| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE |
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Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow
Nyte |
05-27-2014, 11:25 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-27-2014, 11:37 AM by Bellona.)
A bone shatters, fall apart and hit the floor
If it doesn't thrill you it doesn't matter any more
</style>
Sunlight cascaded downwards from the budding pink canopy that obscured the maiden's view of the sky. Her heart longed to break free from the shackles that travelling afoot has trapped her in, but the instruments resting at her sides are far too fatigued to attempt an escape. The peahen's journey from this very wood to the lands of her past had been arduous enough, and her distress at finding only the bones of her late tribe and the residence of man had struck the final blow.
Her discovery had allowed for rage to seep into her blood like poison, and she had unleashed her fury on anything that had been in close proximity to her.
She breathed deeply at the memory, drawing in the scent of redwood and oak through her naves. If the mare thought hard enough, she could almost smell the blood of the men she had slain. She shivered with pleasure from the memory of the hunt.
It was fortunate that the gods had blessed her with a cunning mind, for her thoughts had quickly morphed into something far more useful: retribution.
The ache in her striped pillars was no match for the force of her ambition, and the lady warrior kept up a grueling pace by sheer willpower. There was too much at stake, and especially now that she was the sole survivor of the war that had butchered her tribe. Unlike others who would rather sit idle and rejoin their family in death, the Azteca was prepared to fight to her last breath to keep their legacy alive.
With the taste of her enemies' flesh still on her lips, the maiden had remembered a land where equines seemed to breed with all sorts of other creatures. Her memories of the wolf and the glowing trees were still afresh after all these moons, and her annoyance with the striped one would breach the surface whenever she thought of their tree-lit gathering.
There had been a purple vixen there as well, but none of her peculiar company had left such a powerful brand on her mind as the stallion and his winged beast. It was his offer that had wedged itself so deeply inside her cranium, and it was the very idea of his words that had made the peahen fly westwards so fervently. Where once she had been forced to flee, she would now make her return. Perhaps with she as a vessel, the traditions of her old land could thrive in this new one.
Pale orange eyes caught hold of the towering redwoods that marked the end of her travels, and the warrior noted that these trees were dull in comparison to the ones that she had encountered before. She couldn't care less about the assortment of foliage one could find in this land, but what she did care about was the unnerving truth behind the change of scenery. Even when life had ceased to persist in Arto, it had gone on everywhere else.
The tribe did not sacrifice their lives so that you could waste yours. You owe it to them to survive.
And with those words resonating between her audits, the chieftess passed through the entrance, leaving her tribe behind but never forgetting their legacy.
"blah blah blah."
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mac4creativePeople @ flickr.com
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Permission granted for physical harassment!
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16 HH :: 5 years ~ Birdsong Buff: NOVICE |
| Wild. |
Flame and white pelt hides in the shelter of the trees, dual colored orbs lingering the earth, the sky, the branches, any kind of entertainment. And just as she is about to move her perfectly still bodice, colors flash before her, and a beautifully colored mare, winged, with a cape of beautiful feathers hovering over her back, starting at her whither. She is like a mosaic, different colored tiles shattered, then glued together, different colors, different shapes, different hues, blending together to create one masterpiece. The child marvels for a moment in the lady's glory, almost having to snap her jaw shut as it begins to gape. The bird horse is surely a show stopper, but defiantly, odd.
The child steps from her small cluster of trees, a small slope reaches down onto the path in which the bird girl walks, her feathers bouncing as she does so. Having to high step awkwardly over a clump of brambles, she soon steadies herself on flat ground, facing the dove. She lets out a friendly nicker, a warm smile spreading across her kissers. "Greetings, beautiful miss!" She calls, her voice now maturing, turning to a more raspy, but sing-song tone. Like a country hymn. It's tones ring throughout the forest that is filled with voices and scents. The child bows her dome in respect, missing the way her faux horn used to weigh down her dome. But in some ways, she feels a bit more free, a bit more safe? Well, she definitely doesn't have to worry about getting made fun of, that's for sure. "I'm Abishia, Artisan of the Hidden Falls!"
"blah blah blah."
@[Bellona]
*tosses abi into thread*
ABISHIA
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| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE |
|
Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow
Nyte |
05-28-2014, 10:03 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-29-2014, 10:49 PM by Bellona.)
A bone shatters, fall apart and hit the floor
If it doesn't thrill you it doesn't matter any more</style>
Well. That wasn't very dramatic.
The thoughts are as blunt as the spoken word, and a sigh slips past the peahen's iridescent lips. Her mood has shifted from determined to annoyed, and her desire to find the wolf is heightened as she forces her colorful form past the entrance. The mare has reached her goal at last, yet now that she is here, she does not feel any sense of accomplishment for fulfilling her promise to her tribe. All she feels is tired.
The warrior's usual fluid gait has reduced to a lilt, and her porcelain naves quiver with every breath she takes. Veins spread across her hide like the cracks in the dry earth underfoot. The wings that grant her flight hang loosely at her sides, and even the beautiful feathers at her wither wilt as if they are dead. She is the very image of exhausted, and she is not ashamed to look the part. At least not until the red and white filly parades into view.
Almost as soon as the child speaks, the mare has lost her patience with her. Her fatigue cannot compare to the annoyance that sparks in her breast when the equine's enthusiastic introduction stabs at her ears. As fierce of a woman as she is, the peahen has never yearned for a child of her own. If it had been her choice at birth to choose a sex, she would have chosen to be born male. The life of a bachelor suits her much better than the life of a maiden; her desire for violence and war is far greater than any desire for romance or motherhood.
It was because of her distaste for children that she does not halt to return the greeting, but instead to relieve her legs. A long pause ensues after the arabian's words fill the air, and the elder doe extends the silence by preening the feathers of one wing. Her comfort is her number one priority, and she really doesn't care if she offends the girl or not, and as if to stress that point the peahen plucks out a blue feather and spits it on the ground. She watches the delicate object drift slowly downwards before speaking.
"My name is Bellona, of Arto. I have not heard of your hiding falls, but have you heard of my wolf boy?" Amusement flashes briefly across her orange eyes, but the look is soon replaced by a cunning glare. What the wicked fae had intended to be a taunt has instantly become a bargaining chip, and she adds on in a sugar-sweet, lilting tone, "Would you like that? That feather? I'll give it to you, if you help me find my wolf."
The warrior struggles to remember other identifying features about him, lashing at the earth with a dark hoof as she does so. Pain lances up her marked leg at the same instance as the wolf's promise fills her mind.
"He had a dragon, and he came from a place known as the Foothills. Can you take me to him?"
"blah blah blah."
@[Abishia]
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mac4creativePeople @ flickr.com
Thank you Vossity <3
Please tag me each post!
Permission granted for physical harassment!
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