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08-01-2016, 01:46 PM
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She has taken his words in hand and let her mind work over them, thinking over the possibilities of what she could experience and gain out of leaving the Dragon's Throat for nothing more than a day or two at most, just to see what one place is like. They seemed to have needed her a lot more this season. Two sets of twins, new healers to teach, the constant hunting of herbs in the desert for their use in combatting the harshness of the Sun. But she can treat herself, can't she? Hobgoblin assures her that self-indulgence is welcome, something that he near constantly takes part without thought of him. She wonders for some time what he would be like if he was like her, but the thought dies out soon. Hobgoblin is meant to be what he is, and the idea of him as something else near is sinful. Standing at the gates of the north, looking out into what will turn into a vibrant abyss of grass and wildflowers, light clouds in blue skies with a sun that doesn't scrouch, and later, a display of beauty in their heads with the stars, corralled and captured by both sea and mountain, she is at a halt in her journey. Both of them lack wings these days. Hobgoblin cannot leap into the skies and fly off to figure out where what they were told about is, and there is obviously no one to ask directions from. Pink hues are starting to invade the sky by the time that their persistance to discover pays off. Stones have grinded down her hooves through her stumbling, and the occasional complaint of hurting paws swifting pours from her brother. The grass rubbing along her legs is a welcome relief, dipping horned skull into their climbing masses to bite and tear, a low hum of pleasure as the taste is sweet and soft. Hobgoblin breaks his body apart and rebuilds it anew within seconds that she doesn't care to pay attention in. Her knees are asking for relief, her head is tired and the dark of night is starting to feel comforting as it draws in. Stars are peppering overhead, and she can't help but question if they're far north enough to see the lights. A sigh heaves from her chest when she finally strikes ground, sinking. OOC: Hobgoblin is in his Wendigo form. En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie. |
@Zèklè we talked about them meeting in a plot thread a while back ago so here's the (delayed)thread if you're still up for it!
you were angels,
so much more than everything
:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed
