the Rift


a glaziers pace (crafting glass, open)

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#2
[Image: winter_snow_by_ladyfey-d5g626q.png]


Tor did not want to appear a stalker. Not at all. But she felt awkwardly enough she was stalking him. Did following him constitute as stalking? She wasn't... collecting his hair or anything. Ohmygosh. But she had found herself coming after him again, for reasons she wasn't sure of. Hadn't rejection made her feel guilty or sad at least? And you know... walking after him on a cold night didn't appear very... un-stalkerly. Dear me, not only had her feet found herself ghosting through the Edge's forest, but she had come to a halt in a sheltered glen, where pink and white petals ran their silky hands through her mane and rested on her broad back.

And there was the stallion the ghost had been haunting. (No I haven't! I'm sorry, that was Tor snatching away my keyboard.) He seemed entranced, pulled into the water of the pool of ink scattered with handfuls of glistening white stars. Unease gnawed at Tor's stomach, worry. It looked almost as if... as if there was a haunting being under the water, cooing his ears, a kelpie come to seduce him only to drown him. She wanted to say something, wanted to interrupt his silent ceremony that echoed chillingly in her brown eyes.

The stars began to shine brighter, but darkness, roiling darkness, gathered around the one her heart went out to. Her intuition was crying to leave this place. It wasn't natural to be here, in this sacred place. Everything in her screamed to run, but she stayed unmoving, eyes watching. What was he making? She was prickling and she sneezed, loudly, interrupting the peace, or the deadly silence, that had been suffocating her. Her skin itched, her pelt crawled. It was too silent, too dark, too... chillingly haunting. The moon glittered on the spring, a glittering white disk spun of sugar. Leave this place! Her instincts tried to tell her in vain once more. But leave she did not, and so she observed with eyes used to taking in desperate situations within one beat of her heart.


"talk talk talk"
move move move
think think think




WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.


Messages In This Thread
a glaziers pace (crafting glass, open) - by Lace - 12-10-2012, 07:59 PM
RE: a glaziers pace (crafting glass, open) - by Tor - 12-10-2012, 08:13 PM

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