the Rift


A Pocket Full of Blossoms

Akeli Posts: 13
Outcast
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16hh :: 2 Seasons (Ages in Birdsong)
Gremlin :: Common Genet :: None Noella
#1
akeli
Dusk has fallen, and through the forest darkness creeps. The trees grow long in their shadows, their darkened silhouettes pressed against fresh snow. The canopy is like erratic lace, boughs bare of leaves and branches intertwining in their nakedness. The snow has finally stopped falling, and in the storm's wake, a frigid chill settles in for a long night. Birds have cozied into their nests, hidden away within the nooks of the trees, hiding from night's dark embrace and the round eyes of hunting owls. 

Above the canopy, a shadow approaches. It's gliding form is dark against the dreary greys of the cloudy sky, appearing to grow larger as it lowers in altitude. Keen eyes look for an opening in the wooded wall separating sky from earth. Captured in those eyes is sunlight, golden pools flicking left to right in their search. 

She finds her access, and wings partially fold as the creature plummets. Her silhouette seems to grow smaller, her profile narrowing, as she dips below the tree line. Wings snap open to their full potential as she captures beneath them a pocket of air, allowing her to land softly, gently, in a small drift of white. Wings shake, blackened primaries loosening the snow that has accumulated on feathers that gradually shift to grey and white, before they fold neatly to either side. Her dark mane is wind tossed, and for a moment she regrets her aging form, missing the cropped mane that comes with childhood before it is long enough to tangle in knots and curls. 

She steps forward on long legs, easily maneuvering through the light snow. In her mouth she holds several twigs, the driest she could find. Those golden eyes search still, looking for tracks covered an hour ago by the last throes of snowfall. But the girl is smarter than that, knowing footsteps are easily lost to the elements, and as she catches a worn and gouged piece of bark ahead she is thankful for the antlers that crown her sculpted head. She has marked these trees knowing she would lose her trail in the snow, and follows her breadcrumbs deeper into the forest until the canopy is nearly too thick to see the Frostfall sky, and the ground has been spared much of the snow due to the cover. Within the small grove, a pile of tinder has been collected, contained by four stones the girl had laboriously found and moved. 

Dropping her bundle, the girl looks around. She is small, she is young, she is not versed in battle. She does not know what lurks within this wood, and fears the teeth and claws that may lurk, waiting to claim her flesh for a meal to calm growling stomaches caused by the barren season. She knows not who this land belongs to either, and as the sky grows darker she worries her trespassing may be taken harshly. Still, she dares not to travel farther under the cloak of night. Instead she stays put, knowing this small haven bare of most snow and ice will make a comfortable sleeping place until dawn reclaims the world.

Upon a velveteen tine of her antler is a piece of flint, secured by a silken tie. Dipping he head low, she strikes the ashen stone upon one of the rocks - one, two, three times- and a small spray of sparks burst into the kindling, alighting the brush with glowing tongues of flame. The fire is not large, but enough to warm her body and provide enough glow to light the clearing in pallid yellows and oranges. 

In the light, her coloration is muddied by the fiery hues. But a passerby could still discern her markings, see the grey dapple that spill across her lean frame, marvel at the patchwork of white that stain her left front leg from shoulder to hoof, matching the splatters of paint that mar her rump, side, and neck. White in some length coat each long leg except for the rear right. One wing is white, the other grey, but both share black trimmings. She is beautiful, despite her youth, and in time she will fill out, but for now her innocence radiates from lanky legs and lean muscles. 

She looks into the flames, embers floating skywards, trying to interpret the dancing flares. Perhaps someday she will be successful in divining from flames, but for now she busies herself in her work, too nervous to sleep, not brave enough to fall asleep and allow the haunts of this forest to happen upon her unexpectedly. For a moment, she believes to see the face of her grandmother in the flames, and the crackling of the fire seems to whisper her name.

Akeli. 

_______________________
"Talk."
With grace in her heart,
& flowers in her hair
image credits
[Image: _gift__akeli_pixel_by_abbie1234-d9po0qh_zps6qympgzb.png]
Please tag Akeli in all posts || Permission for magic and force at all times, except in cases of permanent injury or death.


Messages In This Thread
A Pocket Full of Blossoms - by Akeli - 02-16-2016, 09:17 PM
RE: A Pocket Full of Blossoms - by Murtagh - 02-16-2016, 10:03 PM
RE: A Pocket Full of Blossoms - by Milo - 02-18-2016, 07:00 PM
RE: A Pocket Full of Blossoms - by Kaj - 02-25-2016, 06:36 PM
RE: A Pocket Full of Blossoms - by Akeli - 03-15-2016, 09:15 PM
RE: A Pocket Full of Blossoms - by Murtagh - 03-30-2016, 05:50 PM
RE: A Pocket Full of Blossoms - by Milo - 04-01-2016, 09:14 PM
RE: A Pocket Full of Blossoms - by Akeli - 04-17-2016, 01:15 PM
RE: A Pocket Full of Blossoms - by Kaj - 04-19-2016, 05:09 PM

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