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11-29-2013, 12:41 PM
The wanderer let the softness of the world blanket her. Roany skin mocked the stars above, yet mourned the sun’s presence. Something about the love triangle between the sun, moon, and sky was a blessing and it took everything she had not to question it. From her nest against the tree, she watched the sky burn darkly and brightly. Feuille felt rest pour relaxation into her limbs and clear the fog in her head. Canvas lungs steadily accepted sweet air. Adaptation was harmonious. She wasn't settled here with the stars or the moon. No, there would need to be a motivation, a wind to circulate the strands of her tawny mane point her in the direction the wanderer would need follow. It seemed almost tempting, too reviving to stay here under the blanketing stars and sleep forever with the sounds of the forest as a lullaby. But the drumming of her heartbeat, the pulse of gentle blood in her limbs promised that the rest would be short-lived. Would it be worth Feuille's travels to settle, wearily lay down in the murky warm leaves to become one of them? She would need to wither and crumble crunchily under the hooves of a passerby to be kicked up by their dusts and move onward. Whether she tumble on a few feet, or inches, Feuille will go on. A golden earring twist back against the wind to catch the rustle of summer grass in the near distance. A pair of orange eyes followed, and wearily, Feuille rocked up onto tired hooves. The night cloaked her visitor, but she could feel his masculinity. Canvas lungs tasted a foreign scent and her heart pricked willingly. She adjusted herself towards him, accepting whoever he was instinctively. Months had passed between hearing words from anyone. She felt a glowing luminescence trying to climb into her throat, but she swallowed it down and waited, painfully, for the passerby to speak. She could make out his mossy hair in the darkness. “Hello,” And then so genuinely, the fellow dipped his head, taking the moment to idolize his new visitor. Feuille pricked her ears forward and softened her eyes, returning his polite gesture with a dip of her own badger face. “Welcome to Helovia, I am Solace.” Solace's voice was filled with questions the weary Feuille would love to ask, love to fire her voice off into the night. Instead, she held her tongue, fatigue constricting her train of thought. She ambled a step forward, desiring the closeness of her unfamiliar friend. Wisely, she took a mere second to study him, finding the green of his mane to be so beautifully mysterious. "Hello Solace," she greeted back with a remotely girly voice. "I am called Feuille Jaune, my past rattles in the wind and I accompany it here." She was indeed no siren, proving more lanky than curvy, but she had a hell of a lot to woo a stallion with, and her voice was softly daunting. "To Helovia," she finished. |
