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12-04-2014, 03:05 PM
Fig
As she stood with baited breath, lips cast faithfully towards heaven’s brightening arc, the voice of another split the deafening silence and mossy green eyes danced down to find its source. Oh thank you! she cried silently, ever grateful that the God’s of Prim’sylva flanked her journey no matter the distance from home. Heavily feathered legs began the arduous act of turning her bulk through the dense carpet of snow, though the blossoming delight in her expression had turned already very quickly to greet the stranger. The lonely concern seemed to melt from her heart and she called back warmly without any reservation, “Oh I feel the same way!” Leaves shimmied above in the soft grace of sunlight, and those that were not bruised and browned gleamed heartily. The snow glared harshly as she tried to view the mare and she found herself squinting between thick dark lashes quite in vain. Fig was no fan of this wasteland – the air was dry, cold and offered no comfort to a wandering Lignea who knew mostly the embrace of balmy forests and bountiful sunlight. At last she could see a little clearer the sleek curve of an alabaster pelt as it slithered with matchless grace forward – perhaps the most focal point was her face. Glistening, pale eyes set amid shadowy coal hues drew swiftly the young tree-girl’s focus, so too the dark, sharp spiralling horn between, and she thought the other looked marvellously feminine, captivating. “I am called Fig,” she offered pleasantly, softly, her tone slow and her accent long... “Are you lost as well?” It seemed the most plausible of reasons – she couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to linger with purpose across ice and tundra. Thick, tendrils strewn with twig and leaf jerked between cascading roots, but they were sodden, heavy, and lay only in a lifeless trail by her rear. As Fig considered the mare before her with a thoughtful eye turned, hope warmed through her core. Perhaps they could find the way south together; it would be a fine thing to have company, and she was certain one so poised and approachable would hold inside a bounty of history from which to learn. Still the Lignea’s gullible smile lengthened and she rocked left beneath the awning of glossy foliage to rest peacefully. |
