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12-12-2016, 10:38 PM
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G L A S G O W
She never seemed to leave the Edge anymore. Instead, hiding herself away to do her crafting duties in the dead of night with the moon keeping watch overhead. She felt more comfortable that way, away from the scrutinizing eyes of others – away from the possibility of seeing Tilney when she really didn’t want to. At least at night she could see his lantern if he headed her way, lighting the path toward her location. For that, she was somewhat thankful. She didn’t have the energy to face anything heading her way, especially with Arah’s return, and so she stuck to the shadows and the outskirts, watching with glazed eyes and a quiet scarred mouth. It was rare for her to approach the Threshold especially. Glasgow wasn’t much one for meeting people – after all, she wouldn’t even want her face to be the first thing people saw in Helovia. Today was different though, she wasn’t sure if she was planning on leaving or just simply looking for an excuse to get away from the confines of the misty snow covered landscape. As she entered the Threshold and waltzed between the trees and fallen logs covered in a soft blanket of freshly fallen snow, she allowed her glassy gaze to dance around everything at face value looking for something – or even nothing, all the same. That was when the Glazier heard a loud crack. Halting in her steps, her scarlet stained hoof held midair as she listened, pale ears flickering toward the sound. Perhaps she could investigate, figure out what she wanted to do with the possible situation at hand, and analyze the ideas at the end. Yet, as she came to focus on the one that created the large crack, she spotted a striped stag. Her head tilted slightly, her dual horns glinting with the light, reflecting more so off of the broken one further down her forehead. She took note of the situation, spotting the man in the frozen stream and allowed her scarred eyes to dance across him briefly. “Do you need help?” She questioned into the cold air, her lips moving against the scars that protruded a blood red from each side to create a rather melancholy and gruesome smile – even when it was the last thing she felt like doing in the world. "Talk." what a strange illusion it is, to suppose that beauty is goodness |
@Valkyrie c:
