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10-14-2013, 11:18 AM
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He made his precarious way from the glacial mountain peaks towards the valley grass, the distant heat of the summer sun beating down on his shoulders. Carnesîr did not mind summer, with it's warmth and the fat little bees and the trees crowned with green leaves. It was one of the more beautiful seasons in its own right, with everything emerald and jade, beryl and kelly green, and then with the sparkling sapphire skies with hardly a fluffed-up cloud to mar the dazzling ultramarine. Here in the Basin, Lothíriel Mormeriliel graced the usually succulent but drab grass with blooming flowers, verdant little things of red and gold, rich with pollen that summoned henceforth the wasps and hornets, dressed in their uniforms of gold and black, and butterflies, with wings of colored glass. For a moment, his mind drifted to the girl, the maiden garlanded by flowers, his brow creasing... and then it shifts away again, to other things not so important as watching as the child grow and learn. He wished he could change his name. The stallion did not like Carn, lord of nothing, nor did he like the fullness of his flowing name, Lord of the Sun. How inappropriate a title for him; it was a metal crown weighing his brow down, until his muzzle nearly dragged on the earth. Maybe it would have fitted him one day, would have lifted up rather than scorn him, but now he was a twilight dryad, who flitted among the world when all was gray as his slate coat. The sun no longer appeased him as it once did, and sometimes it chilled his flesh more than warmed it. Far too oft it brooked only memories of Lólindir and Galathil, and of times in the sun when words were the only shadows. The steam of the hot springs swirled over his skin, turning gray to onyx, as he stepped into the burning hot waters, small waves lapping hungrily at his mane. |
for @[Frost Fyre]
keeping it short and sweet to start off with
