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09-19-2012, 03:52 AM
MAUJA THE FROSTHEART
there's ice in my veins and blood on the floor
Slowly they drew closer to Faelene, like moths drawn to light; Leyra remained asleep behind them, resting gently upon the grass with moonlight blanketing her. He could feel the warmth radiating off the two mares closest to him, and flipped one ear back as he craned his head to look at the one still asleep. She was so thin... The King drew in the night air deep through his lungs, picking apart the scents, searching for danger - there was none, at least not which the breeze brought him. Nodding to himself, he decided that she was safe for now. And after all, the three of them were not far off at all, should something cruel come their way. He only had no desire to waken her, listening to the hushed voices of the other mares as they stood huddled around Faelene. She had overcome her embarrassment, at least it seemed so to him for she dared raise her head again, and he gave her another gentle smile. Things always seemed softer in the darkness.
A hushed laughter escaped him again, and he gave his head a small shake, moonlight rippling along the crystals on his horn. No, indeed not, it seemed like no one had. "Faelene the path finder," he said with a wry little smile, amusement in his voice. "What on earth made you come that way?" There was genuine curiosity in him, something soft to his edges, his head giving a curious tilt. What, indeed, made a mare crash through the thickest vegetation and then try to leap across a fallen log that size? Not that he was worried about her sanity (hypocrisy, if I had), but because.. well, because it was an odd thing to do and it intrigued him. Briefly he switched his attention to Delinne and her monochrome body. She seemed at ease. Good. She, too, had been tired, the wear of journey evident upon her body and skin, but at least she'd been able to stand - unlike Leyra. |
