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03-23-2016, 02:55 AM
| The Threshold opens up before him, a great expanse of trees, but not the thick trees of home, where you could not see in front of your nose and the only paths you had were the well trodden trails that had been forged many years ago. This forest was easy to navigate, and Azarias did so with a slow and deliberate ease, winding through the shadowed tree trunks without much care to where he was headed. There was an air about this forest, and although it was not peaceful its affect was calming. So calming, it seemed to almost say "relax, for you are here", and very briefly Azarias forgot that he had no idea where here actually was. He was too caught up in watching the leaves brush rhythmically against each other in the breeze, which had a cold chill to it. Azarias was born and raised in the scrubland around his father's jungle. Khan had liked the hot humidity of his rain forest, Effiye preferred the open space and unrelentless sun. Azarias had no love for either, and so he finds this winter chill most welcome, and in the protection of this forest he did not feel too cold before. He is like the bright blast of summer sun in winters grasp, against the black and brown and green, he stands oddly out of place. It is undeniable that winter was not meant to be in his blood, the blood of his forefathers. The sun stallion pauses, ears twitching atop his raised head, and there he stays, solitary and alert. “talking will go here” azarias of no where |
my apologies for the terrible first post!
