pillars bring her across the earth, through the water that has turned into mists in the air and touches her apparel with drops of morning dew, morning without the warmth of the sun, morning without light. and so the question must be asked, if morning has lacked its light, is it still morning? is a winged bird still a bird of flight if it has lost it's wings? if there is no sun, is it reasonably to assume mornings have passed, as well? the darkened equine muses her thoughts in her head as she steps with careful strides across rocky soil, she has walked for a long time, ages, even, perhaps centuries? it is hard to tell, when the mists are eternal and mystical, when they obscure the vision so that you are transported to that of another world, another universe, one that does not have time, where objects are made from imagination alone. rocks can become monsters, appear against your flesh and rip at your apparel. but no monster has crossed her path today, no war demon to stab with her sword. she trusts her hooves to bring her out of this world, as they have brought her in. and they do. slowly, her maw comes out into fresh air, she breathes, deep, soft, and exhales. the droplets on her apparel are a array of colours, they breathe the world from a opposite angle. they gather on her long lashes and in them, hold the constellations of the clear oceans above, speckled as a birds egg with pinpricks of icy white. her pillars bring her bodice into the moonlight, unto the sweet grass that begs her for a bite, a small nibble. but she is not here to laze around, tonight she plans nothing good. tonight she plans to play a game, where she is the creator. she is searching for her quarry, as a wolf prowls for the kill. and she is going to find them. @[Castiel] CREDITS
VENOMXBABY : MIDNIGHTSTOUCHSTOCK |
[PRIVATE] we're painted red
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we're painted red - by Circuta - 09-13-2013, 12:36 PM
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