.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
THE EARTH CARRIED GLASS TOES, reinforcing the unwavering eye contact I held with the ecru mare decorated in murky points. Discovering the balanced line that divided her in half, following the trail her spine blazed through the large cuts of sinew. I awaited an answer from her, pricking my ears to the prehistoric maiden, and keeping a magnetic slant towards her in my skeleton, after I had arisen from my gesture of homage. The answer did not come from the antediluvian, but from a voice in the shadows.
From the crepuscule she emerged. A mare, towering over us insignificants, claiming age to mile long legs. Luminescent azure radiated from her viewpoints. She was crowned in aquatic skin, a surface that held tight to a liquid appearance. Trimmed in scales, the sea creature edged into the small split between trees, inserting herself into the powwow. “Helovia, generally. Specifically, you’re in the Threshold.” The mare vocalized, words broadcasting from the visionary grey base, an inkling of light peeked through the wet curves on her ribcage as air filled her lungs. “I’m Syrena, from the Hidden Falls. One of the herds here.”
The name sent my mind into a spiraling haze. A familiar word, memories of the timeworn collections of parchment my mother kept stuffed behind her apothecary books. Written on these scrolls were pieces of the world, wrapped in the skin of uninvestigated beasts. Sirens wavered into my conscious, the frothy edges of women that once bathed in the solace of the inner seas. Awakening at the sight of intruders to hum them into the flytrap of their foamy fingers. They morph the fabrication of above and below, luring sailors to a place beneath the swells.
How could this connect to the statuesque woman? Her limestone features glistened, like after a long heavy downpour. Trust or wonder? Nothing she says has been proven discredible, why would she lie about where she is, or who she hails to? Despite the roots of her alias, the overgrown rainy statuette more closely resembles friend than foe.
Close behind her, the eventide penumbra spat out another native. This one a mix between myself and the tall one. Dark in hue, her pelt appeared to be dry and created a canvas for the constellations that appear during the witching hour, which splatter across her flanks. Neighboring my height, she approached the circle. Moments ago I sang lullabies in my own solitude, I seem to have awakened the forest.
We converse, harbored in the botanical rubble, wasp-like children joining an ethereal dance below the atmosphere. “Hilde” the small crepuscular one harkened to the earliest of visitors. Muttering words in that awkward jumble of a language, I couldn’t help but feel misplaced, was there a tongue I was supposed to have known? Her and the olive-brown mare exchanged endearing genuflection, the merging of old friends perhaps. “Hello, I am Vu. Who are the two of you?” She addressed me and the oceanic woman, Syrena. Her voice followed a similarly musical tone to my own, cast out in a slightly lower pitch, yet a noise that still elongated the curves on her feminine physique.
“Syrena, Vu, and… Hildegunn. What a pleasure to meet you all. I thank you for your immediate cordiality to someone as confused as I.” I crooned, tipping my crown to the two other mares. “I am Leto, could anyone tell me more about this Helovia, or the Threshold in which we stand… and the Hidden Falls, where is that?” I pondered, remembering my childhood trips to the river across the meadow on the far side of my old village, there was a small waterfall there, childhood picnics as I watched the other kids play were bittersweet memories. Those were the days before my father had so generously crafted my feet for me. I miss him. The thought of him made me feel isolated, the only winged one, the only daughter of the sky.
@Syrena
From the crepuscule she emerged. A mare, towering over us insignificants, claiming age to mile long legs. Luminescent azure radiated from her viewpoints. She was crowned in aquatic skin, a surface that held tight to a liquid appearance. Trimmed in scales, the sea creature edged into the small split between trees, inserting herself into the powwow. “Helovia, generally. Specifically, you’re in the Threshold.” The mare vocalized, words broadcasting from the visionary grey base, an inkling of light peeked through the wet curves on her ribcage as air filled her lungs. “I’m Syrena, from the Hidden Falls. One of the herds here.”
The name sent my mind into a spiraling haze. A familiar word, memories of the timeworn collections of parchment my mother kept stuffed behind her apothecary books. Written on these scrolls were pieces of the world, wrapped in the skin of uninvestigated beasts. Sirens wavered into my conscious, the frothy edges of women that once bathed in the solace of the inner seas. Awakening at the sight of intruders to hum them into the flytrap of their foamy fingers. They morph the fabrication of above and below, luring sailors to a place beneath the swells.
How could this connect to the statuesque woman? Her limestone features glistened, like after a long heavy downpour. Trust or wonder? Nothing she says has been proven discredible, why would she lie about where she is, or who she hails to? Despite the roots of her alias, the overgrown rainy statuette more closely resembles friend than foe.
Close behind her, the eventide penumbra spat out another native. This one a mix between myself and the tall one. Dark in hue, her pelt appeared to be dry and created a canvas for the constellations that appear during the witching hour, which splatter across her flanks. Neighboring my height, she approached the circle. Moments ago I sang lullabies in my own solitude, I seem to have awakened the forest.
We converse, harbored in the botanical rubble, wasp-like children joining an ethereal dance below the atmosphere. “Hilde” the small crepuscular one harkened to the earliest of visitors. Muttering words in that awkward jumble of a language, I couldn’t help but feel misplaced, was there a tongue I was supposed to have known? Her and the olive-brown mare exchanged endearing genuflection, the merging of old friends perhaps. “Hello, I am Vu. Who are the two of you?” She addressed me and the oceanic woman, Syrena. Her voice followed a similarly musical tone to my own, cast out in a slightly lower pitch, yet a noise that still elongated the curves on her feminine physique.
“Syrena, Vu, and… Hildegunn. What a pleasure to meet you all. I thank you for your immediate cordiality to someone as confused as I.” I crooned, tipping my crown to the two other mares. “I am Leto, could anyone tell me more about this Helovia, or the Threshold in which we stand… and the Hidden Falls, where is that?” I pondered, remembering my childhood trips to the river across the meadow on the far side of my old village, there was a small waterfall there, childhood picnics as I watched the other kids play were bittersweet memories. Those were the days before my father had so generously crafted my feet for me. I miss him. The thought of him made me feel isolated, the only winged one, the only daughter of the sky.
@Syrena
