the Rift


[OPEN] Counting on the Night for a Beautiful Day

Själ Posts: 112
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.0 hh :: 4 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Ansgar :: Plain Griffin :: Draining Clutch ChaoticMelodies
#3
Själ
"Do you feel alone?"

How did she know?

The princess had heard the newcomer's hoofbeats, an ear flicking back as much to acknowledge the mare's existence as to keep her location in mind. Själ had no way of knowing if the stranger was friendly, and she was quickly becoming a mare not particularly taken with chance. A glance behind her revealed a darkly colored equine (grey or black? -- it was so hard to tell sometimes) with a skull of white highlighting her face. Her eyes were red, almost seeming to glow in the dim light of Frostfall. A thick mane and tail graced her body, a mixture of black and white. They might have been related, if one were to take into account only their appearance, for not only were they similarly colored, but the princess could detect a hint of draft blood in the stranger's lineage.

She hoped that they weren't related. She'd had about all she could stand of family.

The amber gaze of the princess retreated to the pond as she mulled over the question that the stranger had presented. Alone, always alone - that was her in a nutshell, wasn't it? No matter what she did, she always ended up alone. She had loved her mother, despite her obvious insanity, and mother had left, only to be murdered. She had found friends here, Zèklè, for one, but where were they now? They always disappeared to be run into at a later date, to greet her cheerfully and act like her dearest friend, but then - poof - like magic - they were gone. And she was alone.

She was tired of it, really. How long could she be expected to just press on by herself? It was she and Ansgar against the world, and as much as she loved her companion, she wanted more out of life than whatever this dull existence was. "Always," she admitted, a sigh, a murmur against the Frostfall air. A puff of vapor erupted from her mouth, only to disperse into the air. It was poetic, almost, a perfect visual for the way the princess had gone through life: there and then gone, never to be missed.

"Talk."
--Ansgar.--
Själ


@Nymeria

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Messages In This Thread
RE: Counting on the Night for a Beautiful Day - by Själ - 03-23-2016, 09:23 PM

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