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04-01-2015, 11:28 PM
Bellisma
The sound of a loud stallion’s voice ripping through the peace of the Falls sent trembles through the golden mare’s body. She had become too comfortable, too relaxed- and now it was crashing around her in the bugles of war.
Immediately her legs itched to flee, to fly from the sound of war. War meant prisoners, meant chains, meant torture. But her flickering ears heard the forces coming from all directions. So she nervously skittered up the hill, stopping as she neared the foals. One was foul mouthed, one was scared, and one was sent away by a grey mare who was licked with flames.
Large green eyes followed the path of the retreating foal, but terror held her in place for a moment longer. Scared eyes bounced from the foals, to the black form of a stallion who barked out a laugh. She shied away from the sound. Was he mad?! Probably, but the golden pixie was not going to speak with him to find out. And rightfully so as he became a crow and disappeared into a tree.
Lastly, her movement had brought her close to the secluded dark grey mare. The eagerness and interest on this mare’s face unnerved Bellisma even more. But this was a mare, and- hopefully- not inclined to violence as she was on a hill instead of joining the fray below. “What is happening? Why is it happening?” the bells of her voice float quietly out, hushed by fright.
Her small body shakes, her barrel moves with quick breaths, her flanks are dark with sweat. The sounds of battle are not new, but they are always horrendous.
Immediately her legs itched to flee, to fly from the sound of war. War meant prisoners, meant chains, meant torture. But her flickering ears heard the forces coming from all directions. So she nervously skittered up the hill, stopping as she neared the foals. One was foul mouthed, one was scared, and one was sent away by a grey mare who was licked with flames.
Large green eyes followed the path of the retreating foal, but terror held her in place for a moment longer. Scared eyes bounced from the foals, to the black form of a stallion who barked out a laugh. She shied away from the sound. Was he mad?! Probably, but the golden pixie was not going to speak with him to find out. And rightfully so as he became a crow and disappeared into a tree.
Lastly, her movement had brought her close to the secluded dark grey mare. The eagerness and interest on this mare’s face unnerved Bellisma even more. But this was a mare, and- hopefully- not inclined to violence as she was on a hill instead of joining the fray below. “What is happening? Why is it happening?” the bells of her voice float quietly out, hushed by fright.
Her small body shakes, her barrel moves with quick breaths, her flanks are dark with sweat. The sounds of battle are not new, but they are always horrendous.
Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower; but only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf, so Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down day. Nothing gold can stay.
-Frost
Her early leaf's a flower; but only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf, so Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down day. Nothing gold can stay.
-Frost
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