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08-24-2015, 04:13 AM
Maybe the solution, Samaiel thought drowsily as his eyelashes brushed across the mud, was to become a god. He'd heard of it happening, it was totally a thing. A mortal becoming a god. There were trials and stuff, but he could do that. He could be a god of fire. All the mud around him would be baked to dry clay - snow would melt instantly - water would evaporate - heaven. It would be heaven.
The big brown unicorn was folded up awkwardly halfway down a hill, half-sunken in a pocket of snow, slush, mud and battered sapling trees with his impressive rack of horns offering absolutely no help whatsoever. Leaping down that hill had been a bad idea; his trajectory had been less 'shooting star' and more 'dying comet'. His arse was higher than his head and he was beginning to suspect that he was cast. Clearly, he needed to stop being used to things going his way and start just assuming the worst before he tried anything. Lifting his head up again he glared balefully back over his shoulder. Yep, still attached by his mane and tail to the tree at the top of the hill. As well as to every gods damn stick and branch that had ever grown in this gods cursed sinkhole of a gods cursed stinking forest. Turns out "ignore it and keep walking" wasn't a great way to deal with your hair growing to three times the length of your body in a forest full of snow, mud and twigs. Who knew.
"It's just a day of life lessons, isn't it", he muttered darkly. He was exhausted already and he was starting to tremble. This was going be an embarressing way to die. Although, he had to admit, kind of a hilarious one from an outside perspective. He could just imagine the type of song that would be sung about it. As if anyone would find his body. Apart from the local scavengers. Hopefully they'd be wolves: wolves had a sense of humour, they'd appreciate this.
He sighed gustily, and switched to Plan B: thrashing wildly and hoping nobody noticed.
The big brown unicorn was folded up awkwardly halfway down a hill, half-sunken in a pocket of snow, slush, mud and battered sapling trees with his impressive rack of horns offering absolutely no help whatsoever. Leaping down that hill had been a bad idea; his trajectory had been less 'shooting star' and more 'dying comet'. His arse was higher than his head and he was beginning to suspect that he was cast. Clearly, he needed to stop being used to things going his way and start just assuming the worst before he tried anything. Lifting his head up again he glared balefully back over his shoulder. Yep, still attached by his mane and tail to the tree at the top of the hill. As well as to every gods damn stick and branch that had ever grown in this gods cursed sinkhole of a gods cursed stinking forest. Turns out "ignore it and keep walking" wasn't a great way to deal with your hair growing to three times the length of your body in a forest full of snow, mud and twigs. Who knew.
"It's just a day of life lessons, isn't it", he muttered darkly. He was exhausted already and he was starting to tremble. This was going be an embarressing way to die. Although, he had to admit, kind of a hilarious one from an outside perspective. He could just imagine the type of song that would be sung about it. As if anyone would find his body. Apart from the local scavengers. Hopefully they'd be wolves: wolves had a sense of humour, they'd appreciate this.
He sighed gustily, and switched to Plan B: thrashing wildly and hoping nobody noticed.
