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Zandora
Yes, dear, I'm smiling
Inside I am dying
Inside I am dying
The air stung exposed flesh, a slow heart beat was all to be heard. Clear liquid streamed from eyes absent of more then pupil, orbs that were absent of purpose, sanity, composure. These voids are filled with pain, loss, and an iciness so numbing that even Zandora, the mare who was once shielded from the demonic traps the world so seemed to be full of, would fall victim to her own weaponry. This was the power of emotion. Emotion was a parasite, and Zandora, was it's host. To which there was no cure.
A black arabian frame, thinned by self-neglect galloped with all it's might, all of it's little power, to the side of the only thing she cared about, Ashamin. The agony each flick of her hoof brought her chest and body was flooded and ignored with these thoughts in mind, she may be further injured by her blind desire to see if Ashamin was okay, but Zandora no longer cared about herself. It was her doings that brought the painted friend to his knees and as long as she could still muster the strength to walk to his side, she would again, again, and again. Crimson swirled and stained the background of white, if it had not been blood, one could call it a masterpiece. Zandora's salty tears mixed with the metallic taste of blood, orbs filling with the liquid thats arrival meant sorrow and pain. "Ashamin" She cried out, her voice cracking at the attempt of his name. Her voice was breaming full of guilt, worry, pain.
The frozen air bit and gnawed on her scraps and cuts, her breaths shallow and labored. She looked down at the black and white, seeing blood freely flow from his cuts, the way is leg looked swelled and awkward, and pure shame filled her soul. He had to be freezing, he needed warmth. An ebonite dished face looked up, the taunting smell and feel of blood still dripped from her nose and gathered in her throat, but she still felt no inclination to take care of herself, Zandora knew she would pull through, but Ashamin, she did not know. Her desperate eyes found Ashamin's red Sarong, it seemed miles away on her broken body, but she reminded herself, he needed her. With awkward steps and a trail of crimson, Zandora grabbed the silky material with bloodied teeth and ran back to Ashamin's side, the only place that she wanted to be. A cough erupted from her battered body and more blood splattered the white blankets of ice and snow, but Zandora kept going, working quickly to stretch out and cover his black, white, and red frame.She would be fine.
Standing over him, her head lowered and eyes closed, she waited. Purple daggers dug into the solid ivory earth, nothing would remove her from her position, nothing. Everyonce in a while a wet cough could be heard, and more crimson could be seen added to the white and red masterpiece of mistakes.
She would be fine.
Would he?
OCC: Um....sorry for so much emotion(Jen will post then Britt(NPC) will post, and then you healers can post :) )
TAGS: @Ashamin @Enna @Lena @NPC
INFO: Zandora has suffered many broken ribs, as well as a punctured lung, and her lung is flooding with blood, she has a few cuts on her right side from tree bark, but they are minor.
Ashamin has suffered a fracture in his right humerus, as well as many cuts, one major cut that is very wide can be seen on his right(?) shoulder. Both are pretty badly bruised. (Did I get everything?)
"Talk?"
A black arabian frame, thinned by self-neglect galloped with all it's might, all of it's little power, to the side of the only thing she cared about, Ashamin. The agony each flick of her hoof brought her chest and body was flooded and ignored with these thoughts in mind, she may be further injured by her blind desire to see if Ashamin was okay, but Zandora no longer cared about herself. It was her doings that brought the painted friend to his knees and as long as she could still muster the strength to walk to his side, she would again, again, and again. Crimson swirled and stained the background of white, if it had not been blood, one could call it a masterpiece. Zandora's salty tears mixed with the metallic taste of blood, orbs filling with the liquid thats arrival meant sorrow and pain. "Ashamin" She cried out, her voice cracking at the attempt of his name. Her voice was breaming full of guilt, worry, pain.
The frozen air bit and gnawed on her scraps and cuts, her breaths shallow and labored. She looked down at the black and white, seeing blood freely flow from his cuts, the way is leg looked swelled and awkward, and pure shame filled her soul. He had to be freezing, he needed warmth. An ebonite dished face looked up, the taunting smell and feel of blood still dripped from her nose and gathered in her throat, but she still felt no inclination to take care of herself, Zandora knew she would pull through, but Ashamin, she did not know. Her desperate eyes found Ashamin's red Sarong, it seemed miles away on her broken body, but she reminded herself, he needed her. With awkward steps and a trail of crimson, Zandora grabbed the silky material with bloodied teeth and ran back to Ashamin's side, the only place that she wanted to be. A cough erupted from her battered body and more blood splattered the white blankets of ice and snow, but Zandora kept going, working quickly to stretch out and cover his black, white, and red frame.She would be fine.
Standing over him, her head lowered and eyes closed, she waited. Purple daggers dug into the solid ivory earth, nothing would remove her from her position, nothing. Everyonce in a while a wet cough could be heard, and more crimson could be seen added to the white and red masterpiece of mistakes.
She would be fine.
Would he?
OCC: Um....sorry for so much emotion(Jen will post then Britt(NPC) will post, and then you healers can post :) )
TAGS: @Ashamin @Enna @Lena @NPC
INFO: Zandora has suffered many broken ribs, as well as a punctured lung, and her lung is flooding with blood, she has a few cuts on her right side from tree bark, but they are minor.
Ashamin has suffered a fracture in his right humerus, as well as many cuts, one major cut that is very wide can be seen on his right(?) shoulder. Both are pretty badly bruised. (Did I get everything?)
"Talk?"
![[Image: 56a075b49df35]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/56a075b49df35)
No restrictions on things that can happen to Zandora, please tag in first posts only.
