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03-22-2015, 03:56 PM
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It felt like longer, probably because I wanted the thing so fucking bad and there was a children skittering about me, wondering if I’ve gotten to the thing yet (so I guess they actually hadn’t left, go figure). I snorted in the middle of my assault on the ice, growling, “Watch out,” with a bigger bite of impatience; then, with a huff, I began my fight with the ice again. I’m not sure what happened to the lights behind me, up in the sky. I was too focused on the thing to notice the way they fizzled out of existence, their lights fading with a beauty that was only matched by their full, fierce brilliance. But no, I didn’t watch them fade; I spent my time sweating and huffing and puffing and moving the muscles in my back and chest and ass and everything and I was probably going to be feeling this later and I gave zero fucks because I was tunneling my ass further and further into the wall of the ice and I was definitely seeing something coppery and rusty and old-- --but it was also in pieces-- --and before I knew it, after seemingly hours or maybe just 10 minutes, I reached forward into the hole I had made with my hooves, my teeth grappling and grasping for something cold that I made my tongue shy away from— --and with an explosive wrench of my neck, I yanked it out from the clutches of the ice, pulling my head out of the depression I had carved and dropping the thing into the snow so I could see it better. I breathed deeply, my sides and chest shuddering with the force of it (hot damn, was I really working so hard?) It wasn’t until I had stopped moving that I noticed how my body was drenched and how the cold air sort of kissed me in every damp place, which is to say, every-damn-where, and I was super fucking lucky that the wind wasn’t biting at that moment. But I wasn’t thinking about all that because I didn’t care--and I didn’t care because I was looking down on a thing that was captivating me. It was…a lot rustier than it had appeared in the ice, smudged and warped as it was by the bluish hue. I was chipped and dented and much smaller than I anticipated, and when I glanced back at the ice, I could see there were more pieces like it, maybe five others, or six, or whatever. The thing was roughly shaped like a thorn, and it was hollowed out, and the metal around the edges was paler and harder than the metal in the heart of the thing. I had never seen a sword before in my life, so I couldn’t compare it to something like that. But—spoiler alert—the shit I was looking at was a piece of a blade. My eyes flashed; I snorted explosively and jumped back into motion, diving into the hole again to carve out more pieces, to free the entire shit that captivated me with its existence. I’ll let Headwings and Whats-Her-Face sort out the fragment I had freed already (although I wish a motherfucker would try and steal my shit), but me? I wasn’t satisfied until I had gotten everything I could out of this huge mountain of ice. @[Maren] @[Tempe] |
