Buonarroti - 12-05-2022, 09:21 PM
    RE: perhaps it was but a fever dream - by Famkee - 12-06-2022, 12:28 AM
    RE: perhaps it was but a fever dream - by Famkee - 12-12-2022, 03:49 PM



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