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10-27-2015, 07:40 PM
Aelin Dreams paint the sky in the brightest colours. They are the dreams of crimson, gold, ivory and violets. Mixing together and creating the most beautiful colour show known to none but the Dreamwalker.
The stare that held Aelin in place was intense, the girl had continued to back away from the staring mare. Yet in many ways the girl felt as if she couldn't put enough distance between herself and the wild creeping, yet she was courious as to how (and why) the mare knew who she was. Why the mare was so excited to see her when aside from the odd journey, he sandy girl hardly ever left The Throat. Agin the girl studied the mare, the lighter coat that blended into darker legs and face. The wild hair that clashed against the mare's body and the sky blue eyes that strongly reminded her of Hawke and her father. Around her the dust motes and sand gathered and swirled - the effect of her passive magic. While the tree that shaded her bled it's colour into the world, the little girl was small but she effected the world in ways that others could sometimes hardly even comprehend. The mare sighed and blew the white forelock out of her eyes, making the young girl feel as if she'd disappointed the mare somehow. As the mare spoke again it was in a language she neither knew or understood, frowning the girl simply waited in silence. Finally a name was given, and Aelin critically pondered on the unusual name until the information that this strange mare was her sister brought her rudely back to the present. The first born of her mother and father, a sister - no her sister that she'd never met? Suspicion filled the sandy girl, why would she never be introduced to this mare if she was a sister? "If you're my sister," Aelin stepped a little closer to the mare. "Why have we never met before?" So far out of all of her siblings she'd only met Rhoa and of course she and Hawke were attached at the hip. "Why haven't you been around?" After all the little girl had never even seen this mare before. If she was a daughter of Gaucho and Sohalia she would have been in The Throat, she should live here. Right? Perhaps the little girl was being rude, but often her curiosity took over and the need to be polite came in second place. "You're a little strange." The filly finally remarked. Perhaps the pot was calling the kettle black but everyone adores a hypocrite. For only she can see the beauty of true desires.
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I guess jealousy's the curse that the struggle inspires.
☀ Force and magic permitted. ☀
☀ No fatal or permanent damage. ☀
☀ Please only tag in opening posts. ☀
☀ Force and magic permitted. ☀
☀ No fatal or permanent damage. ☀
☀ Please only tag in opening posts. ☀
