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Fig
Fond visions clouded the darkness as she descended into sleep, and sunlight, a tender blanket where it fell in dapples across mats of fur and roots the constant balance between this life and that. It was the world of the Lignea, hoofed creatures with a magical connection to nature; to the living, breathing plant life which lived beside them. Swine, deer and horse alike - they each bore the mark of equilibrium; for the Arborun, Fig’s kind, this was old timber and lush canopies of green. There were others though, cave dwellers cloaked in fine moss, frolicking fawns with blossoms blooming on the prongs of glorious antler racks, and even sea-dwellers with gills and coral limbs as vivid as all of the rolling seasons together. Prim’sylva was a place that knew no hardship, days blended together to form boundless years and though the ancient forests did fall in turn, brilliant saplings were born in their place. >As she slept, expression light and blissful, there arrived nearby her a feathered avian of the night and he struck a chorus which split the chilled tranquil morning and sent settling wings dancing for the sky in fright. Thick lashes fell apart and glossy green eyes whirled to find the small speckled predator and smiling sympathetically the tree-girl crooned, “you will find yourself no breakfast if that is your technique!” Perhaps that was why his size seemed so meagre – it surprised her enormously that his voice called so brightly in contrast. Often in the times before Helovia, Fig spoke at length to wildlife, though never was the conversation coherent like with the trees. Before there was any chance to swivel around her cumbersome frame to address the bird more politely though, another voice burst from the tree line and behind it followed the form of a black faced Pegasus. Fig shuffled quickly then, seizing the opportunity for company and beamed thoughtfully as she soothed, “Oh no, you need not apologise, I was only resting.” She felt truly that there was no reason for the other’s concern, the Lignea were sociable folk, even-tempered and well meaning. “Come out, come out,” her slow, marvellously sing-song voice insisted, dizzying as she watched for a moment the owl swinging around and around in the air above. (@[Alysanne], not at all!) |
the Rift
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[OPEN] As winter weakens
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| Messages In This Thread |
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As winter weakens - by Fig - 11-28-2014, 08:55 PM
RE: As winter weakens - by Alysanne - 11-28-2014, 11:30 PM
RE: As winter weakens - by Fig - 12-01-2014, 09:01 PM
RE: As winter weakens - by Nasreen - 12-01-2014, 11:04 PM
RE: As winter weakens - by Nasreen - 12-10-2014, 04:10 PM
RE: As winter weakens - by Alysanne - 12-03-2014, 11:27 PM
RE: As winter weakens - by Fig - 12-08-2014, 02:56 PM
RE: As winter weakens - by Alysanne - 12-28-2014, 05:46 PM
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