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07-16-2014, 04:48 PM
larkspur The way the parts of me, they always disagree. It's a wonder that this body doesn't break. Stars. They line the sky, countless gleaming, spinning shards of light scattered throughout the colors and shades of faraway galaxies above. They cut through the black backdrop of the midnight sky, like holes pierced in the floor of the heavens, so bright in the company of the moon that even in the dead of night the Frostbreath Steppe is illuminated. The shallow drifts and slight hills of summer snow, small wonders in comparison to the steppe in the middle of winter, roll as far as the eye can see. The mountains are a wall that surround the Aurora Basin to the north, while the steppe fans out before them, a frozen tundra - empty. Not entirely though, the lonesome place of ice and snow has at least one inhabitant this night. The horned shadow floats over the remnants of the summer ice and snow, dusk blue and black against the seemingly endless expanse of pale plain she traverses. She prowls, golden eyes fierce, flashing. She is fierce, formidable - a vicious storm to disturb the calm of this uninhabited place. There is a storm in her heart too, and it rages relentless, impossible to escape. It eats away at her, piece by piece, and has done so ever since her return. And so she found herself here, upon the empty plain of the Frostbreath Steppe, searching for shelter from herself, but failing to find it. Larkspur worries her hooves into the snow, gleaming eyes peering out from beneath her wild and wind tossed forelock as it falls across her face, her long, tasseled tail whipping back and forth in slow, precise calculation. A hunter considering its prey. Yet the thing she hunts is not of this world, it has no physical form, no earthly existence. She seeks redemption, reassurance, restitution. She wants to remember, and she wants to know why. She probably never will. Fleeting, faint shadows of her past haunt her. A childhood entirely forgotten. Her home beyond Helovia, blurred images of a family she knows once existed, but who’s faces are lost to her, now only hallucinations. Even the Aurora Basin, a place that had once given her solace and a sense of belonging, no longer filled the void of her insecurities. The same people she considered family are strangers, and her memories of them are twisted and scattered, a chaotic collection of recollections she cannot deciper. Regardless, she clings to the one thing she has always known, and that is to serve at the pleasure of kings and queens, tyrants and destroyers. She is - if nothing else - a tool of destruction, a reaper of those that rule, a warrior amongst lesser, weaker men. She is unwavering, a watcher in the dark, a wraith. Larkspur knows that if everything else is lost in this world, one thing will undoubtedly remain, whether it be amongst broken kingdoms or broken hearts - and that is war. |
