harvest moon [Ahriman, Mirage]

the Rift

harvest moon [Ahriman, Mirage]

Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459

Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5

Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE

Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath Chan

09-13-2012, 02:57 AM (This post was last modified: 09-17-2012, 06:39 AM by Lace.)

LACE

Who, in his mind,
has not probed the dark water?

Summer was dying. Tired of her own strength and intensity she had slit her wrists and bled all across the sky each sunset. Her grasp on the lands was waning and she thrashed, writhing in an agony that couldn't be described in words; a pain that a mere mortal could never hope to fathom. They could only behold the effect as the days turned sometimes scorching hot with the air pungent and filled with the scent of all things dying and rotting, and sometimes cold, frost covering the grasses and hovering in the air, so that every exhale stood around the nose like a miniature cloud. Everywhere life seemed to have sped up. There was hectic activity going on in every shrub, every forest, every patch of green and glimmering pool as the creatures of the wild prepared for the retreat of the sun and the reign of moonlight and cold in a season at once longed for and feared.

Summer was dying, but the moon didn't seem to care. For each day she rose the silver disc seemed to grow fuller and clearer, unaffected by the comings and goings of the mortals. She simply existed, bright and mysterious in her untouchable pallor, unconcerned about things like seasons and fear of starvation.
Tonight though, not even the moon seemed unaffected by the passing of summer. Her gleaming faced had become tainted by the slippery blood on her path, so that now when she reigned full and bright in the midst of the cloudless sky, her gleam had taken on the color of intense and startling orange. A harvest moon, hanging full and ripe like a fruit ready for picking... only, no one would be able to reach her.

Not that it kept him from playing with the thought. Here above the clouds the moon seemed so close, larger than he had ever seen it before, and it felt as if though he should be able to touch it if he just stepped a little closer to the edge, reached out just a little.
What would you do with it when you caught it? Fajiras drowsy thought inquired curiously, and Lace smiled as he mulled it over. Hmm, what indeed... It wasn't like he could eat it.
Maybe I'd give it to you to play with. He glanced affectionately towards the pale little dragon that perched on a rock not far from the edge of the meadow, where the earth seemed to just end and give way to puffy clouds. Tonight her perfect white scales seemed to have taken up the ghostly color of the moon, lending them a mild shade of apricot. It was rather becoming, in his eyes, though of course he would probably claim the beauty of his bonded even if her scales fell off and the tail was tied into a knot. He knew that the real grace and fairness came from the peaceful gentleness of her mind, and that wasn't going to fade.

Her laughter rang out over the moonlit meadow in a flutelike trill, melodious and with a clear overtone of affection.
I don't think the moon would be very fond of that idea, somehow.. she lamented, but he noticed how she couldn't quite let go of the thought of how she would entertain herself with the glowing orb.

Lace chuckled quietly and returned to his grazing. Every movement he made was measured and calm, from the jerk of the head as he ripped off a mouthful of crisp grass to the sway of the pale tresses that hung around the sooted hocks. The gray coat gleamed like metal under the pale light, but somehow appeared duller now than normally. The winter coat was beginning to grow out, slowly but steadily, and turned his appearance a slight bit more rugged than usual. Even so there was no mistaking of the fitness of the stallion. Muscles rippled under the skin, the flesh was impeccably filled out. He was healthy, well fed and in the prime of his strength. And for the first time in many years, even the mind was at peace. He felt strong, ready, prepared for anything that might come his way.

With long strands of grass spilling from the sides of his maw he raised the neck and gazed casually around the wide-stretched field. It was a lovely night, and it wouldn't have been awful to have some more company. From her perch Fajira warbled in agreement; they always had one another, but from time to time a bit of change was more than welcome.

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