| Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Glo |
02-20-2014, 02:18 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-20-2014, 07:31 PM by Roland.)
They had once lived in a palace, carved of ice and the very essence of winter, built upon pillars of windswept stone and perched atop the crests of snowy peaks. Over its turrets had risen the sun and moon, pouring their light over the crowns of mountains and across the frozen waters. Wind howled through the crags and swept the snow across its estate in savage tides, and in the midst of it all the world was rarely still. The tempests were its heartbeat, thumping noisily against the walls of caves and fragile pillars of ice. There was never a chance to wonder if time had stopped, or if the earth had disappeared beneath your feet.
The underground hummed with a different kind of life, but just distantly, gingerly, and silence reigned with an iron fist. Roland might have escaped a cruel end at the hands of the wraiths, but he had sunken himself into the depths of a different kind of danger. The caves were confounding and complex, a labyrinth comprised of a million dead ends and just as many endless channels. He tread ever so gently across its canvas, sedate and solemn.
What a welcome change to the atmosphere it was when a familiar face appeared, bright and charismatic as ever. He admired Lena’s sureness, her defiance, her refusal to be extinguished by the uncertainty and ambivalence running rampant through the dark. Through the stale air, the doldrums and the shadows she still burned brightly, still cast a glow upon his golden hide and the gloom encircling them, ever helpful, happy, and inspiring to his wearied mind. And so, in her shade, he refused to allow himself to feel the negativity that so naturally lounged about his mind. He might still have longed for the sun every second it orbited out of reach, but her rapture was contagious. There was no use pining for what he couldn’t have when instead he could immerse himself in the underworld they had taken refuge in.
Invitation gladly accepted, he followed her into the depths of the luminous thicket with a smile and a lighter heart, pausing once to inspect the vines that leisurely stretched their arms towards the ground, and a second time to admire the way the way the green lights reflected across his gilded hide, as vain as he had ever been. “Have you seen much of the underground?” He asked as he sauntered in her wake, eyes drifting over the boughs of luminous trees and the flowers blooming amongst the moss. He himself had not been busy. Many idle hours had been wiled away in the sanctuary, for there was little to gain from ancient passageways and the stories sewn into their weathered fabrics when deception was your craft.
@[Lena]
Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.
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Image Credit
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