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11-26-2015, 12:35 PM
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The Threshold. Her mind whispers to herself and to Phrixus, who flies above in swift zigzags ahead of the jogging unicorn. They move move with near silence amongst the hardwoods and emerald carpet. The path is worn down into the earth, almost sunken in, lined with soft green moss and curled oaken roots. She navigates the terrain beautifully, with utmost familiarity, she knows this territory like the scars across her marbled hide and her feathered companion knows their skies just as well. Open and blue, the bird some how disappearing into the cerulean mass as he floats over the tree tops. Their arrival is unceremonious, quiet and subtle. The breeze kisses the pale unicorn's pink nose, bringing to her nostrils a sweet, perfumed smell. A woman. Ah, what luck. First try and she smell's a loner. Go see, love. She does not have to look at Phrixus when the thought finds him, she knows he receives her communications clearly now. The is much stronger at his high elevations and as he climbs he fights the lean of the strong winds and their thick currents flowing to the Northeast. It doesn't take him long at all to find her tan skin and white tasseled tail. She is in fact alone and the images are projected back to Tangere. She is already traveling toward them, the loud purrs and cooing of Phrixus to guide her. It takes her no time at all and when she pours into the small thicket the pale bird is clutching her withers. “NO!” She's sure she has been detected already but if not certainly her screams would betray her approach. “Those will char your insides, burning you slowly from the inside until you cannot possibly recover without strong magic.” She slinks toward the mare, leaving a few feet between them, a fine place to observe the lone unicorn. Phrixus keeps his hard blue eyes trained on the stranger, expressionless and focused on her every move. “Here,” She speak through a charmed grin, spinning on her heels and letting her pink lips fall down amongst the roots and fungus. “Coldtongue leaves and berries.” She offers it from her own pink lips to the mare's, a rather intimate gesture, something that goes unnoticed by the mare. She lives in close quarters with many, close to a few, being so physically close does not register as awkward for her. The berries that dangle from the long stemmed, many leafed branch are white and fat. Oblong like a funny grape. There are many amongst the heart shaped foliage, which is rough and veined, some have even started turning purple at it's tips. She speaks through the vegetation she offers. “They feel good to chew, good in the belly, ...good for you.” Borderline mumbling due to the obstruction. She offers it more insistently now. ….. [The “Coldtongue” plant is meant to be a Helovian native plant that is much like a spearmint plant. Minty is the cold feeling. The rest of it's attributes are completely fictional. I like to have fun with the plant thing.]  |
@Eldala
- You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
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