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11-27-2013, 10:50 PM
She stepped out into the morning from behind the curtain of emerald moss that covered the opening into her cave, the sky a portrait of watermelon pinks and placid indigo's, her face lighted by the colored light that streamed down through the scant clouds that drifted lazily overhead. Days like this, she was happy to be alive, glad that she had slipped away from her mother's side on the night of her death and had avoided the same cruel end that had met both her parents; glad that she had managed to remain living despite the way her tongue often prodded others in precisely the right places to drive them towards her throat, teeth snapping. The mountain looked it's best in the warm red wash of the rising of the Sun, as far as she could be concerned, and she looked long and lovingly at the sight before moving towards the hot springs. Slipping up to her mid-shoulder into the delightfully warm water, her tail a collection of black adders moving along behind her, she bent her knees to let the liquid flow across her withers and back; her weekly summer bath, a luxury that could be afforded only in the warmer months at such heights unless one wanted to remain in the water until the snow thawed. It was hot, but not unpleasantly so; she felt sweat gathering around the base of her ears and the curvature of her throat, dark bangs sticking to her moist forehead as her eyes nearly rolled back into her head with the pleasure of the sensations rippling across her skin. Rising to her full height now that she was mostly wet, she shook vigorously to remove excess dirt that might be clinging to her pelt and repeated the process several times before stepping out of the warm waters and out into the full blown morning sunlight, shivering her flesh to release the clinging water from it's location on her golden streaked coat. Like a dead thing, her saturated tail hung limply behind her, a few extra inches than usual meeting the grass in it's heavy state, the woman feeling, for the first time in days, entirely whole and alive. @[Tolio] There was a river once, with many round stones enchanted by shallow hopes of embracing the ocean; water is peculiar this way, how its life is a line that cannot bend or change without the approval of its bed. |
