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08-25-2014, 11:01 AM
Illynx
Kyst takes in the appraising look of the crafter while her little claws work away at the natural rope material that Illynx tosses down to her with a reservation that she had never felt when in the presence of another one of the large, four legged creatures that are known as unicorns. It feels almost like she’s in danger – but as swiftly as it rises it fades, the ripples from above signifying that her Lady is returning with more vines to strap the log into security and swallowing up the griffons need for self preservation at around the same time Grimmrot realizes what the little animal is doing.Chirruping when Illynx’s face reappears over the ravine’s edge to watch the stranded mare rise on shaking legs on top of the vine supported log. Her fear laced words reach the golden mare above and another row of laughter streams out of her mouth, the young griffon mewling with good humor as well; grabbing the last few vines she has at her hooves, she tosses them down – two to Kyst, one to Grimmrot. "Kyst, around her chest and haunches, if you would darling," she commands, her feminine voice curt and gentle as she works the three ends at the top of the ravine into a loop and snuggly secures them with two knots. Her horn tip slips beneath the slip of the tri-vine hoop and her crown lifts to allow them to slide down around her shoulders. Glancing down the ravine to find that her griffon has done as she asked, she states her intensions and the plan to get the foolish woman out, golden eyes glittering in her mirth at having found someone so completely stuck. "Alright, dear. Grab that vine in your mouth and hold tight. I’m going to pull while you climb." She turns to leave, a frown dampening her Cheshire smile as she quickly looks back down the gash in the earth, thinking of another note that is likely imperative to add. "Do try to be tactful with where you put your hooves? I don’t want to wind up down there with you." And with that, she steps forward, the tension building along the vines until she’s sure they’re tight enough to both assist and support the weight of the trapped mare as she makes her escape; her golden legs are braced wide and each step forward is slow and assured, a call tossed back to let the stranger know it is safe now to start the rise upward. if I only could make a deal with God.
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