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03-18-2015, 01:55 AM
I never thought I'd die alone
I'm too depressed to go on
You'll miss me when I'm gone
Frozen air presses out of her lungs and bursts from her nostrils in a transparent mass. The land is dead in the way that no one wants to inhabit the endless spread over than the animals that she can't see and plants that accept that they've been rooted to this empty location. Without the sea of snow spread out before her, it isn't actually the steppe. Her heart pines for the endless blanket outstretched as far as the eye could with pale skies over head, an almost desolate landscape both ways that met each other at a blurred line, massed behind skyscrapers built of stone. The north is spring wasn't really the north, as the desert covered in snow and ice would never be the desert that you think of when you hear the word.
This wasn't the place that she'd always known, and she cursed her assignment to the north for the season. At least during Frostfall this land would be filled with something: snow, bittersweet memories, and northern lights. Oh, how she loved the northern lights.
In broad daylight that swallowed the night in a gluttonous fashion, leaving behind only small pieces, there was nothing but grass to fill the bellies of those who visited and soft, weak sunlight. Burned skin found relief in the gentle caress that a northern Tallsun day brought.
Her patrol partners were gone, somewhere she couldn't find them, and while she was nonetheless patient, loneliness nipped at her breast bones, putting chips in the walls of bone encasing her heart.
Emptiness kills was a lesson she'd learned too hard in the past year. Having escaped the grasp of self-brought death through depression was an experience in itself, but it always discovered a way to resurface.
The silence is shattered like glass with her whinny, crying out in a way that makes wonder why basic instinct would want her to look for someone when her mind found social settings difficult. It might of possibly been the worrisome feelings she harboured for her patrol partners, but as the cry escapes her once more, instinct is more to blame.
Neck extended and ears forward, she listens for something. Knee high grass slaps against her legs as if to remind her that she has some sort of company in the land, but offers no relief.
Sometimes, the land went ahead and swallowed all of those that dared to venture out into it and became last, doing so without a single care of anything that might of meant something to whatever they could discovered a purpose for.
OOC: Seasonal patrol for the Dragon's Throat.
Anyone is free to reply.
@[Ryuu]
you were angels,
so much more than everything
:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed
