the Rift


[JUDGED] Buried by the sands of the hourglass

Maren the Crownless Posts: 264
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.0 :: 6 HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Mr. Teatime :: Siberian Tiger :: Sing Yewrezz
#1


M A R E N


"We've been here forever
And here's the frozen proof
I could scream forever
We are the poisoned youth."

__________________________

With her hooves sinking deeper in the sands as the morning sun moved higher a dull-eyed tiger-mare watched how horses in the distant waddled and splashed through the water of the oasis. She would've joined them if she hadn't felt so unmotivated to do so. Still, she thought of herself as being bored and unachieved - and she felt useless. Sure, she was a disciple, but compared to the warriors, spies and crafters of the herd she was also simply useless when war did come. The sigh that had left her lips got carried away by the traveling winds of the sea. Having looked at the same spot for too long, she blinked and squeezed her eyes, then looked around her. In the golden haze of the dunes a white unicorn crossed her vision. She couldn't help but feel intrigued, for she had not met a unicorn unicorn in these new lands yet. With a new determined strides she crossed the dune that lay between her and her, for she might have found the diamond of the day - as in; the most interesting thing she could think of at this moment of time.

Coming closer, the unicorns features became clearer and she noticed that they actually looked quite alike. As in body-type, not the horn-funzies that she thankfully had not been cursed with. It seeming very unpractical. Since the tiger-mare had approached the frost-skinned from the back, she made sure to be rough with her movements to make enough noise to not make her jump. Having now moved her own tiger-striped body next to the strangers blank one, she suddenly forgot how to pronounce a simple 'hi'. Obviously that was the heat's fault, so she casually kept her gaze on the horizon where the sea waters waved in the faraway. She pretended to chew on a forgotten grassblade when she glanced from the corner of her eye to spot a crimson eye. Suddenly she knew what to say. "You seem out of place somehow."




Setting: A regular morning in the Throat with rising temperatures. Sand dunes made of loose grains and uneven ground. Also a bit hazy, but with still a bright sun.
Teaching spar with @[Ophelia].
[0/3]


|| Notes: || Wordcount: 334 || "talking" ||

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Buried by the sands of the hourglass - by Maren - 02-18-2015, 06:51 PM

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