M E R I W E T H E R

The air was crisps and clear. Fall was upon Helovia, or Orangemoon as they called it here. It had been awhile since the militant mare had taken flight and she missed the clarity and freedom it held the two very precious things that could never be robbed from her. With a heavy sigh she pushed the thoughts of her past away, struggling to murder the ghosts that remained. Though it was unlikely she’d ever fully rid herself of death, war, and destruction. For it hadn’t been that long ago that she had been the right hand of the Tempest Realm’s King. Yes, Meriwether would always be a queen to her men, and a murderer to the rest of the world. All it took was killing Cansrel., ending his greed and power to possess everything, ending all of the corruption. She had undying devotion for the Tempest Realm but taking out someone of that importance doesn’t exactly give you immunity. So rather than stay around and deal with the consequences, she sought out a new home and a fresh start. Meriwether felt more like a soldier in the dark, a broken soul, as opposed to being renewed, baptized by the unplanned circumstances which brought her here. She would always be a force of destruction, a war flag proudly standing, amid the setting sun. Wanderer or not, she could go where she pleased, no king could prevent her from doing so now. She was free bound only by her own laws and morals. Twisted as they may be. After all her moral compass didn’t exactly point north.


Meriwether shook herself, voluminous lilac tresses falling across her face, while she directed her attention to her surroundings. She gathered her frame and struck out with a broad dished-shaped hoof , carving away at the damp soil in boredom and frustration. Beams of sunlight settled upon her back as a few rays peaked out from behind the clouds as yellow orbs peered from beneath her forelock to marvel at the land before her. It wasn’t long before Meri cast her head over her shoulders, to check for wandering eyes, while nostrils flared, trying to catch a scent of any equine around. Indeed her guard was up as she faced this unknown territory. She didn’t need any vindictive psychopath to come barreling out of the woods in attempt to assassinate her for murdering the Tempest king, corrupt as he was. If push came to shove she was perfectly able to defend herself, or so she had hoped. She was magic-less now, unable to manipulate even the smallest of sounds. She didn’t often rely on rely on her powers already trained and disciplined in the art of war, yes, she was skilled in the art of intimidation and fear her magic had just been a small addition to her character.

---

tags: --
ooc notes: none.
words: 473



Actions.
'Thoughts.'
"Speech."