she walks in beauty, open.

she walks in beauty, open.

Yseulte Posts: 68

Hidden Account

Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 5

Itzal :: White Tiger :: Hypnotize roni

11-11-2012, 05:38 PM (This post was last modified: 11-22-2012, 04:35 PM by Yseulte.)

The morning fog was still..

Thin swirls of pale mist clung to naked branches threading through the whiteness like gnarled bones. In fact, so still was the world at this hour, Yseulte might have been the only soul with flesh and a warm beating heart. It sounded like thunder to the silvery unicorn, and she wished she could will that vulnerable organ to be silent, just like the rest of the world.

And yet it was there—steady as a war drum. Thud, thud, thud.

Her steps were so soft, so quiet, that even she, Yseulte, seemed blended with nature—her long, wild flaxen hair was the pale vanilla of the sky just before dawn, and her silver-blue skin the killing frost, hard and cold as diamonds. Her jewel-like eyes were brighter than an autumn sky—the only color not washed away by winter. Only the delicate imprints pressed into the thin snowfall hinted of her fleeting presence. The sickly sweet scent of frostbitten flowers lingered in the air.

With every step away from home and closer to the unknown, his presence faded. Faded like the colors. Faded like the vapor from her breath. Since her childhood, Yseulte had been told who she was, and what she was. The daughter of a monster, surely. Once, she believed them, as a lonely child with no friends because she was the daughter of the fire-eater. A time when she had been naïve, with eyelashes that whispered like the thrum of butterfly wings. Now, she didn’t know who she was, or why she was.

She just…was.

But they hadn't know him when his heart could be kind, and gentle. Her soft, blossom-pink lips had long since gone numb with the winter cold, but she remembered a time when he would use the fire in his veins to bring her small joys. He would warm the frozen ground beneath her hooves so that she might walk with ease through the drifts. He would not always destroy. Sometimes he would even breathe on a dead flower for her, melting the frost and showing her life beneath the surface. They were always violets.

But that was long ago, and he was long gone.

She stopped walking. Motionless, she watched the snow fall in a gentle hush, lost in the boneyard of other glittering snow-skeletons at her hooves.

ooc, I will remember how to write sooner or later, I promise.

yseulte,