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05-09-2014, 07:15 AM
Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. Here Regime tormentors held her and her two daughters captive. Yet now the doe was far to exhausted to continue hating her captors, the anger had burnt itself out and the tears over her horrible time here had dried up completely. To continue despising The Regime would probably end up killing her, animosity was not something the doe was meant to cling to. Being here would help her onto the path of letting go and moving on. The evening air kept her cool, her eyes glassed over. Not too far from here she faced the brute and his dragon, battling to be free. Closing her eyes Arah allowed herself to let go of the memory, it scared her to forget the treatment she had received at his hooves. However she knew it was time, for enough of it had passed to dull the sense of revenge. Opening her eyes and pressing further on, pushing past the ghosts that lurked in the corner of her vision, Arah paused and watched her mind reenact her daughters fighting The Regime. Both fillies were gifted with magic. Arwen called the spirits of the dead, Arwen called upon the fires of hell. Yet in this battle Wynter had also hatched, there was always a sliver lining to be found. Sighing, Arah allowed this memory to fade into almost nothingness. It was too much almost, turning back to the creek where she had last felt safe, the doe trailed down it. From above Wynter cried a warning, someone was lurking ahead. Pausing, Arah wondered if it was one of her previous captors, yet it she was truly trying to let go, then she should confront her fears. Sucking in a deep breath, she continued to press forwards down the stream. In her mind she whispered to herself over and over; be brave...be brave. The Frostheart stood over the same stream. The evening colours played with the alabaster coat, the dark spots that decorated his body caught Arah's gaze. Elegantly bowing her crowned head, the doe looked over The King's hooves. Remembering it was he who once plagued her dreams. His pure coat, quick words and striking gaze her captivated her, now her golden gaze roamed over his fallen form. She did not hold any pity in her orbs, nor did she believe Mauja wanted any. In someways he was nothing but a dream to her only in her past dreams he never disappointed. That was why she admired and respected him, yet now? Now she felt...empty and even the sight of her fallen king could awaken her emotions. Was she soulless? Was she selfish? How would she face this possible conversation? Her mind whispered two words; Bí cróga. |
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.
✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽
✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽
