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07-02-2014, 11:38 AM
take a look in the mirror - see the truth in your face Rikyn plows into the Basin at top speeds, his cloven hooves splaying the sweet grasses aside as his sleek black frame races past the framework of the second sentinel, the shadow of the one that stands already blotting his already dark frame even darker; as she watches him ahead of the two adults, she is reminded most nostalgically of herself at such a young and innocent age, capable of enjoying the sensation of sunlight and the song of the birds without so much heavy thought as it required now. He pirouettes in midair, hooves spread wide as his body curves and arcs, landing with all four hooves squarely on the earth and golden eyes burning in the direction of Chernobyl and his dam. The Lady arrives with more tact, taking her pause just inside the boundaries of the land with the bronze sentinel providing backdrop. Unleashing a quick call into the heart of the Basin to send others towards them if they were interested, she continues with her conversation from the Threshold, having completely caught up on who the major rank holders were – Torleik, Lena, d’Artagnan, Farenjer, Ulrik, Zikar-Sin, Roland – and some of the smaller quips of the herd life. She had caught up on the history up until the point of the wraiths, which leaves her with quite a somber expression on her features. "Had you come home sooner, you may have found nothing but death opposing you. Quite a few of our numbers went missing during a dark plague that swept the land, myself infected for a time," she looks drearily out over the valley, remembering the dark day in which Circuta had come to save them too late to spare the Lady those bleak, fleeting memories. She couldn’t remember precisely what had occurred while she had been contained in that magically altered body, but she knew it was unpleasant; she had turned on the mountain, and surely had attacked her own as savagely as she did any others foolish enough to cross her path. When Midas had healed her, she bore new scars, seemingly from fire, and rippling, distant memories of having been an atrocity with wings and a beak. She shudders, despite her usual cool demeanor, unable to restrain the volatile sensations that rise through her when she remembers the darkness. "The closest word we have come up with to describe the afflicted is wraith – they were living, but not truly so, and they hungered for flesh and many of our number have yet to return from the Shadowlands. The remnants of the disaster can be seen in the Marsh – I myself have not seen it, but there have been reports that the land is dead and weeping still." Realizing she’d gone on for quite some time as she takes note of the heavy and quite bored stare of her son, she laughs liberally with a chiming brightness that defies the subject that she had been speaking of. "But here I am, talking your ears off!" her golden eyes crinkle and sparkle, her son laughing into the mountain air with her for he agrees, "Do you wish to know of anything, yourself?" @[Chernobyl] |
