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11-26-2015, 01:30 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-13-2015, 10:35 PM by Nymeria.
Edit Reason: Tagging as reminder <3
)
There was a girl on the beach.
Somehow the world seemed livelier around the delicate girl, in a way Nymeria couldn’t quite place. The already vibrant world was brighter, radioactively so—the sea, aquamarine and turquoise, shone with astounding blue and green, and the red, red sand simmered with unseen heat.
The girl should’ve looked like dust and toil with her dull-hued coat, but she gleamed like a shaft of sunlight. Tiny sparkles shone in a varied and incandescent pattern along her slim flanks, complimented by dark barring and deep red locks. Her wings dripped seawater; left behind by her hooves was a trail of crescent-moon tracks, wending down along the sea.
Nymeria exhaled softly, red eyes flicking away towards the wide expanse of the ocean. Far out in the distance she could make out Lilómiel’s streamlined form, soaring over the foam-crested waves; from here, with the slap of sea on sand, his thoughts cloaked by sound and distance from her, she almost felt alone. It was a strange and empty feeling—and a fearful one. Instinctively, her mind reached out to seek the chain of communication binding them. With the firm touch of his mind on hers and the gentle caress of his abashed concern, she breathed a little easier.
She returned her attention back to the girl in the distance. There was something familiar to her build, her color, but Nym couldn’t quite place it. Don’t know, Lil echoed, his voice a slurred growl in her head. A hazy shrug rippled down her body; she wandered a little nearer to the stranger.
It was a bizarre sensation to be older than someone, Nym mused; the filly was only a filly, and Nymeria was somehow a mare now. The time had passed so rapidly from her youth to adulthood, and still she drifted the barren wilds, alone but for Lilómiel’s companionship. It was difficult to think about her actual age in comparison to what she had felt, what she had experienced; her world was a small place, occupied by and large by herself. And yet she does not feel lonely, persay; merely… alone.
She didn’t know how to describe it better than that.
The woman lowered her head, letting her ears slide and tip forward casually, robust hips swinging idly. She procures an air of casual friendliness, easy confidence, wishing not to intimidate or frighten despite the ominous warning painted upon her head.
Out over the sound of the sea she calls, “hello!”
Somehow the world seemed livelier around the delicate girl, in a way Nymeria couldn’t quite place. The already vibrant world was brighter, radioactively so—the sea, aquamarine and turquoise, shone with astounding blue and green, and the red, red sand simmered with unseen heat.
The girl should’ve looked like dust and toil with her dull-hued coat, but she gleamed like a shaft of sunlight. Tiny sparkles shone in a varied and incandescent pattern along her slim flanks, complimented by dark barring and deep red locks. Her wings dripped seawater; left behind by her hooves was a trail of crescent-moon tracks, wending down along the sea.
Nymeria exhaled softly, red eyes flicking away towards the wide expanse of the ocean. Far out in the distance she could make out Lilómiel’s streamlined form, soaring over the foam-crested waves; from here, with the slap of sea on sand, his thoughts cloaked by sound and distance from her, she almost felt alone. It was a strange and empty feeling—and a fearful one. Instinctively, her mind reached out to seek the chain of communication binding them. With the firm touch of his mind on hers and the gentle caress of his abashed concern, she breathed a little easier.
She returned her attention back to the girl in the distance. There was something familiar to her build, her color, but Nym couldn’t quite place it. Don’t know, Lil echoed, his voice a slurred growl in her head. A hazy shrug rippled down her body; she wandered a little nearer to the stranger.
It was a bizarre sensation to be older than someone, Nym mused; the filly was only a filly, and Nymeria was somehow a mare now. The time had passed so rapidly from her youth to adulthood, and still she drifted the barren wilds, alone but for Lilómiel’s companionship. It was difficult to think about her actual age in comparison to what she had felt, what she had experienced; her world was a small place, occupied by and large by herself. And yet she does not feel lonely, persay; merely… alone.
She didn’t know how to describe it better than that.
The woman lowered her head, letting her ears slide and tip forward casually, robust hips swinging idly. She procures an air of casual friendliness, easy confidence, wishing not to intimidate or frighten despite the ominous warning painted upon her head.
Out over the sound of the sea she calls, “hello!”
@Aelin
Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions
