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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


    And you know I'm loaded [any]
    #1
    Killgore
    Time is different here, endless, insignificant. The world continues on, progresses but here everything is much the same as the day she had come, and it had stayed that way. Days and months and years pass and the chocolate vixen wouldn’t know the difference because it simply doesn’t matter- she does not matter. It’s been years though since she’s graced the Cove with her presence, years since she’s wielded her body in ways that made men and the earth quake around her. Always self serving, always narcissistic and in the end a bit rattled but wicked ways would do that to you.

    It had been years since Killgore had served Khaos, the one true God, it had been years and still she could remember his name. Remember, of course she did, just as she had remembered that she was supposed to ascend to his greatness- but she had not. She hadn’t served him well enough, she was a liar, a falsehood and for that treason she paid. For her untruths she was held responsible, and not only had she lost the favor of their one God, she had lost the favor of Kirin. Instead of obtaining some glorified muchness Killgore had earned nothing, limbo, an eternity of non existence.

    Killgore remembered dying, even if she could not remember when, how long ago it had been. The bay beauty recalled the way she had ended and whom had brought about that end. Could she hate him for it? No. She had loved him so much but love is not enough to bear the weight of her wrong, that she knew- she always knew. She was capable of great hate, capable of monstrosities and murder, Killgore was made of all these things but she could not bear her son ill will.

    It was less painful than she had imagined, more shame causing than anything. If she had taught him anything she had taught him well, he had stripped her of her vanity, her beauty. Kirin had instructed his girl to rob her of her youth and the child had done so without blinking an eye, she had done it without shame, she had even said Goodbye. Could she be anything but proud, even then? They left her that way, let the world kiss her into that sweet forever night, and she had crawled across the beaches but only just. Killgore had withered away like a rose against the summer sun, wilting in moments as her last breaths struggled to escape her lips.

    Now she wanders, a dark blotch against the too pale backdrop, the water-colored world that was now her own. Here there was sand too, white-washed and dull, an ocean but the waves would never carry her away. Overhead she was sure the gulls sang their awful tune but though she could hear them they never crossed her sight. The breeze felt real most days, salty and sweet as it pressed against her sultry form, in death her youth had been restored to her, but here that meant little and less.
    who's the fairest of them all?
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