Rain littered the open earth from dark Orangemoon skies, the moon disappearing and reappearing between black and grey clouds. The cool water dripped down my long antlers, beading into eachother and following the ridges of bone down like a slide until they dewed up in my now glossy, cleaned out forelock. From there, they slipped down my long snout, following the strange pattern of white hairs until they collected and dripped off of my dark lips. Something had happened in the Marshes, and what it had been, I'm not sure, but Seele had hit the nail right on the fucking head when she told us that it was no longer safe. Dark lips tugged up, a giggle slipping from my throat and slapping the wet earth with a dull thud "How right you were." my left ear twitches while I speak, sending a dew droplet of water sailing through the air.

Makeshift shadows and unlikely occurrences had been happening, though I had not had time to see anything myself, I had gathered enough information to imagine the contorted and battered bodies of the swamps crawling from the depths of their water caskets to feed upon the living. Real life zombies who's eyes had either rotted or been eaten out of their skulls, leaving loose flesh to sag along the frame of their expired bodies. A chill ran it's imaginary finger up the length of my spine, causing my entire body to shutter under the cold.

From behind me I could hear the high river washing away at the sidewalls of the banks, chewing away at the mixture of bedrock and compact dirt. I stand not far from the fork in the river, where the long fingers slow out and narrow somewhere further into the Meadow as streams rather than mad river water. Antlered skull pulls over my right shoulder, staring with violet eyes into the darkness that pulls over the vast field. Green shoots of healthy grass tickles at my knees, swaying every great once in a while with the soft kiss of a breeze, just enough to play with loose hairs in my silky mane and tail.

I have been able to scratch the layer of mud off of my body by rubbing along the massive amount of trees in our new home.. in the Deep Forest. The swamps did rather disgust me, the amount of hungry flies and curious dead eyes making it even worse, but the forest seems to stretch on, and we do not know it as we had known the marsh. What if something similar is happening in the Forest and we just have not stumbled upon it yet? My bottom lip quivers at the rapidly building concern for my family.

Purple pools follow the direction of my cranium as I pull my face back forward and into my chest, ears both twitching before pulling backward so the rain could not dabble the fine hairs inside. A soft sigh is expelled from my chest, the air not yet cold enough to present a cloud of hot steam. Creamy white tail flicks once to the left, wrapping around my ankle in the end, unraveling with another snap to the right before it falls back down to brush the clean vegetation.

Tagged: Open, raid it!
"Speak." Walk walk

Autumnal gusts steadily hug thistle heads as the moon blinks between misting clouds. The world willfully grows colder as Orangemoon begins to pulse. Treetops sit like an eternal flame, taking the misty weather without a sizzling complaint. It's quietly serene. With distance like the moon of autumn to Earth, Feuille moves again, finding the fire-rise woodlands to contain her in their dusky grasp. She finds that the Thistle Meadow isn't much more appealing, as the soggy footing claims the cleanliness of her socks and mud seeps into her thickening coat and squelches as her lithe gait continues. But yet again solitude claims her while darkness encases Helovia.

Feuille finds her golden rings clinking in her ears as the wind catches in their loops and her tail follows from between her legs. Her mane dances with the moonlit grasses. She hums, with her delicate soprano as words of no meaning float from sugar-white lips. Orange eyes linger out into the darkness, glazing over as her pupils widen to catch silver light on the grass tips. Perhaps it is better that she let her legs take her. Perhaps it's all she knows to do.

She adapts to the beads of water on her eyelashes, finding aquatic solace in their cool grip. She breathes in the night's humidity, feeling the heaviness of raindrops in her chest. Feuille moves more and more slowly, finding the dense forest lost in burning thoughts.

Orange eyes, wet with dewy rain watch out ahead and she quietly moves. But one glassy flick reveals the glow of silvery strands and the dim outline of dripping horns. The lithe mare halts, tail lifting in the twilight breeze, ears pricking upwards – earrings softly clattering in the night. She inhales by instinct, smelling the faint tastes of ancient unicorn coated by heavy rainwater. Feuille approaches, the withered grass soggily sounding beneath her feet. She features a soft wicker, voice somehow carrying through the patter of rainfall. She aims to step into the mare's sight from behind, tossing her wet forelock all the while, a smile brightening her moonlit face.

Feuille