.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
WHAT WAS THAT? One minute, she’d been shuffling along, trying to find the wall, and the next, someone—or something—had approached her out of the blackness. It had felt like a warm nose at first, but no sooner had it pressed against her cheek than its owner had ricocheted backwards. There had been flashes of blue light that had cut through the darkness, sizzling into her retinas, and if she hadn’t felt entirely blind before, Nasreen did now. Had something grabbed the creature that had touched her?
“Who goes there?” boomed a masculine voice, quite close to her trembling ears. If she thought that she would have any hope of escaping, she would not have answered, but as it were, she was already quite hopelessly in this stranger’s clutches. “Don’t hurt me, please!” she pleaded, wings shielding her face. “It’s just me…Nasreen.” She paused, waiting with bated breath to hear what whoever had caught her would have to say. She debated confessing the fact that she was utterly lost, but down here in the darkness, the princess was learning that trust was a precious thing indeed.
However, she hasn’t been attacked…yet. Wings slowly part. In the light, they would have revealed her duo-tone face and clear grey eyes, and her velvety muzzle drawn with worry. In the dark, the stranger is little likely to see her quaking copper and pearl body, the once-luxurious mane and tail now sticking every which way from her flight into the earth, or the magnificent wings, which used to send her joyfully into the clouds, now bound to her sides. He probably will not be able to make out the lithe figure of the princess, and he won’t know that the way she carries herself is reminiscent of her mother. But he can hear her, and she makes every effort to keep the tremor from her voice when she casts a question of her own out into the darkness: “Who are you?”
@[Hawkeye]
“Who goes there?” boomed a masculine voice, quite close to her trembling ears. If she thought that she would have any hope of escaping, she would not have answered, but as it were, she was already quite hopelessly in this stranger’s clutches. “Don’t hurt me, please!” she pleaded, wings shielding her face. “It’s just me…Nasreen.” She paused, waiting with bated breath to hear what whoever had caught her would have to say. She debated confessing the fact that she was utterly lost, but down here in the darkness, the princess was learning that trust was a precious thing indeed.
However, she hasn’t been attacked…yet. Wings slowly part. In the light, they would have revealed her duo-tone face and clear grey eyes, and her velvety muzzle drawn with worry. In the dark, the stranger is little likely to see her quaking copper and pearl body, the once-luxurious mane and tail now sticking every which way from her flight into the earth, or the magnificent wings, which used to send her joyfully into the clouds, now bound to her sides. He probably will not be able to make out the lithe figure of the princess, and he won’t know that the way she carries herself is reminiscent of her mother. But he can hear her, and she makes every effort to keep the tremor from her voice when she casts a question of her own out into the darkness: “Who are you?”
@[Hawkeye]
Please do not tag Nasreen except for in opening posts and in spars!
