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07-20-2014, 10:21 PM
larkspur The way the parts of me, they always disagree. It's a wonder that this body doesn't break. Night walks are as much a part of Larkspur as breathing, where shadows and silence are her only company, and the darkness moves, and walks, and bends with her as she treks through the snow. Icy slivers of silver air spin and twirl up into the starlit air as she breathes, sighs, and watches the ghost-like apparitions rise and evaporate into the sky. Frost clings to the long hairs of her fetlocks, her tasseled tail, and it clings to the edges of her mane and forelock, and eye lashes too, golden eyes framed by natures glitter, her eyes lined with a rim of fine and faint ice. She revels in her solitary existence here, the deafening quiet of the tundra, the sound of her own pulse beating steadily inside her head - alive. However, Larkspur isn’t as alone as she previously thought. The call of a stranger snaps the warrior to attention, and her head snakes to the side sharply, eyes narrowed. She subconsciously cusses herself for not thinking to check if anyone was down wind of her, but she doesn’t linger on the triviality - there’s no time for it. The stranger is already approaching her across the snow, a shadow against the pristine white. If it weren’t for the distinctive scent of the Aurora Basin that accompanied the mare’s presence, Larkspur would have thought herself fallen back into the world beyond the mirror, a place full of demons and phantoms alike. As this phantom draws closer, Larkspur squares her stance, her tail waving behind her once - then twice. Gilded eyes peer from beneath their curtain of black, and Larkspur appraises the new comer as she speaks, her own expression distant and brooding. "It does no good for a dark beauty like yourself to wander alone, stranger. Perhaps you wouldn't mind some company?” As the stranger draws closer, materializing into full form in front of her from the darkness, Larkspur hesitates - there is something uncannily familiar about the young unicorn, but try as she might what glimpses of the past that taunt her refuse to show themselves completely. Typically she would have met this mare’s cheshire cat grin and mirthful spirit with a smirk and snide remark of her own, but instead she remains expressionless, preoccupied with her own thoughts. Did she know this shadow solider? Larkspur curses the Time God then, curses his damned mirror, and curses her lost memories. How many people were forgotten, how many had she lost ever since she left? Her eyes narrow again, and she tilts her head to the side, considering the creature in front of her. She is a pretty thing, young, but Larkspur is hardly a fool to dismiss her. Behind her mischievous smile she fancies something far more sinister lurking, lingering in wait. They are two shadows against the endless tundra, a land lost in perpetual winter, two gold-eyed wraiths stalking through the ice and snow, and though half of Larkspur longs to snap and deride this child for following her in the first place, something about her keeps her from driving her away. Perhaps it's because she sees a reflection of herself - for a moment - that she almost recognizes. “Misery loves company.” Larkspur considers it fair warning. “I know you’re of the Basin, but I cannot place your face. Do you have a name?” |
