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01-22-2017, 09:10 PM
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Birdsong was here, and the snow was finally melting. Though she was prone to a perpetual moodiness, even Sheba’s spirits were lighter than usual: with the thaw would come her path out of here, and soon she would be on her way back to the caves she called home. Back to the darkness of her little nook, to sleeping indoors on her mossy bed, back to her torches and pebble trails and blessed privacy…Frostfall couldn’t vanish fast enough. Of course, Helovia may have gone to hell in the past day, but what did she know (or really, what did she care) about that? It was all politics to her, and as far as Sheba was concerned, the greater workings of this land were something that she held little interest in unless they held any direct consequences for her. Besides, what difference did it make: hadn’t she already been living in her own personal hell (for, what was it? three years now?) so kindly custom-made for her by one of the very gods who’d let it all happen anyway? If she had known of the chaos that reigned outside of her secluded grove, perhaps she even would have smirked: so nice of them to join her down here, at rock bottom—pull up a patch of moss, cherie, and get comfortable. Might as well; she’d learned that much. A clump of snow slid down a willow frond and landed with an icy plop! on her rump, jerking her rudely from her thoughts and eliciting an exasperated squeal. Flicking her tail in irritation, she edged away from the offending tree and waded through the mud to the next tender patch of baby grass, lips curling back to better grip the delicate shoots. The old mare sighed, the emotion behind the heavy exhale indecipherable. Soon, she told herself, soon. |
for @Bathsheba c:
Please tag Sheba in all posts!
